Cassidy’s in the shower when I wake up. I praise myself for my cleverness in designing this house because, with the door to the ensuite open, the shower is in clear view from our bed.
I raise on my elbows, watching my girl lather her breasts with soap. Water cascades down her sexy body, dripping over the small bump.
At fourteen weeks, the alluring roundness of her tummy is finally showing under fitted clothes, which is why I don’t let her wear baggy jumpers. I’ve been waiting for this moment too long to let her hide the bump under loose t-shirts.
I want everyone to know she’s pregnant. Meaning taken. Claimed. Mine.
It’s just past six in the morning, and it’s the first time Cass has been up before me since she moved in. She’s been sleeping more and more as the days go by. Thankfully, sleepiness is the only inconvenience associated with pregnancy.
She’s not been sick, she’s not swelling, and she stopped crying for no reason two weeks ago. The only craving she has is lemons. Better than pickles, I guess, but my jaw hurts when she peels the skin off and eats them like apples.
I get out of bed to join her in the shower.
“Morning,” she says, eyes roaming down my body to stop at my stiff cock. “Oh good, you’re ready.”
I chuckle, pulling her to my chest. “Are you?” That’s a stupid question considering she’s wet for me twenty-four-seven lately, but I trail my hand down her stomach until I reach the mark, rubbing her gently. “That’s encouraging.”
She spins around, pressing herself to me and a small whimper leaves her mouth at the contact. She’s already worked up, her boobs full, swollen, cheeks rosy, pupils blown.
There’s nothing better than a woman ready and willing bright and early in the morning. I run my fingers up the side of her body, watching her shudder when the pad of my thumb grazes her pebbled nipple.
“You had another dirty dream, didn’t you?” I ask, cupping her ass and giving it a gentle squeeze. She’s been waking up needy from intense, erotic dreams for two weeks, and fuck if waking up to her lips working my cock under the comforter isn’t a fantasy come true. “Tell me about it.”
She pours a generous amount of my shower gel into the palm of her hand and rubs it over my chest and shoulders, taking her sweet time before she grips the base of my cock and pumps slowly.
“I’d rather show you,” she says, her voice breathless when she shoves me further under the stream and drops to her knees, taking me in her mouth.
“I’d rather you show me too,” I groan, my eyes rolling back into my head when she sucks, gliding her lips as far down as she can. “That’s it, baby,” I grab a fistful of her hair. “That’s good. Just like that.”
Her lips are incredible, and it takes little time before I’m there, on the brink of an orgasm. As if sensing impending doom, Cassidy releases me with a soft pop and gets back up.
I grip her waist, scoop her off her feet, and then lay her on the bed, wet and needy. I used to throw her, but I learned to handle her a bit more carefully now that she’s a two-pack.
I waste no time diving between her thighs, closing my lips on her clit. She smells fresh, like ginger and lemons. Turns out it’s neither hair shampoo nor body lotion, it’s shower gel.
“It must’ve been one hell of a dream,” I say, looking up at her pretty, flustered face. “We’re going to recreate it. Tell me what to do.”
She chuckles softly. “I thought you didn’t need pointers.”
“I don’t, but a brief description will help.”
She moves her legs onto my back and weaves her fingers in my hair, yanking me down hard. “Lips,” she utters, her eyes closing. “Two fingers.”
“Three words,” I whisper, then do as I’m told, licking her bottom to top as I slide two fingers inside. “Just like that?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “Oh god, yes. Don’t stop.”
She palms her breasts, and another needy whimper leaves her lips. I don’t think I deserve this, but pregnancy hormone Gods are definitely in my corner.
Thirty seconds is all it takes for the orgasm to rip through her body like fire in dry grass. She fists my hair and keeps me in place while her hips arch, and she rides her high, coming all over my tongue. I’m rock-hard watching her take what she needs. She’s not done trembling before she tugs on my hair, forcing me to climb higher until she can reach my lips to kiss.
“That’s the sexiest thing you’ve done to date.” I brush her wet hair away from her face. “I want more of my needy princess,” I whisper, biting her ear.
“I need you. Now,” she says, her tone urgent as if she can’t wait any longer. “And I want you to not be so gentle.”
Not gentle? I’ve toned down the wild sex for now, too worried about hurting her or our baby somehow, but there’s no denying that holding back fucking sucks.
She flips onto her tummy, pushing her ass out.
“You want it hard?” I position myself at her entrance, the tight space even tighter at this angle. “As you wish.” With one stroke, I’m inside, and I lean over her back. “Hold onto the edge of the bed, baby.”
She grips it with both hands when I pull out and drive back into her, the pace of my thrust fast and demanding to give her what she desperately needs.
This is heaven.
“Oh God,” she moans when the bed starts slamming against the wall. “Don’t stop.”
As if I could. The angle is perfect, and knowing she wants and needs me to take her like this brings the primal instincts to the surface. A mist of sweat works its way onto my chest within minutes. I fight the urge to spill inside her hot pussy when her moans grow louder.
She props herself on her elbows, arching her back, then grabs my right hand and cups it around her swollen breast.
“Don’t hold it,” I rasp, slamming into her. “I’ll make you come again. As many times as you need. Let go.”
The second I take her hard nipple between my fingers, she gasps, and her walls throb around me, the orgasm so intense she’s shaking, fisting the sheets, and writhing beneath me, pushing her hips back to take me even deeper.
“There you go,” I say, rocking into her hard to prolong the sensation until she comes down from her high.
I don’t ask for more pointers. I pull out, push my hand under her waist and pull her up like a rag doll, forcing her to kneel on the bed and grip the headrest with both hands. “You good, princess? You want more?”
“Yes,” she utters. “I love you so much.”
“Not more than I love you. Hold on tight.”
I grip her throat, forcing her to rest the back of her head on my shoulder when I thrust in, forcing another needy whimper out of her lips. I swear her boobs grew bigger overnight, again. They no longer fit in my hand.
“Harder,” she breathes between soft moans. “Please, Logan… harder.”
“Shh, it’s okay, you need more, not harder,” I coo in her ear, then dig my thumb into the dimple on her lower back, ramming into her like I’m on a fucking mission.
I slide my hand from her throat to her clit and use two fingers to rub tight circles.
It’s still not enough, so I spin her around and force her to straddle me. My hands and mouth free to give her more while she rides me, dictating the pace.
It’s frantic.
She needs the release so much she claws my back, rising and falling in a rushed, demanding tempo.
I rub her with my thumb and take care of her swollen breasts, grazing my teeth over her hard nipples. She moans, gasps, and I’ve never loved the look on her face more than in this moment when she’s focused solely on herself.
When the third orgasm comes, I tip over the edge with her, pumping a few more times before I still.
We’re both breathless, my muscles on fire, chest heaving, and heart racing as if I had just run a marathon.
“You’re so hot when you come,” I say, pulling out slowly, my lips on the back of her head. “You good? You want more?”
We can’t go too long without sex, but I’ve been on dick duty two, sometimes three times a day the past two weeks. And today? That was the wildest ride since I found out she’s pregnant. I regret it a little, knowing she’ll most likely be sore all day but fuck if that wasn’t hot.
“I’m good for now. I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t. Don’t apologize. I’ll give you whatever you need.” I kiss her forehead. “Believe me, I’m more than happy about your sex drive.”
“It’s the hormones.” She hides her face in the crook of my neck. “Dr. Jones says I should stop being so horny by the end of the second trimester. Maybe sooner.”
“I sure fucking hope not.” I move my hand lower, spreading my fingers over her bump. “When will she start kicking? I’m growing old here.”
“You ask every day. He won’t start kicking for at least another month, probably longer.”
We’re both sure about the baby’s sex. Cass says it’s a boy, but she’s wrong.
I caress the bump with my thumb and tap my fingers along the middle to wake our little princess. Although all the rocking just now probably did the trick. “Kick,” I whisper. “Go on, Ava, kick Daddy.”
“Ava? You want your son’s name to be Ava? He’ll be bullied at school.”
“It’s a girl.”
“It’s a boy,” she huffs. “What do your brothers think?”
“Well, one of them thinks I’m gay.” I smirk and duck when she tries to smack my head.
“I meant the sex of the baby.”
“That’s beside the point.”
A triumphant smile curves her lips. “They’re team Owen, aren’t they?”
“They’re team boy. No fucking way it’ll be Owen, though. Nico’s the only one still on my side. His money’s on a girl. He bet everyone a hundred bucks.”
“Doesn’t he lose like every time?”
“Shut up. It’s a girl.” I pull her to my side, kissing the crown of her head.
“I’ll tell you when he, your son, kicks, so please stop asking every day. Also, you need to let me go.”
I chuckle, moving my hand away. She’s got the bladder capacity of a toddler these days, and I bet it’ll only get worse.
Whatever. I’m loving this.
I love taking care of her. I love stopping at the grocery store every night to buy more lemons or whatever she asks for. I love holding her close and stroking her hair while we watch a movie.
And I. Love. Her.
So fucking much I can’t breathe sometimes.
My phone pings on the nightstand a second after Cass locks herself in the bathroom. It’s just past seven in the morning, but as it’s Friday and they’re getting ready for work or college, I’m not surprised to see a notification from the Hayes group chat.
Before I unlock the screen and open the app, five more pings sound in quick succession. The first thing that jumps out at me is a picture sent by Cody. Not just any random picture.
It’s a book.
More specifically, “Sweet truth” by Aisha Harlow. My face and abs are clear as day on the cover, my arm snaked across Mia’s back, her face hidden behind a veil of wavy, blonde hair.
Cass showed me a copy of the book as soon as it was released weeks ago. I forgot all about it, but I should’ve known my brothers would find it sooner or later.
Cody: And the Model of the Year award for the picture titled LOWEST HANGING PANTS goes to…
I burst out laughing. From all the things they could’ve found wrong with that picture, the jeans hanging low on my hips—as per Cass’s instructions during the shoot—showcasing the V on my abdomen is what Cody chooses to mock.
Not my glistening chest covered in baby oil.
Not the mess that my hair is, as if I just got out of bed because Aisha’s a shitty stylist at best.
Not the way I’m glaring at the camera.
Nope. My jeans.
A bunch of laughing emojis and gifs litter the screen, and I scroll down to the next text message.
Theo: Logan. This is an intervention. Let us talk. We’re worried about you.
Shawn: Firstly, you need to understand that we’ll always love you, but…
Nico: Your narcissism is spiraling out of control.
Colt: Your obsession with baby oil isn’t healthy.
Me: You’re all assholes.
Cody: There’s no need for name-calling, Logan.
Conor: Take a deep breath. We’re trying to help.
I chuckle again just as Cassidy gets out of the bathroom, watching me with curious eyes.
“What are you smiling at?” She crawls in beside me, resting her head on my chest, one hand draped across my middle.
“My brothers only now found Aisha’s book. They’re staging a text-message intervention to tackle my narcissism and baby oil addiction.”
I angle my phone, letting her read through the messages, but it’s not even three minutes later that her breathing stabilizes, and she falls asleep again.
Careful not to wake her, I untangle myself from her arms to get ready for work. As much as I hate leaving Cassidy alone, I love coming back to her. That’s the one thing I’ll do for the rest of my life. I’ll always come home to her.
