Attainment (The Temptation Series) (3 page)

“Does that feel good?” I question between slow thrusts.

“Yes.”

“Do you want it harder?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still thirsty?”

She laughs. “No.”

I snigger then proceed to slide in and out of her at a
faster pace. In and out, in and out, the warm walls of her pussy massaging my
shaft as I glide back and forth.

“You feel so fucking good,” I rasp before reaching forward
and cupping her bouncing tits.

Noticing her arms weaken as she holds herself up against the
wall, I release one breast and wrap my arm around her waist, supporting her.

“I’ve got you. Just relax.”

Her body slackens just a little, and her head drops back
onto my shoulder. I let go of her breast, brace my hand against the wall, and
seize her mouth with my own.

My efforts to refrain from ejaculating become impossible as the
sensation is just too great, and I explode into her, filling her as I pulse
with pleasure. Our climax melts into one as I continue to roll against her,
slowing down and steadying not only our stance but our breathing as well.

I slide out of her and turn her back around to face me,
catching the elated joy radiating from her in the form of a satisfied smile.
She wraps her arms around my neck and rests her forehead against mine.

“Why are you so happy?” I question, already pretty sure of
the answer.

With a sexy as hell raise of her eyebrow, she takes a hold
of my tie and tugs me toward the lounge. “One room down, at least five to go.”

CHAPTER THREE

One hour was not enough time to complete Alexis’ plans for
the remaining five rooms. It was, however, enough time for both the recording
studio and the master bedroom. Never would I ever say no to her, but damn was I
glad we only had an hour. Any longer and my dick would’ve fallen off.

In the beginning of the pregnancy, Alexis’ sexual appetite
was non-existent, but that was completely understandable considering what
happened during that time—her being slightly traumatised for a few weeks
following Gareth’s death. The thing about Alexis, though, is she has an
incredible ability to put on a brave face and deal with life’s hurdles, as she
puts it.

During those initial weeks, we comforted each other, both of
us trying to move past the explosion—and I say the term ‘move past’ very
lightly, ‘moving past’ not being as easily achievable for some. It wasn’t until
approximately a month afterward—and in amongst our comforting—that our sexual
urges returned, our intimate moments helping heal the unspoken words of the
tragic event. Then, for the weeks that followed, Alexis’ morning sickness
reared its ugly head, halting our restored libidos.
Why it is called morning
sickness bloody stumps me. It’s never just the mornings.

Shortly after her constant need to vomit disappeared, her
sexual desires increased ten-fold. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly not
complaining—her physical presence still drives me wild. It’s just...my dick
fails to let my brain know that at times it is fucking whacked and in need of a
rest.

***

“I can’t believe you had Twister carpet put in,” Alexis
laughs while watching the passing traffic on the Tullamarine Freeway. She turns
to face me with a mischievous grin. “You know, as soon as I’ve popped out BB,
I’m challenging you to a game...naked.”

We are on our way to collect Nate and Charlotte from school
and to then surprise them with the completion of the apartment.

“Why wait till after you give birth to challenge me?” I ask,
curiously. I’m surprised with her current sex-drive that she hasn’t penned in a
game for this evening.

“Because you will have an unfair advantage.”

“How’s that?” I chuckle while noticing her eyes spark wide.

“Because I can’t easily twist and manoeuvre with a child
growing within my womb.”

Before I can answer her, she shouts at the top of her lungs.
“Hey! Quick! Pull into 7-Eleven.”

Her sudden outburst shocks the shit out of me and has me
veering into the service station. In a slight panic, I bring the car to an
abrupt halt. “What! What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” I ask, fear gripping my
insides as I reach over and place my hands on her stomach to inspect her for
signs of distress.

“I need a Slurpee. A big one! Oooo, I hope they have bubblegum
flavour,” she says with excitement while patting my slightly trembling hands
before unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of the car. Just before closing
the door, she pokes her head back in. “You want anything?”

“No. I’m all good,” I respond while letting out a breath.

As I watch her lightly waddle through the shop doors, I drop
my head to the steering wheel in exasperation.
Jesus fucking Christ! She
will be the death of me.

Talk about giving me a heart attack, and all for a frozen,
crushed ice drink, saturated in sugar syrup.
Bloody pregnancy cravings
.
When Alexis was pregnant with Bianca, she preferred potato chips dipped in ice
cream. And, as disgusting as that had been, I could stomach the notion and
produce that particular craving for her when required. However, the shit she
has been eating this time around nearly has me dry retching. I mean, who the
hell eats pickles on toast with cheese and mayonnaise? And, did I mention I
caught her dipping a carrot into her glass of chocolate milk last week?

She walks back to the car, happily sucking on her Slurpee.

I smile. She is just so incredibly cute. “Happy now?” I ask
as she sits back in the car and buckles her seat belt.

Alexis sucks her straw, slurping loudly then smiles back at
me. “Yep.”

“Good.”

She tilts her drink toward me. “You want some?”

“No. That shit is basically liquid sugar.”

 “And your problem is?” she asks while stirring the mixture around,
seemingly unperturbed by my unhealthy factual statement.

I glance over at her, the sides of my mouth rising in a smug
grin. “My problem is that it’s not good for you.”

“BB likes it. Look...” she points to her stomach, her
expression happily cocky. “...he just high-fived me.”

Wearing a pair of maternity jeans and a tight fitting grey
top, she is all baby-belly.

“Wait for it...” she says in anticipation.

I humour her and wait, staring at her tummy.

“Ha! See?” she giggles, as her tummy jerks ever so slightly,
showcasing my son’s movement. “You like Slurpees just like Mummy does, don’t
you BB?” she coos in her mummy-baby voice.

Seeing her stomach move like that fills me with a feeling of
complete awe, love, and astonishment. I could watch it all day. I remember back
to the first time I felt BB kick—
BB? Bloody hell! I can’t believe she has me
referring to my son as the letter B squared.
Annoyed at myself for allowing
such a ridiculous nickname for my unborn son, I decide I really need to do
something about it sooner rather than later.

Bringing my gaze back to her happy face, I go to complain
about the absurd name but am halted as I take in the joy radiating from her
while she rubs her tummy.

“Mummy likes the bubblegum and cola flavour, BB. But next
time we will try grape, what do you reckon?”

Her hand jerks again, and we both laugh. I decide now is not
the time to bury the nickname BB and, instead, return to my recollection of
when I first felt my son move. It was shortly after we found out that he was a
boy. We were lying in bed after just having a bath together, and Alexis was
playfully singing “Kiss You All Over” by Exile, because I had only just moments
before kissed her all over. She’d started the chorus then paused mid-word, ‘...he
kicked!’ she’d blurted out, looking at me as though being internally booted was
extremely pleasurable. ‘Quick! Quick! Give me your hand.’ She’d then grabbed my
hand and pressed it against her stomach. The wait for movement was the weirdest
anticipation I had ever felt. I knew what a baby kicking my hand was like,
because I had experienced Alexander do it to Lucy. But waiting to feel the
first movement of your own child was...well, it was surreal—exciting, but
strangely tense.

When that first bump finally nudged my hand, a sensation of
sheer fucking joy had spread through me like wildfire. My child was alive, growing,
and playfully moving around inside the woman I love. I’d felt the joy from the
smile plastered across my face, travel to the heart pounding in my chest, and right
down to my feet which had been twitching with excitement.
Best bloody
experience, ever!

Still sitting in the car at the 7-Eleven car park, and fixing
my stare toward Alexis’ stomach where my son is happily practising his martial
arts skills, I reach over and gently lay my hand across her bump. She looks up
at me and her expression changes from cheeky playfulness to one of heartfelt
love.

Placing her hand over mine, she asks our son to move again.
“Daddy wants a high-five, BB.”

We wait for what seems like minutes when, in actual fact, it
was probably only seconds. Our hands jerk in unison
,
causing my heart to
pound with excitement.
Ahhh, there it is.

“Good boy,” I praise him then gently fist-bump her tummy.

Alexis interlaces our fingers together then rests our hands
on the centre console of the car, and with her free hand, she lifts the Slurpee
to her mouth, smiles, and takes another loud gulp. I shake my head and grin,
clenching her hand a little tighter to indicate a sense of amused affection.
It’s the little things like this without spoken words that I cherish with her.
We fit each other so perfectly.

***

After picking up the kids from school, we head home to
surprise them with the completion of the apartment. As we step into the
elevator, I hit the penthouse button and stand back. Instantly, Nate questions
my choice—the kid doesn’t miss a beat; he is so switched on.

“Are we going to check the renovations?” he asks, curiously.

“No, even better,” I reply, waggling my eyebrows.

Nate wrinkles his forehead then delighted understanding
appears on his face in the form of wide eyes. “It’s finished? Are we moving
back in?” he asks, looking from Alexis then back to me.

Charlotte pauses her dancing to non-existent music and
shoots her head up. “What?”

“I don’t know, Bryce. Do you think they are ready to see
their new home?” Alexis teasingly asks.

“Hmmm, not sure,” I respond, going along with her charade.
“They may not like it.”

“Is my room pink?” Charlotte squeals, jumping up and down.
“Oh, I hope it’s pink...even pinker than last time. I love pink. Wait! I like
purple too. Is it purple?”

“You are just going to have to wait and see Charli-Bear,”
Alexis states with a smile.

“I don’t care what colour my room is, as long as it’s not
pink...or purple...or maybe even yellow,” Nate adds.

“Good, ‘cause yours is white and blue, little fella,” I say proudly.
“Carn’ the mighty Cats!”

I watch his face as his eyes search mine for the slightest
tell-tale sign that I’m bluffing. Nate is a one-eyed Bomber’s supporter like
his Mum.

“Mum,” Nate says hesitantly. “Please tell me he’s joking.”

I glance at Alexis, trying not to laugh and give myself
away. I wonder for a moment if she’ll play along and taunt Nate or if she’ll
cave and stay true to her beloved football team. The inner struggle is evident
on her face, and I can’t help but chuckle at her attempt to prevent it from
screwing up.

“Nate, my little man,” she says with gritted teeth while
giving me that sexy fucking determined glare. She straightens her stance and
smiles satisfactorily at me before turning her head to face her son. “Would I
ever let Bryce decorate your room in anything other than the Bomber’s colours?”

Nate sighs with relief. “No. You wouldn’t.” He then turns to
me, and a spark of satisfaction appears to surge through him as he fires a
shit-eating grin in my direction. “When you least expect it, Bryce. You may
find a clown sleeping in your bed.”

Alexis bursts out laughing. I, on the other hand, do not
find that little threat funny at all.

“Really?” I ask Nate.

He just nods.
Yeah, I wonder who he gets his cockiness
from.

“Bryce,” Charlotte interrupts, her sweet little angelic
voice laced with concern. I feel her hand gently clasp mine. “Clowns aren’t
real, you know. And neither are ghosts, or witches.” Her look of sincerity is
both adorable and...well...humiliating. Here is a seven year-old girl, telling
a thirty seven year-old man not to be afraid of clowns because they aren’t real,
when in fact they freakin’ are. In this moment, my testosterone levels sink
dramatically.
I’m a fucking coulrophobic pansy.

I pull her to my side and give her a hug. “Thanks, Charli.”

Alexis, who is still trying to refrain from laughing at my
awkward you-have-no-balls moment, winks at Charli when the doors to the elevator
open. We all step out, and Alexis and I hang back, my arm around her shoulder
and hers around my waist. We watch the excitement filter from the kids as they
explore their new surroundings.

“It’s just like before, but it’s not,” Nate says, displaying
an expression of slight confusion.

“I don’t know about the brown, Mum,” Charlotte says with
aversion.

“What’s wrong with the brown?”

“Brown is poo colour.”

Alexis laughs. “It’s also chocolate colour.”

Charlotte spins around slowly with her hands on her hips.
“Yeah, but it’s not pretty.”

“We don’t want the lounge area to be pretty,” I explain.

“Why not?”
Because it’s a God damn lounge, not a fairy
palace.

Alexis squeezes my hip then lets go. “If you want pretty,
Charli, go see your room.”

She squeals that high pitched, burst-my-fucking-eardrums-squeal
that she is good at, then makes her way upstairs, Nate, Alexis and I following
behind.

The new staircase spirals round in a large curve, deliberately
designed that way so it feels like you are walking up a hill rather than a
steep incline. Alexis was adamant when we discussed the new designs that she
did not want a vertical staircase. And I honestly can’t say that I blame her. I
think her fall from a year ago still plays on her mind. It probably always
will.

Nate calls out from his room. “Sick!” And I know immediately
what he has just found.

“Oh my God!” Charlotte squeals, and again I know why.

I turn to Alexis, stopping her in her tracks. “You take Charli.
My ears can’t handle her vocal range. I’ll take Nate,” I say, before hurrying
off to Nate’s room—his surprise is far more appealing to me than Charli’s
replacement 4Life memorabilia.

When I walk through his door, he is already opening the
boxes. “These are awesome!” he says, sheer delight covering his face.

I’m fully aware of how awesome they are, having wanted to
try one out for days. “These are the Walkera HM Airwolfs,” I explain to him.

 Nate rotates one of the boxes, taking in the picture.
“Sweet!”

He has no idea just how sweet these babies are.

With both Nate and I sitting on the floor of his room, we
waste no time in putting the remote control helicopters together.  Nate hangs
on every word that I say as I instruct him with the assembly of the aircraft. Appreciation
and fondness fill me when I look at him, as I see his mother’s determination
and intelligence, not to mention he has her blue eyes. From the moment I met
Nate—that very first time he came to visit his Mum’s place of work—I couldn’t
help but form a bond with him. He has so much of Alexis flowing through him and
possesses an uncanny ability to read most situations surrounding him. He really
is a smart and loving kid.