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Standing in the en suite bathroom, I take a moment to appreciate my sleeping pregnant wife. She’s fucking beautiful. Her hair is a mess of blonde tangles, and she is wrapped in every blanket on the bed. And there are a ton. All the pillows on our California king surround her, and she is hugging them like she used to me, until she told me I made her too damn hot.

“Fuck yes, I do,” I said, thinking I was going to get some finally. But then, as I was bending down to take her lips, she pushed me away and groaned.

“No, Jase. I feel like I’m in an oven. It’s so hot in here. Just … not tonight, okay?”

“No, baby, not okay,” I wanted to say, but she had just stopped throwing up at the sight of food, so I was trying my best to behave myself, even though my cock certainly wasn’t.

It’ll get better, big guy, I told the prince in my head so she didn’t get upset. And she does get upset … all the time. Fucking hormones.

Then a lightbulb went off in my head. I remembered the last time she had refused me. All I had to do was start rubbing her little feet, slowly working my way up, then back off completely. She had pushed her foot against my abs, her eyes narrowed, demanding little thing. She was begging for the prince.

“Baby, you just relax,” I had said, shaking my head.

She curled her toes, scratching my abs. “Jase,” she snarled.

I was telling her that was not what I was trying to do. I was trying to make my woman happy.

Yeah, I got laid. I could do that shit again.

Hell, I like rubbing her perfectly manicured little feet, moving my hands up her slender, firm calves. I love touching my wife, and she sure as hell loves when I touch her.

I was no longer apologizing to my cock. I had a plan, and it was fucking fool proof.

We got this, big guy. T minus five, and you’re gonna be inside the hottest, sweetest, littlest pussy in the fucking world.’ I thought, looking down at my half-chub.

Just then, the universe decided to fuck up my game, like the Cubs did to the Indians last night.

Kiki pushed open the door, tears streaming down her face, talking about ducks and bills and big white houses, still half-asleep.

I got up, ready to scoop our little sleep walking toddler, but Carly beat me to it.

She hugged her tightly then quickly ushered her out of our room, shushing and whispering something to calm her down.

I looked down at my dick and shook my head. “Sorry. Looks like it’ll be just you and me.”

By the time I got done with my shower and beating off … again, Carly was sound asleep in the little princess toddler bed with the little sleepwalker, and I was maybe just a little bit to happy I was going to get a damn pillow tonight.

I tiptoed my happy ass back into our room and slept in the middle of the bed. Then she came in half-asleep and took over the entire bed, covers and all.

I woke this morning hanging half-off the bed, cold, and maybe a little cranky.

Now I am standing here, looking at the woman who has turned my entire world upside-down, still wanting to fuck her just like I did the first time I saw her.

Sexy awkward, I laugh to myself.

I love my wife, forever will, but after the past few weeks, it’s a damn good thing her huge pregnant tits are hanging out of her nightgown, because she isn’t half as aggravating to me and the prince with tit hanging out. She’s fucking beautiful.

I walk over and bend down, kissing her cheek. Unable to stop myself, I give her nipple a quick lick, too.

Won’t be able to do that soon. My babies breastfeed … for-fucking-ever.

I go check on the little walker, then little Bell. I give them each a kiss then head down the stairs where I grab my briefcase off the counter, walk out into the garage, start up the Jag, hit the remote, and back out of the garage.

I turn the car around as I hit the garage door closed on the remote, hit another button to reset the security alarm, and start out the driveway.

When my lights hit what looks like a sign shoved in my front yard, I rub my eyes, thinking I’m seeing things.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl as I slam the car in park, get out, stomp across the yard, and yank that fucking sign out of it before tossing it into the ditch.

We agreed on no politics in the house. None. She wanted it that way, and I agreed with her.

Carly Steel, it’s on, baby.

It. Is. On.