She pressed against him, bringing him deeper inside and he groaned, grasping her hips.
He let her set the rhythm. She gripped the back of the chair and kept her mouth fused to his as she rode him. He kept one hand on her ass, griping her flesh, while the other tangled in her hair to angle her mouth so he could delve deeper.
Within minutes, that piercing pressure built to a crest that couldn't be contained. It crashed over her, dragging him with it. She slumped against him, her head resting on his shoulder, while she continued to shudder around him.
He stood, scooping her up in his arms so he could carry her to the bed. He set her down and stripped away the rest of his clothes, then leaned over to tug off her skirt and panties.
"This time, we take our time," he said, claiming her lips once again.
He made gentle, exquisite love to her until she begged him for mercy.
And then he did it again.
Chapter Seventeen
Brooks walked into the room, looked around at a bunch of pregnant couples sitting there with their massive bouncy balls, yoga mats, plastic dolls, assorted baby equipment, and the most terrifying visual aids ever inflicted on a man, and prepared to bolt.
"Oh, what fresh hell is this?" he asked.
Leah laughed and pushed him into the room. "Come on, class is starting in a minute."
He ventured a little farther but stopped at the decapitated torso of a mannequin that had been cut away to reveal all the inside stuff. "Is that what really happens when you're pregnant?"
The mannequin had a baby in her belly, but everything else that was in there was squished up into the rib cage and behind the baby.
"Yes," Leah said. "Where did you think everything went?"
"I don't know. I never really thought about it. Not sure I'll be thinking about anything but that for a while now."
She grinned and towed him along until they passed a wall with a series of posters showing the various stages of labor and delivery, each one growing more horrifying than the last.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side. "Let's get out of here. It's a total trap," he whisper-shouted at her. "If you stay, they'll make you do that." He pointed at the image of a baby halfway out of the birth canal.
She laughed and pushed him away. "I'm going to have to do that regardless. It would be nice to learn some techniques to deal with it. Now hush. Come on, let's go get a spot. The class is going to start soon."
He reluctantly followed her over to one of those yoga mats and had a seat. Leah sank to the ground much more slowly, her hand on her back. He helped her down and then pulled her back so she could lean against him. They hadn't really discussed the logistics of who would be where in the delivery room. In fact, now that Marcus had shown up-though he had yet to appear for the class despite promising to be there-Brooks wasn't completely sure whether or not he would be in the room. But, he wouldn't let Leah be in there alone and she needed a coach for the classes. Plus, he was technically her husband, so there he was.
The teacher finally showed, entering the class engrossed in a conversation with Marcus who actually had a pad and pen and was taking handwritten notes. Leah tensed slightly, but when he glanced down, she was smiling at Marcus. Perfect.
Marcus said something to the instructor and hurried over to them. "Sorry about that. I had a few questions I wanted cleared up so I came early and had a nice chat with the instructor. Don't worry at all," he said to Leah. "We'll be the most prepared parents in the delivery room."
He sat beside her. "Shouldn't I be the one supporting her? I'm the dad, after all. I assume I'll be the coach."
He'd been thinking the same thing only moments before, begrudgingly. But with the d-bag sitting there demanding he hand her over, Brooks's stubborn streak kicked in. "She's already situated. And since I'm the husband, it would probably make more sense for me to be the coach."
"Oh," Leah said, her gaze darting with growing panic between Marcus and Brooks.
The instructor, who'd apparently been briefed by Marcus, came over. "One of you can support her and the other can coach her through the breathing exercises. And try to remember that you are here for her. She's lucky to have the support … if you're going to be supportive. Leave anything else at the door, gentlemen. This is about mommy and baby."
Brooks nodded, the unfamiliar sensation of shame crawling through him. He wrapped his arms around Leah and kissed her cheek. "Sorry. Mommy's in charge."
Leah shuddered but laughed. "Oh my God, don't ever call me mommy again."
He chuckled. "Got it."
Marcus scooted a little closer and took her hand, though he at least glanced at Brooks before he did it.
"I guess I'll handle the breathing then, if you've got the back support covered."
Brooks nodded. "Okay, though we should probably take turns with the breathing part. In case something happens and you can't show."
"I'll be there for the birth of my own kid."
"Didn't say you wouldn't be."
"Cool it, boys, or none of us will know what we're doing," Leah said.
Brooks bit his tongue and tried to pay attention, and was almost sorry he did. The instructor launched into a whole welcoming spiel about the wonders of childbirth. Brooks stared at her, his mind spinning. Who knew that having a baby was so complicated? You watch the movies and it seems pretty straightforward. Water breaks, woman screams, lots of panting, out comes baby. But all that panting was some super special breathing technique that he now had to memorize so he could coach his wife through it-because he wasn't leaving it up to Marcus-as she would be too busy being ripped apart at the seams to remember how to breathe. Wow. Talk about pressure. What if he forgot to breathe, too? They were so screwed.
Leah leaned back against his chest and looked up at him. He glanced down to see her concerned face. "You doing okay up there?"
"Yeah, sure, just fine." She didn't need to know that he was currently running through the thousands of ways he could screw this up and praying they all made it out in one piece.
Marcus's phone buzzed and he glanced down at it. "Shit, I've got to take this. I'll be right back. Cover for me for a minute, will you?" he said to Brooks. "I won't be gone long, I promise," he said to Leah.
"Bailing again," Brooks muttered.
"What?" Leah asked.
"Nothing."
She grinned at him. "Are you sure you don't want to go with him? I think they're going to be showing a video soon."
All the blood must have rushed from his face, because she sat up and turned to face him. "Really, are you doing okay?"
"Oh yeah, I'm fine. I didn't know there was going to be a video."
"Well, if you don't think you can handle it … "
"I can handle it if you can."
She shrugged. "Ten bucks you're out cold on the floor before the movie's half over."
"You're on. Just make sure you don't pass out." He eyed her belly. "I'm not sure I can carry you out of here."
She elbowed him in the gut and he laughed and wrapped his arms around her. Only partly to keep her from hitting lower.
Okay, he'd deserved that.
Five minutes later he was pretty sure that bet was the only thing that was keeping him conscious. He kept his arms wrapped around Leah's shoulders as they watched the scariest movie he'd ever seen in his life. Every time the woman in the video screamed, Leah would flinch back against him and he'd hold her tighter. But there was a lot of screaming. Well, maybe it was more grunting and weird animal-like moans and growls. What. The. Hell.
At one point, she finally whispered up to him, "You're squishing me."
"Sorry." He tried to loosen his hold, but damn. That was some seriously twisted Tarantino shit going on up on that screen. Really, with all the technology available there had to be an easier way to get a baby out of a woman's body.
When Leah had first told him about Lamaze and what it was he felt silly even thinking about doing anything like that and had no intention of doing it himself. But after that film was over, he was pretty sure he needed it even more than she did. So when the teacher said, "Okay, pant like this … heh-heh-heh … " Brooks immediately sat down on the yoga mat, placed his hands on his belly, and started some deep breathing exercises.
He stopped when he noticed everyone staring at him. "What? Am I doing it wrong?"
"Your technique is great," the teacher said. "Except your wife is the one who's supposed to be doing the breathing. You're just supposed to be there making sure she's doing the right one and counting for her."
"Right. Sorry. Though, I really think there should be a coach version of this."
Several of the other dads in the room nodded in agreement.