All day long she'd been trying to distract herself with tasks. Cleaning the kitchen (remember his creativity with whipped cream that time?) or the bathroom (long, leisurely soaks in the double jacuzzi tub on the weekend), going to the market (the time she had tortured him by whispering the naughtiest things she could think of in his ear throughout the entire trip), even stopping at the coffee shop for a decaf cup (how many times had that been their afterplay?)--it all reminded her of him and of making love with him. She finally decided she'd indulge in a new bra, and maybe panties to match. For a millisecond she wondered if he would think that was less than sexy, considering her pregnancy, but decided he'd roll with it. He always had. She had figured that she could pretty much show up in anything and her husband would find her attractive, the same way she found him.
She had taken her time, torn between sensuality and practicality, and finally settled on a smooth champagne set. She wasn't a big fan of lace and remembered the day he had revealed how much he liked her underthings because they were less lacy than most women's. Despite the fact that it was a reminder he had been sexually active with many (many many?) women before they got together, she had been relieved and slightly pleased that his thoughts were along the same line as hers. The demi bra fit perfectly and she chose a high cut bikini to go with it. She knew he had a thing for thongs, but God, she couldn't stand them. And this purchase was as much for her as it was for him, she reasoned. Besides, he wasn't going to be walking around with cloth floss up his ass when all was said and done.
It had been a long day. She had texted him, letting him know what he was in for, and he had responded with a short "Can't wait". She hoped he meant it.
Maybe part of her sudden desire had to do with their first ultrasound--the pictures, the entire experience, had been nothing short of amazing--and when Dr. Anushki had assured them that everything was fine, she had felt liberated. Bobby had studied the photos carefully, had watched the film as though it were a case, until he could point out the heart, the head, and every identifiable body part without the tech's assistance. She knew he had taken the photos to work, to share with Eames and Deakins and anyone else who might want to know. His first reaction had been the same as hers. An intake of breath, a stare of amazement; then he had said, "beautiful" in the most reverent voice she'd ever heard him use. She had turned to him, then turned back to the tech, and asked if everything was okay. The tech had passed that on to the doctor, who had reassured them both that the little girl was fine.
A girl. She hadn't dared breathe it, didn't want to jinx her hopes, especially after everyone had been so certain she would have a boy. But they were having a daughter. Suddenly her fantasy of a little girl with dark brown curls and big brown eyes was a complete possibility. And she knew Bobby was thrilled. He hadn't even had to speak. It was all in his eyes.
She had spent a lot of time daydreaming in the last few days about him and their little girl. Maybe those daydreams were fueling her libido. She always found it incredibly heartwarming and sexy to see the way he interacted with children; he was sweet and loving and so, so gentle. LIke he understood them in a special, almost magical, way. It made her wonder what he was like as a child and wish she could have known him, known if he was as sweet and innocent and loving as she imagined he was.
She had changed into her new purchases and then covered herself with a satin robe he had bought for her at Christmas. She'd not had a robe since her rock star days, and was truly surprised when she opened it. He had grinned delightedly, almost wickedly, at her surprise, before suggesting she put it on. And please don't ruin it by putting it on OVER anything else, thankyouverymuch. She had no idea robes could be so...interesting...until Christmas.
She checked the clock. It was almost seven. She knew he'd be hungry when he got home, but she was hoping he'd understand and take care of her first. God knows she had been patient. She'd been counting the hours--almost twelve of them now--and it was torturous waiting for him. She was about to text him again when she heard the key in the lock. She stood up nervously from the couch. What the hell was that about--why was she nervous with her husband, for God's sake? By the time she realized it was because this wasn't her usual approach, he was standing in the room a few feet away from her.
"Well...it looks like you've had a long day," he teased, eyes wandering up and down her.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." She stepped closer to him. "I have a surprise for you...but you have to unwrap it." She held out the edge of the tie of the robe, and he took it carefully in his hands, then tugged the thin material so it fell open.
A second later he emitted a low whistle. "Pregnancy suits you," he told her, "almost as well as that bra."
He continued to look shamelessly, taking his time. "It's been a long day for me too," he said offhandedly. "I got this text around ten this morning telling me I was going to have my mind blown tonight, along with a few other things..." He shook his head. "Hard to concentrate after that."
'I guess so," she commented. "That wasn't very thoughtful of someone to text you something so...explicit...especially so early in the morning."
He exhaled heavily, eyes focused on her body. "You have no idea."
"Trust me." She slipped the robe off, tossing it to the chair. "If anyone has an idea, it's me."
His eyes finally ran up to her face, meeting her own, and he smiled. "When do I get to take something off?"
"Right now," she assured him, leaning in to quickly undo his tie, and feeling his hands wander over her ass, let her mind wander into all the places she'd been resisting all day.
"Hey...Ness--" he was panting, as desperate as she was, but nervous. "Slow down...we'll get there...think of the baby."
She was moving on top of him quickly, fiercely. God, the wait had been worth it. It always was. He read her like a book; he never disappointed. He was beautiful and strong and pleased to let her lead, especially tonight. But she knew he worried. She wished he wouldn't. "Trust me," she gasped back, "it's all fine...she's fine...I'm really fine...you're super fine, and I do mean that, Goren...God I mean that right now..."
His hands were moving up and down her body, lingering on her breasts. So beautiful. He couldn't help but focus on them, want them, pull her body down to kiss and suck and nibble on her nipples. He heard a low moan escape her throat as she continued to rock rhythmically against his thrusts.
He debated, briefly, about flipping her over. Under his weight, there was no way she could writhe so quickly on him, so firmly. He could drive. But she had already come twice, and he was hesitant to mess with whatever this was, working for her. Her last orgasm had happened just after he had let her be on top. Every glimpse of her face reminded him of her complete thrill, how good she felt, and she was beautifully sexy.
They had always enjoyed an intimate and pleasurable sex life. Even from their first time, when he took his time and let her lead, it had been incredible. A mix of love and affection and intense pleasure. He'd never had that mix before. But this was different, even for her. He was used to her sudden swings in desire--he had them too, and she was more than accommodating most of the time--but three orgasms? In ten minutes? Was there something in the water?
That moan, that continually soft moan in the back of her throat, he knew she'd been serious about wanting it all day. Enough to actually go to the lingerie store and buy that getup. She was lovely in it, and he had enjoyed it, but truthfully he would have enjoyed it just as much if she had been buck naked. It all came off anyway, and within the first five minutes.
She had pulled her breasts away from him and was now reaching above him, holding the headboard with both hands. Her face was flushed, eyes closed, head back, as she moved quickly and beautifully over him. God he was hard. His hands caught her hips, trying to slow her down, to drag out the inevitable, but she would have none of it. Her eyes flew open and she leaned her face down toward his. "Bobby," she hissed, "don't stop it...please...God, I need it."
So he didn't. He gave up and joined her, his thrusts hard and quick inside her. He closed his own eyes, feeling the tightening in his belly, his groin, wanting to, needing to...his hands clutched her as he drove upward and it overtook him, the heat and the pleasure and the shuddering contractions. "Beth." It was raspy and needy and all hers.
She moved quicker than before, and somewhere in the back of his consciousness he knew she was climaxing again, and he felt even sexier knowing she had come again, with him, so quickly.
She was lying on top of him, completely spent. Finally satisfied. This was so not her, begging for it and demanding it like this, pushing him to be faster and harder and acting so dominant. She couldn't believe she came three times. The first had happened as soon as he entered her; she had cried out loudly, startling them both, and he had asked if she was all right. "Oh God," she had told him, "I'm the best I've been in a long time...God, whatever you do, please don't stop, Bobby. God." And she had ground her hips firmly against him, fully enjoying the thrill of her climax as he had begun to move slowly inside her and suckle on her neck.
His eyes were closed now, one hand resting on her lower back. She could hear his breathing starting to slow and become more steady. She wondered if he had enjoyed it as much as she had or if he had just been satisfying her.
"Was it okay?" she asked softly, and she felt his hand wander up her back to her hair.
"Amazing." His mouth curled into a knowing smile. "Pretty good for you too, huh?"
She was embarrassed. She knew he knew, and during, it hadn't seemed a big deal. But now she felt like some sort of sex addict.
As if on cue, he caught her face in his hand. "I'm so glad it felt good...so glad you feel better now...you deserve it." His finger lingered over her lips for just a moment. '"I don't think there's anything more beautiful in the world than watching you come."
Her face buried into his chest. "Thanks," he heard, muffled. "You're the best."
He smiled to himself, tracing random designs over her bare back. "Anything I can do to help," he teased, then wrapped his other arm around her, enveloping her in a hug. "Really, anything."
"Okay, so hold still...I've almost got it..." Bobby was aiming the camera at her belly, and she was trying desperately not to roll her eyes. He had read in some book about documenting the growth of the uterus every week and thought it would be a really great addition to the baby's scrapbook. She, however, was less than thrilled to have her bare belly photographed weekly over the next six months. He took three shots with the digital before saying, "Do you think we should try the recorder...just a couple minutes each month...it might make for an interesting video..."
"Uh, no." She lowered her shirt, unsure as to whether she or the baby would be more mortified by his project in years to come. "You do realize that looking at my naked belly, scars and all, is absolutely horrific to me?"
He looked up from the camera, surprised. "Um...you-you look really beautiful, you know, in these--" He brought the camera to her and handed it over. "Look."
Unconvinced, she peered at the image on the screen. Yep. Her with her shirt up. Slightly mounded belly. That was them, all right. And you could still see her scars. Damn.
"So what are you going to tell her when she asks why I have huge scars on my stomach?" She hadn't intended to ask the question, but she really hated this project, and maybe it would deter him a little bit.
"Well," he said, then cleared his throat. Obviously this conversation was making him nervous. "I guess, I guess I figured she would have asked long before she saw this in the book...I don't know...we've never talked about it but I just figured it wouldn't be a secret--"
She felt the tears coming to her eyes. "What? That some psychopath attacked me?"
"No!" He shook his head. "Ness, come on, you have to know that's not what I meant...I guess I just always thought that she would have seen them all her life so it wouldn't be a big deal...when she asks, I guess...I think it should be up to you...I guess I would just tell her that somebody hurt you, but they're gone now and can't hurt you any more."
That was much more logical than she cared to believe him to be. She roughly wiped away her tears. "Oh."
He grabbed a tissue and led her to the couch. "Hey...here." Carefully, delicately, he wiped the tears from her face. She opened her eyes when he finished, and he was smiling at her. "Hi there," he said.
"It's okay, you know...it's all going to be okay."
"We have no idea what we're doing." She felt the tears coming back.
"I know. But we're figuring it out." He carefully wiped another tear from her cheek. "You know how I'm sure you'll be a great mom?"
She sniffed. "How?"
"Because I know you want to be...more than anything. And I've seen you with kids...you're great. And you love this baby, and you read almost as much as I do." At her look of surprise, he said, "I can tell when you've been looking at my books...I don't have to be here all the time to know that."
"What if I screw this up? What if I end up being like my dad? I'm his kid too. I have so many issues that I'm reduced to tears just by the thought of her asking about the scars on my abdomen."
"You're not being fair to yourself. Those scars represent one of the most traumatic things a person could experience...it's only normal that you would have tremendous anxiety about how to tell your daughter about them." He shook his head. "We'll have lots of things to figure out...how to explain all of our families, our jobs, ourselves...but we're smart and we want to do the right thing and I think we'll figure it out, baby."
She sighed. "You have a lot of faith in us."
"So do you. You've stayed. For nearly three years."
She smiled softly. "I can't imagine my life any other way. You're the only one who's ever understood me...you're my best friend." She took his hand in hers and pressed it against her belly. "Baby makes three, I guess."
His hand ran over her slowly. "Sometimes I wonder about her...what she's feeling, what she's doing...do you ever wonder?"
She laughed. "Maybe a little...but probably not like you."
He lay his head on her shoulder. "Yeah, I'm weird that way, I guess."
"No, not weird...just thoughtful."
"I can't wait until she starts to move."
"Me either." She leaned her own head against his, resting quietly. Sometimes the companionable silence they shared was as wonderful as anything else.