Tamzin.
“Mary?”
“No,” I sigh, resting my head on Noel’s lap while he strokes my hair. We are sitting on the sofa in front of the open fire in our nearly-matching, winter pyjamas that he insisted on buying. It’s Sunday evening, it’s icy out and we’re making the most of our quiet time before another hectic week of work starts. I officially have one week left, and I can’t wait to kick back and do nothing. Although, having said that, I’ve written another list of ‘to dos’ that is as long as my arm because nesting mode is slowly creeping in.
“Ivy?”
“Nope.”
“Nick?”
“Stop looking around the room and finding things that resembles Christmas to come up with baby names,” I laugh. “This baby is not being named after foliage or a made-up story from our childhood.”
“Hey.” He pokes me in the ribs. “I’ll have you know that Santa is real.”
I smile, turning back to the baby name book Evie bought us. “What about Richard if it’s a boy?”
“Fuck no.”
“Why not?”
“My son will not be known as a dick.”
I laugh. Some of the names in here are ridiculous. “What about Fanny,” I tease.
“Come again.”
“Can you imagine the trouble it would have in school if we were to have a daughter and call her that?”
“And if we were to have both and still call the boy Richard?”
I burst out laughing. “Dick and Fanny Thompson.”
Noel takes the book from me and scans the pages, reading out more bizarre names, while I slowly smooth my hands over my bump and smile once it kicks back. I’ve finally started to think of my birthing plan, although as for packing my bag, it’s still left untouched in the nursery. I’ve too many more important things to think about other than throwing a few clothes into a bag when I’ll be too drugged up to even care about it.
“What about Quince for a boy?” Noel asks.
“We’re having a baby not a puppy.” Neither of us can settle on a name and it’s starting to worry me. What if we’ll never be able to name it? Is this common with first-time parents? What if it grows up and resents the name we choose? What if it resents us altogether?
Jesus, why is this so hard?
Suddenly getting uncomfortable with my own thoughts, I push myself up and stand from the sofa. My bladder is once again full and I’ve not long come back from the bathroom. The further into this pregnancy I get, the more the constant sickness is draining. The more my body aches, the more my feet hurt and I’m convinced my ankles are swollen, even when Noel tells me they’re not. I’m tired and frustrated.
“Massage my feet,” I demand, once I return. He has left the sofa and drawn the curtains, shutting out the night as the glow from the fire and the Christmas tree fill the room. The orange and cinnamon aroma lingers around the house from the scented candles.
“I can’t, angel. There’s a risk it brings on early labour.”
My eyes widen, both shocked that he’s refusing and surprised of his knowledge, regardless as to whether it’s right or not. “You’ve clearly been reading too many pregnancy magazines.”
“You clearly haven’t been reading enough,” he states with a grin.
“Well, if you’re not going to rub my feet, can you at least fuck me?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Again, I’m taken aback at his response; a little annoyed. The last thing a pregnant woman wants to hear when she feels the size of a sea lion is how her man has to consider bedding her. “You need to think about fucking me?”
Irritation bubbles inside when he ignores my question and puts on that same Christmas CD he plays every Goddamn year, and I have to fight the urge not to snap it in two and shove it up his arse.
“Dance with me, Tami?”
“Answer my question,” I snap.
He comes towards me in a confident step, removing his shirt to reveal his washboard chest and tribal tattoo. Even annoyed with him, I can’t deny the need to have him. What pisses me off more is the fact he knows it. “I will fuck you but I would also like my dick to still be intact. Dance with me first; settle your mood.”
“What mood?”
“The one you’ve clearly just found in the bathroom.”
His reply is controlled, and I curse inwardly at myself and at how my hormones spike without realising. I hate taking things out on him. I go to apologise but he places his finger on my lips. “Shh. You don’t have to.”
He takes my hand and pulls me closer, holding my jaw and placing a sweet kiss on my mouth before we begin to sway to the music. It’s not the CD I thought although still Christmas but classical, with soft violins and pianos.
“I’ve not heard this before,” I exhale, falling into his proximity.
“I bought it the other day. I read that soft music calms the baby. I thought it would help you relax.”
I smile. “When have you read all this stuff?”
“When I was in Paris.”
Wanting to get closer, I twirl in his arms so my back is to his front. The soft music and glow of the tree changes the mood and sends me into a haze of longing. Want. Adoration. The feel of his breath against my neck and the warmth of him travel through my nightshirt, but I still don’t feel close enough. “I need to feel your skin.” I murmur, as we sway. His hands leave my hips to take the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head to discard it on the floor. The heat of the flickering fire tingles my bare nipples as I fall into the deep muscle of the man behind me, enveloping me in his arms. My eyes close when his lips press to my shoulder and neck, his large hands flat on my rounding stomach.
The whimper I try to hold leaves the back of my throat and my sex begins to pulse when his fingertips tease the waistband of my pyjama bottoms. I feel his grin against my neck. This man is my undoing and he damn well knows it. “Your breathing has changed, angel. Are you feeling better?”
I nod and whisper, breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just relax.”
“I’m relaxed now.”
And sexually aroused.
“I know.”
The feel of his arousal pressing into me through the thin fabric increases the rising and falling of my chest, and when he removes my bottoms it fuels the burning desire that’s rapidly building inside me faster than I can control. The tremor in my legs has me reaching to hold his nape, lacing my fingers through his hair. “Noel…” I plead, with hunger.
Turning my head with his fingers, he finds my mouth, parting my lips with his tongue and plunging it inside. His kiss is powerful and owning as his fingers continue to tantalise down my waist to my hips before slowly sweeping across my skin to tease my pubic bone. The presence of this man still surprises me with every touch, and with every trace I fall into his beautiful seduction, even when he hasn’t even touched me yet. He knows my body better than I do and he knows what torment he’s putting my body under. He is loving every second.
“Noel.”
“Yes, angel?”
“I need to come.”
Walking us forward he guides us back to the sofa, pushing me down so I get on all fours and rest my arms on the cushion. I cry out when his palm makes contact with my arse, heightening the arousal that’s pooling between my thighs.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he growls, dropping his pyjama bottoms to the floor before kneeling behind me. My blood is boiling. I need him inside me so bad.
I buck my hips and moan when his hand comes between my thighs and his fingers slip into my scorching core.
“You’re so wet, angel.”
“You always seem so surprised.”
Hot wet kisses roam across my shoulder blades before the tips of his tongue draws up my spine as he fucks me with his fingers. Before long, I’m gripping the cushion and crying his name as my climax rips through me.
“Has that made you feel better?”
I can hear the grin in his question, but I need more. My body burns for something much more powerful and only he can fix that.
“It’s not enough.” My voice is thick with desperation. His hard cock teases and torments my entrance. “I need more. I need you inside me.”
“But you’ve just had me inside you, angel. My fingers love your hot pussy.”
He plunges a finger inside again before trailing the wetness up to tease my arse hole. My breathing intensifies and my knuckles turn white. He knows I love this and how it’s tormenting me not having him inside. That’s the one thing he won’t do while I’m pregnant. Instead, to remind me of what I’m missing, he pushes in a finger while his other hand comes back to my clit.
“Yes,” the pressure of him inside me, his fingers playing with my pussy and the feel of him caging me is more than I can take and I climax again. The heat of the fire has my skin covered in perspiration and my need for him is driving me wild.
“Noel,”
“Yes, angel.”
“Please,” I gasp.
“Your dirty mouth can do better than that.” He leans over me; his breath hits my ears with a demanding whisper. “Say it.”
“Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”
“How?”
“I don’t give a shit how just do it.”
His low laugh and strong grip on my hips has me moaning when he pushes inside. He’s so deep, my eyes blur with the fullness of him. Once I adjust around him, he doesn’t hold back and his thrusts come hard and fast just how I want them. He’s not hurting me but the pressure is so intense it robs me of my breath.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growls, pulling my upper body to arch my back. I match his moves, pushing back on him so he hits the sweet spot. My body is a blaze and the burn briskly takes over my legs, travelling to my core whilst I scream his name. I contract around his cock as my orgasm ruptures through me like a volcano. My legs quiver and the blood pounds in my ears. My throat is dry from my panting as I try and control my breathing. Two more thrusts and my name is a hungry growl off his lips as he fills me with his own heat.
“God, I love you,” I pant, loosing strength as my upper body collapses to the cushions.
“And here I was thinking it was me you loved?” That low laugh rumbles from his chest once more as he pulls out, kissing my arse cheek before coming to a stand.
“Call April, tell her my blood pressure is high,” I giggle.
“Are you, all right?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Although I don’t think I can walk. You’ve ruined me.”
He laughs. “Come here; I’ll carry you to bed.”
I push him away playfully, still weak. “No thanks I’ll stay here and sleep.”
“You’re pregnant you can’t sleep on the sofa.”
“But it’s okay to fuck me here?”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.” He scoops his arms under me to help me stand before hooking his arm around my back and under my legs.
“Noel, don’t. I’m heavy.”
“You are not,” he laughs. “Besides, I need you well rested if I’m going to fuck you again.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus.”
Noel.
The buzz of my phone vibrating on my desk brings me out of my trance as I stare out the large windows of my office overlooking the busy city. The cold damp air hangs in a fine mist over the skyscraper buildings while coloured Christmas lights illuminate the streets due to the dull afternoon sky.
Tamzin: This is the second time today I’ve woken up and you’ve not been here. I hate that. Xx
I left her in bed sleeping this morning as I went out for a run before work; I wanted to try to clear my head, only it seemed to make it worse. I’ve not been able to concentrate all day. On anything. For the last few hours all I’ve done is stare at my computer screen when I should be sending emails to Maxwell in Chicago to help him sort my finances out in Paris. My mind just wanders between work, Tamzin, the baby, and unnecessary shit I don’t need to be thinking about. I haven’t slept well these last few nights. I keep having the same dream, and I can’t work out why. All I see is a bright light and a hand that grips my shoulder, and when I turn to see the person standing behind me, I wake. I wouldn’t consider it a nightmare but it brings me out of sleep and leaves me ice cold, all the way to the bone.
Me: Sorry, angel. Did you enjoy your afternoon nap? X
Tamzin: I did until I needed to pee, again! I kid you not, when this baby is out it’s officially grounded. X
I knew she’d take a nap after spending the morning shopping with Evie. She was restless last night herself. That part of her pregnancy is one I don’t like. Her sleepless nights, the sickness and the fact she has to undergo all these changes to her body while I just stand back and watch makes me feel guilty because there’s nothing I can do to ease the burden. Men just shoot their load and carry the fuck on while women literally go through a transformation of life—an ultimate sacrifice where, by bringing new life into the world, they put their own at risk.
Me: I’ll make it up to you later.
Tamzin: You’d better. I have new underwear. *Winks seductively*
I grin at her naughty behaviour, my dick twitching at the thought.
Me: You have?
Tamzin: Maternity style. Classy!
Me: I’m intrigued.
Tamzin: Oh, you should be. They’re like something my gran wore. Now there’s a vision. Ha!
I grin, about to reply, when my brother enters my office unannounced, kicking the door close with his foot while he carries two coffees and a paper bag of cinnamon swirls from his teeth.
“Fuck me, that Sue woman out there is like a predator,” he mumbles, placing the items on the desk. “She was eye-fucking me all the way down the hall.”
“She’s a man eater,” I grin. Sue will literally jump anything with a dick and isn’t afraid to show it. I try my hardest to avoid her.
“Anyway, stop sex texting your baby mamma and enlighten me.”
“On what my sex life? It’s great.”
“Really? A pregnant woman providing some?”
“She’s providing that much sex before and during pregnancy, I practically live inside her.”
He shrugs off his coat and takes a seat at the opposite side of the desk, crossing his ankle over his knee. A halo band of light rain rests on his dark hair and his cheeks are rosy from the cold wind. He just sits there looking at me with questionable eyes while he scoffs his cinnamon swirl. What he’s waiting for, I don’t know.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I just wanted to see your face and remind myself that I’m still the better-looking brother.”
I grin. “In your dreams sunshine.”
“You can start by telling me what’s going on with you.”
I frown, unsure on what he’s getting at. “Nothing, I’m good.”
“And you’re also a lying prick. You’ve had a face like Santa’s died since you came back from Paris. It only brightens up when Tamzin is around.”
“She’s the light of my life.”
“True.” He takes another bite. “But I didn’t make this journey across town to tell you that your dick will curl up and die soon once that baby is here. So talk.”
I contemplate whether to make up some bullshit to steer him off what’s really on my mind. I had a call from Alex first thing from the Parisian firm. It didn’t go well. Our conversation ended in an argument when I questioned the level of statistics for the past couple of weeks. I have to get everything in order if I plan on taking the next step to support my family. I need to talk my concerns through with someone and I don’t want that to be Tamzin. I don’t want her stressing over something that isn’t completely factual just yet. With Dad enjoying retirement, it’s unfair for him to have the burden also, so that only leaves my brother, and having a small share in this business, his opinion could be beneficial to my solo one in Paris. I look around my office and have the sudden urge to get the fuck out of it. “How much time do you have?”
“As much as you want. Karen is collecting the devil child from her Christmas party; Daddy is off duty.”
“Festive beer?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”