I sit up, not caring that dizziness or the fact I feel like throwing up makes it hard to force my words out of my mouth. I do though. Angrily. “Where’s Diesel?”
Aidan tries to gently press me back down. I don’t budge. “He’s not with her, is he?” His brows scrunch. “If you mean Alexis, no, baby. He’s not with her. He’s with Alina. She took him to check him out. And before you start to freak, he’s fine. Passed out in her arms, right outside in the waiting room.” I rub my hands up and down my face, laying my head back down, grateful and relieved he’s with Alina
“Did something happen? Why did she have to check him out?” Suddenly, I feel nauseous. I need to calm down. If he says he’s fine, then I believe him.
“Precaution, I guess. He’s a baby.” Here comes that smile again from him.
“All right, damn you. Why are you smiling? This has been a horrible day. If I’m fine, then I want out of here. I need to see my dad. So tell me, asshole.” I’m not up for this, whatever has happened he finds quite comical. He freaking starts to laugh. Like one of those throw your head back, deep, chuckling laughs.
“Sweet-tart. You’re pregnant.”
What in the hell did he just say?
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
My cock slides in and out of Deidre’s tight pussy. My hands are palming her breasts. Her tight ass is rocking back, taking me balls deep with every thrust I make. To say she’s starved to have me inside of her every chance she can get would be like me not feeding her when she says she’s hungry.
And I love it.
“Oh, god. You feel so good,” she moans. Not near as good as she does. I flick her nipples, which drives her out of her mind. The farther along she gets in her pregnancy, the more sensitive they become. I can’t keep my hands off of her.
“Harder,” she request. One thing about her, she is one horny woman while she’s pregnant, and I have no problem driving my cock into her harder. My girl loves it rough. Hell, she loves it period.
“How hard do you want it, baby?” I let go of her breasts, spread my hands around her growing stomach, and slam into her. She cries out, and god, does she undo me.
Especially now. She’s seven months along. Her bump is the sexiest thing I have ever seen. I’ve adjusted my cock more times throughout the day whenever I think about her carrying my child. Christ, there is no way I can control the blood flow to my cock when it comes to her and her beauty.
I grip her long hair with one of my hands, yanking her head back. She lets out a small yelp. Like I said, she loves it rough. She loves it gentle, too. It all depends on what mood my sweet-tart is in.
One day she’s wacked out, forgetting shit, leaving the damn front door open. Forgetting Diesel’s diaper bag. Then she cries. That’s Make-Love-Night Deidre. Then the next day, she’s all up in my face because she thinks she’s gaining too much weight, and it’s my fault once again. That’s Fuck-Me-Hard-Night Deidre.
At first, I was like, “What in the ever-loving hell is wrong with you?” I had no idea pregnancy can send a woman’s hormones up in the air, and they reach up every damn day and pluck out what type of day it’s going to be. Crying or happy. Crazy or crazier. I just keep my damn mouth shut. No way am I sticking my own foot so far down my throat it becomes permanently stuck there.
Again, I love it.
She can’t blame me this time for getting her pregnant. Well, she can. She doesn’t, though. She’s the one that missed a day of taking her pill, not me. And she wasn’t complaining the night we conceived either. In fact, she never complained about being pregnant again so soon. She just passed out once again in the Emergency Room after I told her we were expecting.
I drive into her once more. Fucking hell. She squeezes, and my dick explodes inside of her. God, I love her. Every damn part.
“I love you, honey. Thank you for being you. For putting up with me and for having such a huge dick and knowing how to use it,” she pants. I pull out of her slowly, rise up off the bed, and walk into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Chuckling all the way at some of the things she says.
I know damn well she’s going to be half asleep when I peek out there. Sure as shit, she is. I stare at all the beauty that is my woman. She’s feisty, yet perfect.
She’s buried under the covers, her left hand draped around her belly. The ring I put on her finger last weekend on our date glistening. I didn’t get down on one knee, that shit isn’t me, nor is it her. However, I did try and make it as special as I could for her. I slipped it inside the small diaper bag she carries with us when we go out. The look on her face when she saw that aqua-colored box inside is a look saved for me. That’s mine. One I will never forget. I shrugged. She cried. Then I proceeded to tell her I figured my sons had my last name that their baby momma should, too. That got her laughing, right along with Diesel who had no idea what he was laughing at. It’s not an ordinary wedding ring. There is nothing about the crazy longing we have for each other that’s ordinary. We love each other, that’s all that matters. It’s what they call an Emerald cut diamond. What makes it stand out from all the others is that the stone sits sideways instead of the traditional way. Or so the sales lady told me. All I knew is that when I spotted it in the display case, I had to have it.