the first time you had sex. Practice makes perfect type of thing.”
I laugh. Fucking Becks. He’s the only person I know who could compare parenting to sex, and I’d completely understand the parallel. He gets me.
“And sex? Now that’s something I’ve practiced a lot.”
“By the look of Rylee’s belly, I think you finally mastered that skill. So, see? No need to worry. You’ve got this.”
“Damn.” The word falls from my mouth as images of earlier today flood my mind. I was supposed to be moving the couch in the great room to make space for the rental tables and chairs being delivered for the shower. Rather, I found myself looking down at Ry’s cheeks hollowing out as she sucked me off. The look in her eyes and smirk on her lips as she ran my slick cock up through the V of her cleavage until it met the sweetness of her wet mouth. My balls tighten remembering how her lips looked stretched around me when she teased my tip before sliding it back down again.
“That good, huh?” Becks asks, dragging me from the images of my hot wife.
“Fucking perfection.” It’s futile to fight the smug grin on my lips.
“So, is it true then?” I glance over to Becks, my beer now stopped halfway to my lips as I wait for him to explain. “That pregnant women are really that horny?”
My eyes flicker back toward the house at our backs. Laughter from the estrogen invasion floats down to us and I nod my head. “Brother, let’s just say that voodoo doesn’t hold a fucking candle to pregnant pussy.”
“No shit?”
“Nympho.” I draw the word out.
The look on his face right now—the raised eyebrows, slow nod of his head, slack jaw—is classic. “Damn. Just damn.”
“You have no idea,” I say with a laugh. “Shit. All the guys were warning me about hormones and mood swings, and I’m sitting over here with a cat-ate-the-canary grin on my face because pussy is my friend. Dude, the only pregnancy craving she’s having is for my cock, and I’m more than willing to help her out.”
“You lucky bastard.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Aren’t you afraid you’re going to . . .” His voice trails off but I can hear the amusement in his tone. “Never mind . . .”
“Finish what you were going to say, Daniels.”
“Well, I was going to say, aren’t you afraid all that sex is going to hurt the baby—poke it in the head or something? But then I forgot you’re only about three inches long so there’s no need to worry about that.” He stifles the chuckle.
“Fucker.” It’s my go-to comment with him and even with the dig, I can’t help but laugh because I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. Besides, I could use the distraction since I keep questioning whether I should have made the call to my private investigator, Kelly, this week.
Ball’s already rolling. Too late to stop it now.
I know nothing good can come from it. No happy endings to be had in this situation. In fact, I’m sure it’ll fuck me up before it makes me better. But maybe, just maybe, I can lay this one last thing to rest. Close this final circle before the baby comes and move on.
Full circles and shit.
At least once this one’s linked together; the goddamn ghosts can just chase each other over and over like a hamster on a wheel while I’m putting the pedal to the metal one hundred miles per hour in the opposite direction.
“Dude,” Becks says, pulling me from my thoughts, “you need to take advantage of the sex while you can because after the baby comes, you won’t be getting any for a while.”
“So I’ve heard,” I groan. How I’m going to go from my wife being a nympho to a nun is not lost on me. “Changes, man. They just keep happening. One day I’m single, the next I’m getting married, and now I’m about to have a baby. How the fuck did that happen?” Despite my words, the smile is wide on my face.
“Not sure how you found a woman who’s willing to put up with your crap but she deserves a damn