I LAY beside Mica and watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful, so calm, it belied everything we had endured in the last few weeks.
That night after Mica had shared, we packed up his stuff together, and without speaking I brought him home. The dogs were ecstatic to see him. The feeling was mutual. We crawled into bed together and we talked.
He opened up, telling me happier memories about Nadia and his childhood. We talked about my job and hockey. We didn’t talk about the baby.
One day at a time.
I knew he was afraid, but he was facing his fears with courage. One night he called his mom and talked to her for hours out on the deck. When he came back inside his eyes were red, but he seemed more at peace.
I tried to hide everything pregnancy-related from him, working to not freak him out, but one morning he came into the bathroom where I was silently hanging my head over the toilet.
“Jesus.” He kneeled down beside me. He gathered up my hair and rubbed my back while I barfed. Then he crouched in front of me and pressed a cold compress to my face.
“Thank you.” I sat on the floor, looking up at him.
“Is it always that bad?”
“Not always. Some mornings are better than others.”
That night, when I came home from work, there was a pile of saltine crackers, ginger ale, hard lemon candies and an array of herbal teas sitting on the island.
Mica was doing everything possible to keep me safe. He went on walks with me. He went grocery shopping with me and carried the bags. One night I found him researching portable fetal heart rate dopplers. Another day he came home with a portable blood pressure monitor. He bought me a smartwatch so he could track my heart rate on his phone. When he left for away games, Zoey would show up the night of, suitcase and cat cage in hand.
“You don’t have to keep on doing this.” I opened the door wide for her and Ikea. “We could just tell him you stayed over.”
She reached up and gave me a hard hug. “He thought you’d say that, and he made me promise we wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, what about your life? You can’t keep babysitting me.”
She gave me an impish smile. “You have better food at your house.”
“Is that your party line?”
“When my life went to shit and nothing was right, it was Mica showing up at my place, helping me build furniture and checking me for a pulse. I would do anything for him. Ryan would too.”
That made me misty-eyed.
So, at the end of the day, I didn’t say a word. The guy was dealing with his fears the best he could, so I didn’t tease him or fight him on any of it. I took all his requests seriously. If he asked me to take my blood pressure every morning, I obliged. If he filled my water bottle for me, I drank the whole damn thing. If he wanted to carry my grocery bag that weighed only two pounds, I let him. He was by my side, and that was all that mattered.
The only thing Mica refused to do was touch me. Every kiss I tried to deepen, he kept chaste. When I snuggled too close, he eased his hard body away from mine. I tried to entice him by prancing around in lingerie. His eyes tracked my body, and his hard-ons were more than evident, but he would not come near me.
He hugged me, held my hand, cradled me while I slept, but he was as chaste as a nun when it came to any more baby-making business.
I knew what was going on. He was afraid of hurting me or the baby. I didn’t want to make him talk about it, because the guy had already been stripped emotionally in the last few weeks. Forcing him to talk about more of his feelings was exactly what he didn’t need.
What he needed was some hot, intense sex. A lot of it.
I DECIDED to rely on my old friend, vodka. I invited Ryan and Zoey for dinner and I poured a lot of wine. Then, when I served a blueberry cheesecake—because lately, I seemed to love anything cake—I brought out the vodka. Ice cold, a premium brand.
My sober self enjoyed watching Mica loosen up and relax. He and Ryan told story after story about hockey, each of them getting funnier and more outrageous. When I sent them home in a cab, Zoey’s cheeks were flushed hot pink and Ryan was so shit-faced he could barely walk.
Mica wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “Mmm, thank you for tonight. I needed that.”
That wasn’t all he needed.
I felt like a villain about to take advantage of my prey. I waited until he was fast asleep, snoring softly beside me, before I slipped out of bed. I changed into a racy teddy made of sheer black lace with a tiny see-through thong designed to showcase the goods, not hide them.
I kneeled beside him, debating where I wanted to start. I delicately pushed his boxers down and sucked him into my mouth. He moaned.
His cock grew hard in my mouth and his hips were moving in his sleep. It didn’t take much to make his poor, deprived cock rock hard. I sat up and straddled him, looking down at how perfect he was. Never had I seen such a beautiful man. I stroked him until pre-cum dripped onto my hand.
He awoke with a start, his eyes wide and on my face. I raised my hips and slowly drew his cock along my apex, pushing aside the flimsy fabric so we could touch sex against sex. He moved so fast, flipping me onto my back and pushing into me with one long thrust.
I could see his eyes widen as he became more conscious, so I wrapped my legs tight around his waist and tried on my best dirty talk.
“Your wife needs to be fucked, Mica. I need you so bad.”
He growled, unable to fight himself, and he thrust into me a few times.
He shook his head. I could tell he was trying to stop. Trying to get himself under control.
“My pussy needs your cock so bad. It’s so lonely and horny. And it wants your big crazy cock to do crazy things.”
I never said I was good at dirty talk.
But my words seemed to drive him right over the edge. This was no gentle lovemaking, where he treated me like spun glass. This was some good old-fashioned fucking.
I egged him on. “Harder, faster. I need you to fuck me like you mean it. Pound into me, Mica. I need your cock.”
And my husband obliged. The guy was built to fuck. It seemed a shame to waste that on tender kisses and slow, shallow thrusts. I came three times. Then he flipped me onto my hands and knees and made me come a fourth time. Only then did he let himself come.
He shouted in Russian when he came before landing on the bed beside me.
He was breathing hard. I was breathing harder.
“We shouldn’t have done that.” His eyes were on my breasts.
“Wrong. My body needs sex. A lot of sex.”
And there came that smile. The one that curled my toes.
“CHARLIE, ARE YOU READY?” Mica called.
I stood at the balcony doors. “Sasha won’t come in.”
He came to stand beside me. “Sasha!”
Sasha panted. Mica took off after him. Sasha thought it was a big game. Over the hot tub lid, through the hedge, knocking over deck chairs. They had a fast-paced game of chase before Mica conceded defeat.
“Get the dog treats.”
“The trainer said we’re just rewarding bad behavior.”
He was out of breath. “We are, but we’re already late.”
“We’re failing as parents,” I whispered as we tempted Sasha with a dog cookie.
He laughed. “Yeah, but look how cute he is.”
It took a lot of cajoling, but we finally got Sasha inside.
WE ARRIVED at the rink for the annual kids’ charity skate. I wanted to put on skates, but Mica forbid it. So, I sat on the edge and watched him skate around the ice with all the little kids. As usual, when he moved on skates, I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off him.
He bent down on one knee and took pictures with the kids. He led them in a long conga line. He skated backward, just out of their reach, and made them chase him.
A little girl wearing a purple snowsuit valiantly tried to keep up to the group, but despite her best efforts, they were lapping her. In frustration, she sat down on the ice and started to cry.
I watched with interest as Mica stopped in front of her, kneeling to her level, talking to her quietly. She was explaining something intently to him, pointing around the ice, and he was listening seriously. He said something to her and then she agreed and stood up.
I watched as he bent down and put his big hands under her arms. He started to skate, pushing her around the ice. When she wobbled, he steadied her. When her feet got tangled up and dragged behind her, he lifted her and righted her on her feet. She laughed so hard, you could hear her clear across the ice.
My heart expanded big in my chest and my hand rested on my belly.
That’s your daddy out there. He will be the best dad in the world.
“You’re still hanging in there,” a cool voice said beside me.
I glanced up at Sabrina. She looked picture-perfect with her red hair in a long swinging ponytail at the top of her head and a puffy white ski jacket.
I ignored her.
She leaned down and spoke quietly in my ear. “You’re such a fool. You realize your husband has been fucking around on you for months.”
“Shut up,” I said, angry at myself for even indulging her.
She smiled at me. “Not that long after your wedding, he came crawling back to me.”
“Mica’s faithful.”
She gave me a knowing little smile. “Is that why he buys me tickets to all his away games? All those little phone calls he makes at night to you? I’m usually sucking on his cock when he talks to you.”
I didn’t have to listen to this. “You’re so pathetic.”
I started to walk away, but she grabbed my arm. “He told me how gullible you are, how you fall for all his lines. He said that he can feed you any line and you eat it up, hook, line, and sinker, but he’s tiring of playing house with you.”
I shook her arm off. “Leave me and my husband alone.”
“He’s the one who can’t leave me alone. He can’t get enough of fucking me. He told me I’m his little addiction.”
“DID YOU HAVE FUN?” He smiled at me as we walked out.
“I did. Those kids were adorable.”
Sabrina, not so much.
“The little one with the purple snowsuit—she was a cute one, hey?”
I smiled up at him as he took my hand.
I imagined him lying on a hotel bed, phone to his ear, asking me about my day while Sabrina worked her mouth over his hard cock.
Instantly, I felt guilty for even thinking that about him. He smiled down at me. “You okay?”
He loves me. He would never cheat on me.
“I’m okay.”
