I’m standing at the very edge of the beautiful dancing area connected to the beach where our wedding was held.

The sea breeze is picking up, and the red and gold streaks on the horizon are even more breathtaking than the beach.

My gown stirs in the wind as I run my hands over my hips.

It’s a beautiful, perfectly-tailored gown. I had it made in the first stages of wedding planning, as I wanted to be sure I got the design before it was sold elsewhere.

The slender straps and hugging sheath falling into a gorgeous soft drape of long fringes across the skirt enchants me.

When I move and twirl, tiny silver threads grab the light and shine like shooting stars.

It’s just a bit tight across the tummy and hips, but that’s not the dressmakers fault. That’s just what happens when you have your gown fitted early, then get married at nine weeks pregnant.

A warm hand touches my shoulder, and I turn, smiling.

I know it’s Will, and I just let myself drink him in.

He looks amazing in his dove grey tux. It complements my dress perfectly and sets off his deep blue eyes and dark hair.

The angles of his face look more dramatic than ever, maybe he was always this handsome, maybe I have a new appreciation, or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t look hungry anymore.

That desperate energy he had when we first met started to bleed away when he put the ring on my finger.

It disappeared for good the day we found out, for sure, that I was pregnant.

He hugged me so hard I had to tell him to stop squeezing me—or I’d barf up the baby.

He puts an arm around me and I lean into him as he turns and begins to walk back into the reception.

“The others want to dance,” he whispers close to my ear. “And we have to do our wedding waltz first.” He rubs my tummy lightly. “How’s junior? Okay?”

I have to laugh.

“Yes, darling. Fine. Just like the last ten thousand times you’ve asked me.”

He pulls me in for a kiss, like there’s no one else in the room.

I know that my guests are waiting to be entertained and spoken to, but I just don’t give a fuck.

I want to let Will kiss me deep, and deeper, until we flow down into a puddle on the floor and explore every single inch of each other’s bodies with our tongues.

Being pregnant has turned me into a sexual dynamo. I’m always wet, I can’t stop thinking about fucking.

Will has the usual unrealistic man fears about my belly, so we’ve started getting very creative about our positions.

I’ve hardly had any sickness or weakness, and the way I’m going, I’m just going to get hornier by the day.

The strains of music begin to stroke the air, and a loud but even voice booms out, inviting us to take to the floor.

As Will sweeps me into position, I see Sarah avidly chatting with Bea over some champagne.

Would you believe they have the same self-defense instructor?

The two have hit it off.

Sarah threw a fucking fit when we said we were taking a four-week honeymoon to the south of France.

In a way, I don’t blame her. I’m going to work a few hours a day by remote communication, and so is Will.

It’s like having both of us at the helm at once. As soon as we told Sarah about the wedding and the baby, she broke down and cried. I’m hoping this will be a new start for her as well.

This event and my pregnancy has brought our families together.

Will looks into my eyes with a super-cheeky grin.

That eat-shit-I-just-threw-in-your-face look has been gone for some time now. He doesn’t have to defend himself anymore, or protect himself by using sarcasm.

He came through, he learned how to be vulnerable, and not be afraid.

I guess I have learned the same thing.

Right now, I just want to immerse myself in Will.

His arms wrap around my waist, as I put my hands on his shoulders and pull myself against him. The music starts to swell, and he starts slowly twirling me around the floor—he’s been so gentle with me lately.

I think if I want a really hard fuck, I’m going to have to tease him mercilessly to amplify the action. I’ve never made love the way we do now—with power, and force, but slowly savoring each moment of our skin touching.

I never had a lover who could look me in the eye before.

Mid-dance, I reach up and slide my finger along his ear, making him laugh.

We make a few more graceful circles, and people start to clap and join the floor.

I lean against my husband, looking up into his face as I relax into the hardness of his chest. He puts his arms around my waist and lightly rubs my belly again.

“Do you need to sit down?”

Will’s face is so concerned, eyes anxiously looking at me up and down..

“I’m not going to break, babe,” I tell him gently. “Women have been having babies for thousands of years.”

He laughs. “I know that, but you’re my wife…this is my baby. I have the right to worry,” he explains.

“Uh-huh,” I answer. “And did you read the material I left on the bedside table for you?” Will grins.

“About how sex in pregnancy is totally fine and healthy and even swallowing cum is just fine? Yeah, I gave it a look.”

I lean in and steal a kiss, pressing my body against his. I whisper against his ear, gently teasing him with my breath and tongue.

“Do more than look, lover. Think we can sneak away for a while?”

He pulls me closer, presses his mouth against mine, and kisses me deeply.

When I had my new job, apartment, and an office full of roses, I thought I was lucky.

The feeling I have now, holding Will, carrying his baby, is a kind of joy that transcends the triumphs of the world.

It’s my soul recognizing true love.

And I found it.