Spiralling Skywards: Fading (Contradictions, #2)(22)

She must have sensed me standing there, because she opened her eyes and looked up. The smile that lit up her face still had the ability to bring me to my knees, especially when that one dimple appeared.

“You’re home early.”

“It’s almost nine thirty, I wouldn’t call that early.”

She sat up slowly, which I knew took her more effort than she would ever admit. “It’s early for you. I love it when your home before I go to sleep.”

I couldn’t move. Her words almost floored me. Something most other couples took for granted, she considered a treat, a rarity. It was Thursday, and I hadn’t eaten dinner with her once this week. Nine thirty was the earliest I had been home. My fucking heart broke for her right then. I promised her I’d do better, but I was still working long hours and now I was gonna have to fly up to Scotland for a day and leave her again.

I made the decision right then that as soon as I was back, we were taking on more staff. The only reason that we hadn’t was because we’d been too busy to set aside time for interviews. I would make time. As much as I wanted the business to succeed, I knew that I needed to be home more. I needed to be a better husband.

Very soon, I would need to be the best Dad.

“Did you eat?” She started to climb out of bed.

“Don’t get up. I’ll shower and come join you.”

She paused and looked a little hurt. I hated the disappointment that flashed across her face, but I still couldn’t move from my spot by the door.

“I was coming to give you a kiss.”

I watched her as she stood slowly. She was fucking sick. She was sick because she was carrying my baby, and I just stood there and watched her struggle to her feet because I felt so ashamed of the fact that I just left her here all day and most of the night . . . alone.

“Sarah, I’m so fucking sorry, pretty girl.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “W-why? What did you do?” She looked as if she were about to cry, and it was that small tremble of her bottom lip that put me in motion. In four long strides, I was in front of her, pulling her into my arms. I pulled her down onto the bed with me and tucked her against my body so I could breathe in her scent. Her shampoo, face cream, and shower gel all combined to produce a scent that was uniquely Sarah, my wife, my life, my heart.

“I feel like all I do is apologise to you for being late or for not being here at all.”

I didn’t want to make this about sex, but even with her sick and dressed in her unicorn-and-rainbow patterned flannel pyjamas, I was getting hard.

She remained silent, and I didn’t blame her. I didn’t apologies for her to tell me that it was okay for me to continuously work sixteen, eighteen, or sometimes twenty hours a day, because it wasn’t.

“This isn’t the way I planned on starting our marriage.”

“With me getting pregnant so soon?”

I adjusted her in my lap so that I could see her face. “What? No. Fuck no. I’d have had you pregnant that very first night if you’d given me the chance, before we were ever married.”

She smiled at me, and a flush of colour spread from her neck to her cheeks.

“I wish I’d have been brave enough to let ya.”

“Fuck, you’re making me hard. You had those fucking stockings on. I’ll never forget that, or that when I reached around to touch your arse, I realised it was bare skin I was touching and you were wearing a thong.”

She sucked her lips between her teeth and stared at me wide eyed, finally looking healthy because of the way I was making her blush. I leaned down and said against her ear, “I really wanna slide inside you right now, but I don’t wanna make you feel worse than you already do.”

She moved so that she was straddling me and looked me dead in the eyes. “If you don’t fuck me right now, you’ll make me feel a whole lot worse than I do already.”

I didn’t need any more encouragement than that.

“Help me get this off.”

I undid the top few buttons of my shirt before Sarah pulled it over my head. I unbuttoned her pyjama top and pushed it back off her shoulders.

My wife had always had a fantastic rack, but fuck me. Since she got pregnant, it had gotten . . .

“These, fuck, Sarah. Perfect. So fucking perfect.” I pushed her tits together and moved my mouth from one nipple to the other while she fumbled with my belt, my button, and then the zip on my suit pants.

Her hand was inside my jocks and pulling out my dick as she ground herself against me, searching for something I was all too ready to give her.

Her back arched, forcing her tits into my mouth as she griped me in her hand and stroked me. The harder I sucked and bit, the faster she stroked.

“What d’ya want, pretty girl? Tell me and it’s yours. Whatever you want, I’ll give ya.” She moaned, and her back arched a bit further. “Words, Sarah. Use your words and tell me what you want,” I said, sliding my hand inside her pyjama bottoms.

“You.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. God. Fuck yeah.”

My thumb found her clit, and I pressed down as I kissed, sucked, bit, and licked up and down her exposed throat.

With my free hand, I pulled her bottoms down over her arse and helped her out of them one leg at a time. When they were finally free, I slid my middle finger through her wet pussy and pushed it deep inside her.