Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2)(49)

Smirk.

"Isn't there some guy version you should be reading?"

"I don't know." He sets the iPad down on his nightstand and turns toward me, placing his hand over mine where it's resting on my stomach. "I wanted to get the same information you were getting."

"You're probably ahead of me, you overachieving nerd."

"I'm on chapter nine."

"Nine! Ugh. I'm still on seven. Why do you even need to know all this stuff? All you have to do is drop me off at the hospital and I'll call you when we're ready."

He turns on his side, one hand still over mine on my stomach, the other propping up his head. "You're expecting that I'm going to drop you off at the hospital and come back when you're done giving birth? Are you out of your mind?"

"Ugh, I don't know." I flop onto the pillows. "It's just going to be endless hours of waiting between me sweating and pushing and grunting. I don't want anyone to see me like that."

"You let me see you sweating and squeezing and grunting all the time." He smiles when he says it, his eyes darkening and the hand on my belly sliding a fraction lower.

"Oh, my God." He did not just say that. I cover my eyes with my hands.

"Daisy, you cannot possibly expect me to pace around in the waiting room like a 1950s episode of I Love Lucy while you give birth to my son or daughter."

"You were the one who suggested this 1950s arranged marriage. Or whatever it is that we're doing," I add, because he's silent.

"Yeah," he finally says, but he's reaching under the giant T-shirt (his) that I'm wearing to bed and slides my panties down my thighs, so I guess we're done talking, which is fine because oh, my God, he's replaced my panties with his tongue. He's lying between my thighs, looking up at me over my swollen stomach and making direct eye contact while he spreads me with his thumbs and sucks my clit between his lips. Holy Jesus.

"You know what else was popular in the 1950s, Daisy?"

The drive-in? Hula hoops? Cunnilingus? Oh, God, he's just bent my knee and spread my legs wider. "What?" I ask, barely getting the word out.

"Twin beds," he says with a delicious little grin.

"Terrible idea," I eke out. "I bet those poor women never got a spontaneous tongue on their lady bits."

"Hmm, probably not. Take off the shirt."

"Why am I always the one who's naked?"

"Because I like looking at you. Now hush and let me work."

"I admire your work ethic. I've been meaning to mention it."

"Hmm-hmm," he murmurs. But it's muffled because he's otherwise engaged with his lips. The thing about Kyle is, he's really comfortable doing this. Really... really... comfortable. I gasp and clutch the sheets with my hands when he adds a finger. He rims me with it, around and around. Teasing. Tormenting. Playing.

His other hand slides up my stomach. Slowly, he touches me like there's no rush and it's his damn job to pleasure me. Fingers spread across my skin until he reaches my breast and squeezes. I'm shaking, it feels so good. My chest is heaving even though I'm not doing anything but taking. Experiencing. Enjoying.

His hands are in constant movement. Smoothing, stroking, teasing wherever he can reach. His mouth is in constant motion too. Licking, sucking, nipping until I'm on the edge. I know he won't stop until I'm there, he will camp out between my legs until it happens and honestly it's so freeing, not worrying about it. Not feeling pressured to orgasm before he gets bored or his jaw starts to hurt. So I relax and enjoy the build-up. I'm wet and slick and Kyle is loudly enthusiastic and even knowing how into it he is, I blush a little when I can hear how wet I am.

And then I'm there... right there. "Oh, God." My back arches and I'd worry about suffocating him but I'm shaking and it's too much and I want to wiggle away but Kyle hooks my thigh over his arm so I'm immobile and forces me to ride the high for what feels like forever and oh, my God. "Kyle," I breathe his name on an exhale. "KyleKyleKyle." I love you, I think to myself. "I liked that," is what I say out loud. "So much." I'm blinded by my orgasm, now's not really the time to declare anything, right? Not when his lips are still wet with me and he's climbing up the bed to lie beside me. Good oral can make a woman lose all rational thought, until she's blurting out things she can't take back.

Except I've never been as comfortable with anyone in my entire life doing that to me as I am with Kyle. I'm not saying I never enjoyed it previously, let's not be crazy. But there's something in the dynamic between us that's different. Easier. Better.

I'm so screwed. I'm in love with my husband.

"Be naked with me." I tug at the soft knit pajama bottoms he wears to bed, trying to get them over his hips even though my arms aren't long enough to do the job myself. I get them far enough to free his dick and then grasp it, eager to get my hands on him. I know I just came but already I want more. I want to feel the long hard length of him inside of me. I ache for it, my body eager and wanting. Empty and needy. Good Lord, this pregnancy really has turned me into a little nympho. I've read far enough in the pregnancy books to know it's normal, albeit somewhat lucky because I could have just as easily had a miserable pregnancy filled with nausea. But I feel great. Hornier than I've ever felt in my life, but great. "I like looking too, you know."