“I’m only running a little late,” Eric said. “I’ll be home in ten minutes.”
“All right,” I said. “Not much later than that, though. Dinner will only keep for so long.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go out tonight? I mean, we can always put the food in the fridge, right? We’ll have it tomorrow.”
“Nah. I’d rather it just be you and me tonight.”
“But cooking dinner on your anniversary?”
“I told you it’s fine.” I couldn’t help smiling. “Now get off the phone and get on the road, Mr. Turner.”
“Fine, Mrs. Turner. Be there soon.”
I hung up, still smiling, and put the finishing touches on the chicken parmesan before sliding the fried cutlets into the oven to finish cooking in their tomato sauce and cheese. I slid the pasta from its box into the boiling water on the stove. Everything was going according to schedule.
It still felt strange sometimes, cooking dinner for my husband in my childhood home. It had been a year, and there were still times when I felt the need to pinch myself so I’d know it was all real. It had meant so much to me that Eric had agreed to live there, rather than living at his house or another house of our own. His was only a rental anyway, so it wasn’t as though he had to go through the hassle of selling it. Rather than selling my mother’s home, which in the months after her death in the hospice seemed impossible, he agreed that we should settle in and make it our own.
We had made it our own, too—well, I had. He still wasn’t much for interior decorating, and I knew he never would be. He was smart enough to acquiesce to my wishes, except when he strongly disagreed with something I wanted. At least I’d managed to get him to start picking up after himself. No more pizza boxes all over the house.
It was an adjustment for both of us, one we still worked on. All couples did, not just two people who came from such opposite worlds. We had a strong foundation of love to build on, which was a good start. Everything else was background noise as far as I was concerned.
It had taken me a little time to get used to the club. Not to the people in it—I liked them all and appreciated everything they’d done to rescue me from Gareth. They were all good people, like Eric, if a little rough around the edges. It was cute, actually, watching them try to control their language around me. They had enough respect for me and my husband to do that. After a year of marriage, I’d cooked more food for them than I could remember, and hosted them around my dining room tables countless times.
They were a family, and I was part of it. What a strange concept, but there was something to be said for that family structure. They all had my back, and I cared about all of them. They needed a good woman in their lives. I would be that woman by proxy until their old ladies came along.
An old lady. It made me laugh whenever I thought about my title. I was the old lady of the club’s president. The First Lady, as I called myself in my head. Bizarre. Women like me weren’t supposed to be involved with motorcycle clubs, but there I was, in the middle of it.
When Eric walked through the front door, I was just putting the finishing touches on our meal. “Just in time!” I called out, smiling as he walked into the kitchen. He still had a way about him, a certain way of looking at me that took my breath away. I knew one year wasn’t long to be married and that, God willing, we had a lot of years ahead of us. I hoped my heart still gave a little flutter after five, fifteen, twenty more years.
He presented me with a bouquet of red roses, which I ooh’d and ahh’d over before putting them in a vase and sitting them in the middle of the dining room table.
“How was your day, husband?” I set the food out on the table.
“Busy as usual, wife.” He stretched, sighing. “When I decided to take us one hundred percent legit, I didn’t know it was gonna take so much work.”
“But it’ll be worth it in the end, right?” I asked, sliding chicken onto my plate, topping it off with a pile of spaghetti.
“Of course, it will. I’ll just bitch and moan about it in the meantime.”
I laughed. No words could convey how relieved I was that the club was going legitimate. Legitimacy meant a lot stricter control of the books, though, and attention to detail the club hadn’t had to pay before. The IRS only needed to see that it looked like they were hiding something to start auditing, and there would be a lot of unreported income to answer for when that day came.
Still, financial concerns aside, it was a load off my mind. I could rest easy knowing my husband would come home at the end of the day. They still had late nights sometimes, still got caught up in negotiations that lasted into the morning. But that was all it was. It wasn’t shoot-outs and robberies and God only knew what else. When the phone rang, it was Eric, telling me he was coming home to me. It wasn’t the police or the hospital.
Ever since Gareth’s entire MC went down for underage sex trafficking, life had lightened up considerably. Eric was a lot more relaxed without his enemy hanging over his head, scheming against him. None of the Reign of Chaos would be out of prison in less than twenty-five years. We’d decide what to do about them when the time came.
“How was your day?” Eric asked.
“You know. Another day, another ton of work.” I was in my second semester of culinary school, and that day we’d reviewed different types of sauces. I was so relieved when Eric asked for simple chicken parmesan for our anniversary dinner, I could have cried. I might have lost my mind if I had to reduce another wine sauce…not like Eric was a wine sauce type of person.
“I talked to Rob at the office about an internship in the kitchen, and he seemed okay with it. He’ll need a little time to think it over, he said.” It would be an interesting change, working in the kitchen instead of behind the bar the way I used to, but at least the learning curve of the kitchen would be easier since I was already familiar with it.
“You need me to go over there, help him make up his mind a little quicker?” Eric’s eyes narrowed.
“Um, no. I think it would be best if you stayed out of it, though I love you for thinking about it.” I could just imagine my old boss wetting his pants when he saw my husband, the big bad biker, coming for him.
“You know,” I continued, my heart beating a little faster, “I might have to take a little time off once the internship’s over.”
“Really? What’s up?”
“Can you pour me some more water?” I asked, pointing to the pitcher by Eric’s hand.
“No wine tonight?” He tipped the pitcher, filling my glass. Somewhere in there, he figured it out. His eyes met mine, and his jaw nearly hit the table.
“Uh, that’s enough!” I laughed as water sloshed all over the table, and put the pitcher back down since my husband was all but catatonic. I had wanted to wait, to give him the news as a “gift” of sorts after dinner, but I’d been just about bursting ever since leaving the doctor’s office that morning.
“Are you saying…what I think you’re saying?” His voice was little louder than a whisper.
“I don’t know. What do you think I’m saying?” I whispered back.
“I’m afraid to say it. I might jinx you or something.”
“You won’t.” I grinned and took his hands. “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”
He stood, pulling me out of my chair along with him before wrapping me in a bear hug. “You’re sure?”
“Completely. The doctor says I’m three months along.”
“So much already?”
“I wanted to wait to be sure,” I said.
“And you didn’t tell me? All this time?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise, and I wanted to be absolutely sure before I said anything.” I looked up into his face. “Are you glad?”
“Glad?” He laughed, throwing his head back. “Yeah, I’m glad. That’s a word for it. I’m also fucking ecstatic.” He kissed me again and again, both of us laughing in between kisses, tears wetting my cheeks.
It didn’t take long for the kisses to heat up. After a year of marriage, and a year of living together prior to that, I never got tired of him or his body, his hands, his kisses. The smell and taste of him. He was a hunger in me that would never go away. I couldn’t satisfy my need for him no matter how many times I had him.
His hands ran down my back, cupping my butt. I groaned, moving my hips closer to him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, pulling away. “Is it all right?”
I chuckled, then cupped him in my hand. “I’m sure. Just, you know, take it easy on me.”
He grinned, and I led him by the hand up to the bedroom. As soon as we were there, we took off our clothes, never taking our eyes off each other. I knew my body would be changing soon, and I hoped he still looked at me then the way he looked at me in that moment. His eyes were full of lust and love, so much passion and want.
I met him beside the bed. The sight of his body still turned me on, and the knowledge that he was all mine was almost more than I could bear sometimes. He was mine. I’d hit the jackpot, for sure.
He took me in his arms and kissed me, so gently and tenderly. I closed my eyes and sank into the feeling of his hands on me, his arms around me, his lips on mine. I felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, and I knew my own heartbeat matched his. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his, needing the feeling of his skin against mine. I tingled from head to toe, almost buzzing with anticipation.
He stroked my butt again, making me gasp and groan. Heat sparked between my legs, turning to fire the longer he touched me and kissed me. I pulled away from him, throwing my head back. He ran his mouth down my throat. I clutched his shoulders, holding myself up when my knees went weak and threatened to go out from under me. I gasped when he nibbled my shoulder, then moved further down. He picked me up and lowered me onto the bed, lowering himself over me to worship my body with his mouth. He lingered on my belly, and I stroked his hair as he kissed me tenderly. He glanced up at me with a smile on his face, and I smiled back.
Then he moved lower. I closed my eyes, running my hands through Eric’s thick, long hair as he kissed his way down my thighs, then dipped his tongue between my lips. I sighed at the first touch on my button, then moaned his name when his tongue made slow, tight circles over it. I held him closer with my hands on the back of my head, my thighs on either side. He ran his hands all over my body, fondling my breasts, flicking my nipples as he flicked my button. I ground my hips against his mouth, wanting more pressure, begging for it. He pinched my nipples and I arched my back, crying out.
I felt the tension grow tighter, tighter in my core. I felt the climax approach, and I welcomed it.
“Yes!” I cried out again and again as my muscles clenched and I threw my head back with a shuddering cry.
He wasted no time—I knew he wanted me. He always loved hearing me come, knowing that he was the one who made me come. I let him turn me over onto my hands and knees. He positioned himself against me without a word and slid inside.
Yes. This was what I needed, him inside me forever. Whatever was happening—whatever we were going through together or any growing pains we felt as a couple—this made everything right again somehow. Nothing else mattered when we were together like this, when he was inside me.
He took my hips in his hands, working me up and down his rigid length. I worked against him, moving with him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The angle, the depth were all perfect, hitting me in just the right spot. I cried out, feeling the tension build again, so soon after the first time.
“Yes!” I screamed, just once, throwing back my head and tensing all over, then shuddering. He stayed still, and I knew it was because he didn’t want to give over to the pulsing of my muscles around his length. He waited until I loosened and slid out, rolling me onto my back.
I gave myself over to abandon, closing my eyes as he slid inside me again. This time I held him against me. I might have loved the angle when he took me from behind, but being face-to-face was still my favorite. I got to look at him and feel his breath on my neck as he rocked us both.
He pushed himself up on his arms, grinding his length into me again and again. I felt every inch of him touching every inch of me, the delicious friction building. I urged him on, pushing him further. Running my hands up and down his arms, over his chest, over his neck and shoulders. I pushed back against him, my feet on the bed, driving him closer to his finish. He grunted with every thrust, every time our bodies slapped together.
“Yes, baby,” I whispered, dragging my nails over his chest. “Yes. Give it to me, let me feel you come.”
He grunted louder, almost screaming, throwing his head back as his climax ripped through him. I felt complete peace and joy, watching my beautiful man find bliss in my body. I never knew love like that could exist, and it took my breath away every time.
After we caught our breath and came to our senses, I snuggled up against him. His body was so warm and tight, and there was never anywhere I would rather be than in his arms. He locked them around me, keeping me safe in his embrace. I dozed off for a little bit—pregnancy was already taking it out of me—and when I woke up with a start, I was still in his arms.
“You let me fall asleep,” I murmured, pushing my hair back from my face to look up at him. He smiled down at me.
“I didn’t let you do anything. There was no stopping you. I wasn’t about to wake you up.”
“What if I had slept all night?”
“Then I would have stayed like that all night.” And I knew he meant it. That was the best part. He would always put me before himself. It was a gift he gave me every day.
“Are you sure it was okay for us to do that?” He stroked my back, my hips, my thighs.
“I already asked the doctor,” I murmured, my head on his chest. “We’re early enough yet that it’s fine, and even when I’m further along, it’ll be okay as long as we take it easy. No acrobatics, I think he said.”
“Damn, and I was thinking we should spice things up a little now that we’ve been married for a year. I’m starting to get bored.” He chuckled when I smacked his arm.
“Don’t even joke about that.” There were still times when I wondered if I was enough for him. I knew he was used to being with lots of women before we met, and I worried that he would actually get bored. Plus, he’d taught me everything I knew about sex, being my first and only.
“Hey.” He took my chin in his hand and tilted it up until our eyes met. “You’re more than enough for me. You’re everything to me. You always will be.” Then his hand drifted down to my belly. “I can’t believe we did this.”
“Just think, six months to go.” I kissed him. Six months, and the rest of our lives after that. I knew our lives would never be anything less than an adventure.
THE END
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