Baby Come Back(50)
“I love you, Tristan. I love every part of you.”
“Oh Gina,” he rasped, his voice was now thick with emotion, “I love you, baby. You are my life.”
Our momentum increased as we devoured each other with our mouths. We had both reached the brink of orgasm; Tristan lowered his lips and gently spread soft kisses over the column of my neck. It was the push I needed to send me spiraling over the edge into my orgasmic bliss. Tristan was right there with me, riding the tide of climatic ecstasy.
He moaned in glorious passion; I mewled like a contented cat as my climax enveloped me in total and unadulterated pleasure. I felt Tristan’s cock throbbing and emptying his seed fully inside of me.
Afterwards, our sweat soaked bodies clung to one another as our heart rates and breathing returned to normal. Tristan pulled me over to him so that my head was resting on his chest, right near his heart.
I had always loved the aftermath of our f*cking, or as we had most recently been referring to it as, ‘our lovemaking.’ I could see that Tristan and I had morphed into this traditional, loving couple. I had no problem with that at all. I liked it. I liked the softness that had blossomed in me as a result of Tristan’s love for me, and my love for Tristan. His attentiveness to me had given me a feeling of safeness and security. I would never be the ‘helpless’ female, but then again, Tristan would not have tolerated being with a helpless female type.
I ran my fingers over my fiancé’s damp chest hair, loving the smell of our sex that still permeated the air.
“What are you thinking, Gina?”
“I’m just reveling in the afterglow, I guess,” I laughed.
“I do love you so much, Gina. Last week when all of that happened, I came close to killing that son-of-a-bitch. I mean, that was the first time ever in my life I actually believe that I could have taken a human life.”
“What stopped you?”
“What do you think, Gina? It was you. It was what you said about me going to prison. It was a no brainer. It made sense when you said that to me. As much as I wanted to kill that sick son-of-a-bitch, I knew that I would be the one paying the price if he was dead. That price would have been you, who I adore; it would have been Reese, who I adore; and it would have been Sarah and Hannah.”
“Who in the hell are Sarah and Hannah?” I asked, raising myself up to look into his eyes.
He smiled, his beautiful green eyes deeper now, post-orgasm. I loved the little crinkles he got in the corner of his eyes when he smiled or laugh. I referred to them as his laugh lines. They were gorgeous.
“Sarah and Hannah, you know.”
He obviously was playing with me because I had no clue; my face clearly revealed to him that I was clueless.
“Our daughters that haven’t been conceived yet,” he said, his thumb brushing my cheek gently. “I want as many children as you are willing to carry,” he said, kissing me again. “You are my present and future.”
“Why girls?” I asked
“Don’t get me wrong, Gina, I am so glad that our first born was a boy. We need for our girls to have an older brother that will watch out for them. I just love those names for girls and want to make sure that we have at least two in order to use them. After that we can have as many boys as you want.”
“My God, Tristan, I’m 31 years old.”
“That’s young, babe. I’m going to be 43 in October. Still, I feel we’re good for at least three more babies.”
“Whatever you say, Tristan,” I laughed. “I know that I am going to love making them.”
We kissed again, long and patiently. We then fell into a peaceful and satisfied sleep, wrapped around each other.
Epilogue
Bristol, VA
2 years, 6 Weeks Later.
Tristan came in through the back door, letting the screen door slam loudly when he did. Reese came running in from the playroom, squealing with delight at seeing his daddy. Tristan scooped him up, tickling his tummy, which brought squeals of delight from his son.
“Shhh, Tristan, can you take it all down a notch, please? I just got the babies down for a nap.”
“Sorry, babe,” he said, coming over and giving me a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, I talked to Mom earlier and she said she would love to come over this evening and watch all the kids so that you and I can go out for dinner. She thinks we need some ‘alone’ time.”
“She does, huh? How coincidental that our need for ‘alone’ time just happens to fall on the six week mark since giving birth to the twins.”
“Hey,” he said, chuckling, “That’s on her. I haven’t said a thing, babe.”
“You may tell Susan that we will take her up on her offer. I am anxious to spend some ‘alone’ time with my husband. Is your dad coming to help her? I think watching the three of them may be a little much for her.”
“I’m sure Dad wouldn’t miss it,” he laughed, “You know how much he loves changing those soiled ‘nappies’.” Tristan imitated Clive’s British accent when he said that. It was amusing to hear some of Clive’s terminology for stuff. ‘Diaper’ was ‘nappy’; ‘shitty diaper’ was ‘pooey nappy’ in British lingo.
Reese was now holding his arms out to me. He had a little bit of the ‘green-eyed’ monster thing going since the birth of Hannah and Sarah. Not that his own eyes weren’t already incredibly green like his daddy’s.