Never Giving Up (Never #3)(9)
“More,” she cried out. That was all I needed to lose myself in her. One of my hands found her shoulder, pulling her back onto me while the other sought out her clit, helping her feel as good as I did. My head rested on her back as I felt her come again, the tightening around me signaling she’d found her release. “I want you to come inside of me,” she said breathily, spurring me on, bringing me closer. I continued to pump into her, holding off as long as I could, relishing in the feeling of her tight, wet heat enveloping me. Eventually it was too much and I found my release, groaning as I came, needing to brace myself with a hand on the mattress as my orgasm rocketed through me.
After a moment she fell forward, relaxing on the bed, and I shivered as my cock pulled out of her. I flopped onto the bed next to her, trying to reign in my breathing, waiting for my brain to turn back on. Eventually she turned over to look at me, a smile shimmering over her face, lighting up the dim room.
“We’re good at making babies,” she said coyly. I had to smile at her, still a little out of breath. Usually, under previous circumstances, she would have gotten out of bed and gone to clean up, but lately she’d been staying in bed after we made love, obviously the protocol altered by trying to get pregnant. I couldn’t lie; the thought of her spending the whole night with my cum inside of her was a huge turn on. There’ve been a few times when we had a quickie in the morning and she left the house for the day with me inside of her, smelling of me, and my reaction was primitive. Positively primal. She was mine and I marked her to prove it. I laughed at myself. I knew I was having caveman thoughts, liking the idea of my seed inside of her, but I would challenge any man in love to argue with me. Having her full of me was an intensely gratifying feeling.
“I’ll add it to my resume. Hopefully it works, but I love perfecting our technique.” I made it out of bed, bringing her a glass of water.
“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip. I put the water on her nightstand and then flipped off the lights and climbed into bed, bringing her close to me, twining our fingers together.
“Do you want a boy or a girl first?” She whispered. I rubbed my thumb along the palm of her hand. We had this discussion before, but I loved talking about our future child with her, so I answered.
“I don’t care as long as it’s healthy, but I think deep down I’d like a boy.” Ella brought my hand to her mouth and kissed it softly right over my knuckles.
“Your father would be very proud of you, Porter.” Of course she’d hear what I hadn’t said. I longed for a son in a way that defied logic to me. I would love a daughter. I would spoil her and protect her and provide for her, but my soul needed a son. I wanted to feel that connection a father had with his boy.
“He would have loved you,” I whispered into her hair.
“I know,” she said sleepily, making me smile.
“I love you,” I said against her ear.
“Mmm. I love you too.”
It has been five weeks since my last period. That morning, after Porter left, I readied myself for work and was surprised to find myself leaning over the toilet when brushing my teeth triggered some weird gag reflex. I heaved my breakfast into the toilet and then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, smiling as I pressed my other hand against my belly. I had never been so excited to throw up in my life.
Porter and I both knew that I was late—he watched the calendar even more carefully than I did. But neither of us had mentioned it. I assumed his reasoning was the same as mine; we didn’t want to jinx it. But the barfing clenched it for me. Morning sickness? Yes. I had to be pregnant. I could feel the straining in my cheeks from the biggest smile I’d ever worn, only to be out done, I imagined, by the smile I would wear watching Porter come to the realization he was going to be a father.
I got up and nearly ran to my phone, dialing Megan’s number as quickly as I could.
“Hey, Fella,” she said cheerily as she answered her phone.
“Megs, do you have any free time today? Can you come to Salem?”
“I think so. I’ve got all three girls in Poppy today so getting away shouldn’t be a big deal. What do you need?”
“It’s not work related. I need a sister favor today.”
“Oh! Well then I can definitely fit you in. What’s up?” Her voice was still calm, but she sounded concerned.
“I just need you to come to Dahlia, but I need you to bring me something.”
“Ok . . . you’re being cryptic.”
“Can you bring a pregnancy test with you?”
“Are you serious?”
“Serious as a pregnancy test.”
“Holy shit, Ella.”
“Holy shit is right. Will you come see me? I could use a little sisterly support.”
“Um, yeah. Just let me call Brittany and let her know I won’t be in this morning. Oh my God, Ella. You think you’re pregnant?” She sounded wistful and far away, like she was lost in her own mind. I felt the stinging and prickling of tears coming on but I didn’t want to cry so I stood up and moved into the bathroom, turning on the shower.
“Yeah, I think I am,” was all I could manage without losing my composure.
“Ok, I’ll be at Dahlia in about two hours, with a pregnancy test. No big deal. I’ll just walk in with a brown paper sack that will change your life forever. No pressure.”