Big Girls Do It on Christmas (2 page)

BOOK: Big Girls Do It on Christmas
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I shook my head at him as I took his shaft in my hand and stroked him, gently tugging him toward me. I lay on my back and spread my legs wide, inviting him to me.
 

"You're gonna be freaked about every little thing for the next nine months, aren't you?"

He slid up between my thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them wider as he kissed the inside of my thigh. "Yep. Sure am. I'm probably going to drive you batshit crazy with my worrying by the time this baby is here."

He traced his tongue along my cleft, inciting a rush of heat and damp desire. I let him taste me, once, twice, his tongue circling my clit, and then I pulled him up to me and kissed him, my essence on his lips.

"I need you inside me," I said. "Right now."

He tilted his hips and pushed inside me. I gasped as he filled me, thick steel and hot silk. I clawed my fingers into his shoulders and swiveled my hips to get him deeper.

"You'll tell me if I—" Jeff started.

"Shut up and make love to me, Jeff," I said, writhing into him. "I'm not going to break."

He ignored my plea, sliding into me and back out with a tender delicacy that took my breath away. I was desperate for him, suddenly, but he was determined to be gentle. He was always slow with me, taking his time reaching climax. This, though, this was entirely new. He held all of his weight off me, bracing himself on his forearms next to my head, his knees at my thighs, his hips drifting against me, a breath of skin against skin like a soft summer breeze.

There was no huffing of breath in my ear, no grinding hips or pulling me fiercely against him, only his cock slipping in and caressing out so sinuously I barely felt the change from in to out. He moved inside me so smoothly it felt like one constant eruption, perpetual motion. Only his hips moved, all the rest of him was perfectly still, as if any slightest jarring would damage me.

I clutched his shoulders and let him stroke into me, let his overwhelming tenderness flow through me. The first pulse of climax was a gentle rolling press of heat low in my belly. Moments passed in molasses-slow motion, each brush of his shaft into my tight, wet channel feeding the fires in my stomach, spreading the heat down into my thighs as tremors, into my chest as quick gasps.
 

I held still for as long as I could, containing my impatience, kept my feet planted, my palms flat on his shoulder blades, my mouth pressed against his arm. He glided and glided, silky smooth, serpentine, settling-silt slow.
 

At last I could take it no more and shoved at his shoulder to roll him onto his back, sat on my knees astride his belly, back straight, my heavy breasts now cupped by his hands. I reached between us to grasp his cock, smiling lustfully at the hard heat of him, slicked with my juices and his own, throbbing and thick. I lifted up with my thigh muscles, one hand holding my hair out of my face, guided his tip into my folds and sank down. He filled me, then and I began to move, using only the strength of my thighs, rising and sinking, withdrawing and impaling, locking eyes with him, making a point.
 

When burgeoning orgasm stole the power from my legs and forced me to collapse onto his chest, I dug my hands beneath his head and pulled him into a fierce, demanding kiss, grinding my pussy onto him, hard and faster as climax pulled desperation out of me and stretched it into something new, like sexual starvation fulfilled and renewed in a moment-by-moment cycle.
 

I swallowed his moans of pleasure with my mouth, swallowed with my quivering folds his plunging shaft, and when he came, I swallowed his seed with my inner walls. He groaned into my mouth, and I matched his vocal release, matched his physical orgasm with my own, shattering apart above him, sobbing spasming breaths into his chest when I couldn't hold myself up anymore, clinging to his neck and fluttering my hips against his with frantic speed.

When we had both gone still and I was nestled into his shoulder, I let my insecurities out. "You'll still think I'm sexy when I'm pregnant, right?"

Jeff just laughed. "Anna, you know I will. You are sexy in every moment, all the time. You're sexy when you wake up, no makeup, hair messy, and morning breath. You're sexy when you sleep, and you're sexy when you laugh. You're sexy when you sing, and when you dance. You were beyond sexy tonight in that incredible dress. And when you've got that glow of motherhood, round belly sticking out to here—" he molded his hand over my belly in an imaginary pregnancy bump, "you'll be even sexier."

I kissed his neck and then his jaw, stroking his chest with my fingertips. "You're sweet."

"I'm right."

I laughed. "Okay, baby." We drowsed in the afterglow for a while. "So...names? Just for fun?"

He chuckled, a sleepy rumble. "Barney."

I frowned at him. "You're kidding, right?"

"Yeah, Anna, I'm kidding. You think I'd stick our kid with a name like Barney?" He turned on his side and rested his hand on my hip. "Well, we're not doing a 'Junior,' that's my only rule. No Jeff Junior."

"No?"

"Huh-uh. I think it's tacky, personally. I've got no problem with people who do that. I just don't want to."

"Okay, well, if it's a boy, how about...Orlando?"

"Orlando? Like Orlando Bloom?"

"Yes. No. Shut up."

He laughed. "Actually I don't mind it. Xander?"

"
Hell
no. I'm not naming my son after that gumpy putz from
Buffy
."

"God, fine," he said, grinning. "I was teasing."

"Seriously, now." I pinched his skin next to his nipple. "No more jokes."

"We have nine months, baby."

I sighed. "Well, I want to think of names now."

He glanced at the ceiling, thinking. "Caleb." He held up his hand. "Before you say anything, it's not random. Caleb was a buddy of mine from Basic. He died in that ambush I told you about. He was...one of my best buddies."

I knew that one meant a lot to him. "Caleb Cartwright," I said, trying it out loud. "I like it, actually. What about a girl?"

He thought for a moment. "Niall?"

"That's an interesting one," I said. "Niall. Niall Cartwright. How'd you come up with that one?"

"I had a great-aunt named Niall, and I've just always liked it." He yawned and pulled me against him. "I like those names. Caleb and Niall."

I felt his breathing slow and even out. "Are you really happy we're having a baby?"

He didn't answer right away, and when he did, his words were slow and heavy with sleep. "I couldn't be any more excited...unless we had twins. I've always thought that would be fun."

I tried to imagine not one, but two little babies growing inside me, two lives, two personalities. My brain spun at the notion, and I felt myself drifting away into sleep, held tight by Jeff, content that, at the very least, Jeff was ready for this. I wasn't entirely sure I was
ready,
but I was happy.
 

I was having Jeff's baby. Merry Christmas to us.

THE END

Look for
Big Girls Do It Pregnant
 

coming 2013

Jasinda Wilder

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