In My Head (19 page)

His mouth comes back to my clit, and he pulls it in between his teeth. The instant pain slowly ebbs as he sooths it with his tongue. I bite my tongue, trying to hold in a moan. He inserts his fingers into my pussy again.

Pushing my hips into the bed, I focus on the sensations of him hitting my G-spot. Instead of trying to get closer to his mouth. He moans against me, his tongue lapping up my juices that I can feel leaking out of me.

My arousal is always evident for him.

I hear the unmistakable sound of a bottle top opening. The lube. I feel him move to where he is leaning down on his knees on the bed, bringing my hips to rest against his bent legs. Opening me up to him in every way.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like having two cocks inside of you at once? Filling you, fucking you, making you come harder than you’ve ever come before?”

He brings the bottle of lube against my tight back entrance. The liquid slides down my cheeks, but he quickly snaps the top and drops the bottle to catch the lube. His fingertip slips into me. The fingers in my pussy scissor open, pulling my focus back to them. Instead of on the finger trying to gain entrance.

Pulling back out a tiny bit, he pushes against me again. “Don’t move, remember. Or all of this will stop.”

His finger finally pops past that ring of muscle and slides all the way in. I moan, and he chuckles. I have a white knuckle grip on the bars, desperately trying to hold myself still. “If you move either of your fingers right now, I’m going to come.” My voice is riddled with desire.

“Well, we can’t have that can we? I need my dick inside you before you come.” The loss of his fingers has me letting go of my restraint, and has me writhing against the mattress. “Hold on, love. As soon as I get out of my clothes, I’ll take care of you.”

I hear his clothes hit the floor, and seconds later he’s crawling back onto the bed with me. “Let go of the bars for me.” He grabs my shirt and bra and takes them off of my head throwing them onto the floor. Then says, “Flip over for me.”

My hands ache from gripping the bars. I follow his instructions and flip myself over, getting up on all fours for him. I feel his warmth against my back as he leans over me and grabs a couple pillows. He places the pillows below my hips so I can rest against them. Lowering myself down, I grab another pillow and place it under my head.

Reaching above me, I grab the sheet and fist my hands in it. To help me hold still while he fucks me, so I don’t end up smashing my face against the headboard.

Ben leans down and places a kiss in the center of my back. “God, your back dimples are sexy as fuck. Seeing your ass in the air, just for me, has me harder than steel.”

I feel him press against my entrance, and he slides himself in. He has no resistance with how worked up he has me. He stops when he has himself fully seated in me. His deep groan sends shivers down my spine.

Anchoring himself to my hips, he pulls put. Only to slam back home. He repeats this delicious torture. Pulling out slowly then slamming back home. Worshipping me with his body, showing me how much he loves me. Fucking his love into me.

Until we both come on a long series of moans and groans. And in this moment, everything is right. Everything is whole. Nothing can touch us.

Why can’t this be enough?

WE’RE BACK IN THE
real world. Our weekend away was so much fun, it’ll be a trip I won’t forget for a long time. But today fucking sucks. As soon as we got home from getting the kids, I felt sick. It’s a nauseous feeling that is lingering. I’ve tried everything I know to ease my sickness.

It’s Wednesday and Ben has called the doctor and made me an appointment. I’ve never felt like this before, so begrudgingly I’m en route to the doctor after leaving the kids with my parents. I hate going to doctors, with a fearsome loathing. The only reason I agreed to go is if I have to spend one more day with this nausea and cold like symptoms I might stab myself.

While I’m sitting in the waiting room, multiple people who are sneezing and hacking come in. It makes me want to move myself to the corner of this tiny room and quarantine myself away from them. This is another reason why I hate coming to the doctors, I’m not a germaphobe, but being around sick people makes me feel gross.

Like I need to go home and shower in scalding hot water to disinfect myself.

The door opens, and every pair of eyes in this room flick to the nurse standing there. It’s like we’re all waiting with bated breath to find out who is next to get their salvation away from the sickness.

“Lyla, the doctor is ready for you. If you’ll follow me.” I practically jump out of the chair and sprint to the doorway. She turns when I reach her and leaves me to close the door behind me. I try to close it as quietly as I can, it always seems as if no matter how quiet you are the doors are always slammed in a place like this.

I quickly follow the nurse down the hall, and enter the room she points to. She follows me and shuts the door behind her. Pulling the swivel seat up to the counter, she sits down and opens up my chart. I place my purse in the chair next to the one I’m going to sit down in.

Once my ass is finally in a chair, she starts her interrogation.

“So, Lyla. What brings you in today?” She clicks her pen, and poises her hand to write down my response. Never once looking away from her chart.

“I haven’t felt good since coming home from vacation Sunday. I’ve had an upset stomach, and some cold like symptoms. I thought it may have been food I tried down there, but it’s hung on too long to be that.”

She scribbles down every word, and asks, “What symptoms have you had?

“I’ve had a headache, a weird tickle in the back of my throat, a slight sore throat, runny nose, and an upset stomach.”

Nodding her head up and down a couple times she continues scribbling. “All right, I’m going to let the doctor know you’re ready and I’ll send him in.” She instructs me to hop up on the table.

I do as I was told, and then I sit there like a child and swing my legs back and forth. At the knock on the door, it opens and in walks my doctor.

“Hey, Lyla. How have you been?” The great thing about moving back home is I was able to get back in with my childhood doctor.

“I’ve been well, adjusting to having two kids in the house.” I chuckle, and so does she.

“All right, let’s find out what’s going on huh?” She pulls her stethoscope out and listens to everything, pulls out the lights to see in my nose and ears, and checks all my glands. Then goes on to say she’s going to have the nurses run a couple tests and have me pee in a cup while she has me here and steps out.

The nurse comes back in wielding her vampire supplies. It’s a miracle she only has to poke me twice. But she gets her blood and then has me run down to the bathroom and give the urine sample. Bringing me back to the room, she tells me the doctor will be back shortly and that I can go ahead and sit in the regular chair.

Plopping down in the chair I sit there and bounce my leg, anxious to get this over with. After five minutes of sitting there bouncing my legs up and down, I end up pulling my phone out of my purse to read. Scrolling to the latest Alyne Roberts book,
Atlas.
I’m pretty sure this is my favorite book I’ve ever read.

When the doctor knocks, I shove my phone back in my purse. Acting like I was just patiently waiting, rather than getting lost in a romance novel.

“Okay, so we know what’s going on with you.” I sit up straight. Giving her my best “let me have it” look. “So, it looks like you do have a cold. But in the labs I had them run, we did find something else. You’re pregnant.”

She had the brightest smile on her face. She’s assuming that since I’m married and already have two kids that this is going to be great, joyous news. She couldn’t be further from the truth.

I sputter out a half-hearted thanks at her congratulations, and nod through her instructions that I need to follow up with my obstetrician as soon as possible so we can determine how far along I am since I don’t remember my last period. I stand up in a daze when she hands me two prescription papers and tells me to get them filled ASAP.

Feeling like I’m in a fog, I walk out to my car and just sit in it.

I’m wracking my brain to see if I remember using a condom when Bronson and I have had sex. But I can’t come up with one memory of a foil packet anywhere. I burst into soul wrenching sobs while I sit there. I finally turn the car on and turn the music up, to drown out my crying. I don’t want a do gooder citizen to walk by and try to ask what’s wrong.

How am I going to explain to Ben that I’m pregnant, and the baby might not be his? I’ve done a great job at hiding what has gone on with Bronson, but now everything I’ve carefully hidden is threatening to spill out.

Maybe I can ride this out. Both of my kids resemble my husband. Maybe I’ll luck out and this baby will look like me. And not have piercing blue eyes. I can let this go until I have the baby. I’ll cross that bridge when the time comes. I won’t worry about it until I see what this baby is going to look like.

Putting the car in drive, I take off to get my kids. Telling myself over and over that everything will be okay.

TELLING YOURSELF THAT
things will be okay is just utter bullshit. I didn’t feel any better by the time I got home. I picked the kids up, and barely said five words to my parents. I just grabbed the kids and their shit and told them I would see them later.

I started dinner when I got home, I was ravenously hungry after not having eaten all day. The news of me being pregnant made me lose my appetite for most of the day. But I have somewhat come to terms with what I’ve done. I’ve made my bed, but I’m only going to partially lay in it.

Ben walks in the door just as I’m taking the food out of the oven. When he texted me today to ask me what the doctor said, I just texted back and told him we could discuss it when he got home from work. So that explains why he’s walking in the door at a decent time, instead of later like usual.

“Hey, baby. Something smells great. What did you make?” He comes up behind me and places a kiss on the back of my neck. Making me shiver.

“Stuffed shells.”

“Oh, your favorite. Today must have been a rough day. You only make this when you’re down.” He turns me so he can look into my eyes. “Lyla, tell me what the doctor said.”

I try to shrug out of his embrace, but he holds on tighter. “Don’t you want to eat first and then talk when we put the kids down for bed?”

“No,” he says firmly. “You’re scaring me, I feel like you’re going to tell me you’re dying or something. Please tell me you aren’t dying!” In his eyes all I see is sheer panic.

I turn completely and he wraps his arms around my shoulders. I place my hands on both of his cheeks. “Ben, I’m not dying. But we do have a lot to talk about.”

Complete and utter relief fills his face. “Okay, just tell me now. I still want to know what’s going on.”

Sighing, I drop my hands. “Well, I do have a cold. But there is more.” I look him in the eyes, and steel myself to say this. We both didn’t really want any more kids, so I don’t know how he’s going to take this. “I’m pregnant.”

“That’s what this is about?” He laughs.

I scrunch my face up. “Excuse me? We both agreed we didn’t want any more kids. So I’m sorry if I thought you might be a little upset about this.”

He continues to laugh, so I attempt to get out of his embrace again. But he holds on tighter. “Baby, no I didn’t really think we needed another baby. Especially right now, but God never gives you anything you can’t handle. So, am I upset? Hell no.”

I lean into his chest, and ask, “You’re really not upset?”

“Baby, no. This is exciting, I love kids. I know having three kids is going to be a huge adjustment. But we got this. We fucking got this!” He picks me up in a big hug and spins me around the kitchen.

Kay comes into the kitchen and sees her daddy spinning me, and screams that it’s her turn. Ben places me on my feet and gives me a lingering kiss on the lips and then turns to spin his daughter in the air.