The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(109)
“Yes.”
“But I just lost a little of the baby weight! I can’t do that again so soon!”
“Baby,” he says, letting the power tool off his back and pulling me to him.
“No, no!” I say, backing away from him as he comes toward me, his smile beaming.
“Yes. Yes!”
“Troy,” I push at his chest, furious with myself, furious with him. No matter what we do, what measures we take, we can’t seem to stop procreating. “Wait…” I look up and nod. “I just had my period.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I’m not pregnant,” I say defiantly. “So, you can wipe that damned smile off your face!”
He tugs at my ankles, drawing me to the end of the bed and climbs on top of me, pinning my wrists next to my face. All I see in his eyes is love and awe. “Merry Christmas to me. I fucking love you so much.”
“Troy,” I whine weakly as he kisses me from head to toe, the smile never leaving his eyes. “It’s too soon.”
“It’s not.”
“I’m like a Gremlin, one drop of your sperm, and I multiply, babies flying out everywhere.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.
“How, with another baby? I just had another baby three months ago!”
“And she’s a perfect little temperamental redhead, just like her mother.” He leans in, eyes sparkling, and kisses me deeply, his tongue making it impossible to protest, my body sighing in welcome as I open for him. It’s useless, I’m entirely defenseless against my husband’s charms and super penis.
Utterly soaked and ready, he watches my reaction as he presses into me.
I moan when he hits my spot, the length of his cock setting me off as he rolls his hips and hits me, there, again and again until I throw my head back convulsing, praising his name. It’s sheer bliss, ecstasy, and he delivers every single time.
Every. Single. Time.
“I love you,” I say, sinking into his rhythm as I wrap around him, and he sinks in deeper, in our perfect fit. He takes his time, setting me off repeatedly before he picks up the pace. Hearts pounding, I trace the planes of his chest, his arms, meeting his hips with the buck of mine, watching his eyes flare. His jaw goes slack before he pours himself into me. It’s when he’s resting on my chest that I murmur words that I know to be true.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I say softly, stroking the damp hair on his forehead. “You once told me you thought you were the worst, but it’s simply not true. I’ll take any baby you give me, Troy Jenner, because of the man you are.”
I caress his biceps while he searches my face.
“I mean it. You are the best man I’ve ever known.”
Voice clogged with emotion, his eyes shine. “Only because you made me this way. You made damned sure I deserved you.”
“Thank you for not giving up.”
“Never, Mrs. Jenner.”
One hour later…
I lightly rake my nails down my husband’s chest as he sleeps next to me flipping another page on my kindle. The house is completely silent as snow falls outside our bedroom window. Troy has gifted us a house I could only dream of, and every single day, I’m thankful for the chance we took on each other. For his persistence in winning me, for the faith he kept for the both of us. No longer a struggling single mother but a wife, a professor, a realtor and part of a bigger picture I never saw for myself. Mostly due to the belief and unrelenting love of the man sleeping next to me. Feeling sentimental in remembrance of our first white Christmas, I close my book and stare down at Troy. Just as I’m reaching for the light to settle in and cuddle up with my better half, Troy jackknives in the bed, scaring the hell out of me. I jump back as his head turns my way, Exorcist-style, while ice-blue flames shoot from his eyes.
“You saw me assed out that day and didn’t say a word.”
GrandGirl#08 Reviewer Ranking 1,015
Metropolis-Fur Shag Rug-Shag Away!
Here I am on Christmas Eve, listening to my best friend and her god-shaped husband bang it out a few doors down, and I’m not bitter. Not at all. In fact, I’m happy for them, because no doubt I’m going to get another niece or nephew to spoil because birth control for them is pointless. But that’s not why I’m no longer bitter. You see, I’ve finally met someone, and while he’s not the sophisticated millionaire with a British accent and mile-long dong I always hoped for, he’s perfect for me. He’s a simple working man, an Uber driver, and the greatest guy a girl could ask for. He sees past the superficial; is kind, intelligent, considerate, well-spoken, and surprisingly an animal in the sack—or shall I say rug—which is why I’m writing this review. I have to say, this rug served its purpose, and despite the mild burn, I’ve ordered two more because one can never be sure when and where the mood will strike. I hate to say it, guys, but those looking for my reviews might be hard-pressed to find them in the future, because my schedule is looking pretty busy. It’s all thanks to a flat tire and the owner of the chariot that saved this damsel from another year of lonely rants. Merry Christmas, internet void. Here’s hoping you find your own Dave.