Sweet Little Thing(22)

“I just thought you would like them.” She shrugged. “You can ditch them if you want.”

See, this is why I married this girl. The beauty of Mia’s early ’90s throwback dress was that I was able to very easily slide her panties down.

She patted the seat on her left. I moved and undid my fly faster than John Holmes. She reached in, took a hold of me, and started stroking.

“Mmm. You are my naughty little wife now.”

She leaned in and whispered near my ear, her breath hot and minty. “I just want to f*ck my husband, that’s all. Can I do that now?”

Oh. My. God.

“Uh huh, sure. By all means, please do not let me slow this show down for one more minute.”

She climbed onto my lap, and then a moment later, I was buried inside her. She moved slowly and sensually at first. I reached over and turned the volume up on the stereo. “Ball and Biscuit” by the White Stripes was playing.

“Did you plan this?”

She began moving faster on top of me, panting hard and whimpering. “Yes.” She breathed loudly.

I braced the back of her neck and kissed her hard. “You’re so f*cking rad.”

“Everything is rad.” She cried as she tried to steady her breath. I felt it coming. I heard it coming, that part in the song, about a minute forty-five into it, which just happened to coincide perfectly with what we were feeling, the building up, the sensation of reaching that peak. Right when the guitar shredding started, I flipped Mia over on her back, across the seat. She instantly placed her heels on my shoulders. I reached down and forced the front of her thighs toward me so that I was in as far as I could go, and then with my thumb I pressed down into her and began making circles in her flesh while I drove harder and harder. She was bucking against me; her eyes were closed, her mouth open, her back arched and her neck strained. The back of her head was completely pressed hard into the seat. She was bracing herself on the door behind her.

I slowed.

“Go,” she yelled. “Go,” she cried. “Fuck me.”

Oh my God, I get to do this all the time. I picked up my pace and then something else took over. God, if I could have crawled up inside her, I would have. The warmth I felt around my dick was flooding my entire body. Her dress was bunched under her and up around her head, but she couldn’t care less. My sweet, piano-playing Mia, all sex-crazed and unashamed. Her mouth was open as far as it could go, but no sound was coming out. I watched her in wonder; all I could hear was the screeching of the electric guitar and then finally when I did hear her, it was unintelligible sounds of rapture. I was feeling some sort of delirium when it was all over with. I was as motionless as could be, on my knees, still holding her legs around me. She opened her eyes. She looked ravished, pink from the cheeks down.

“I love you,” she said, looking right in my eyes.

I leaned over her and kissed her sweet mouth. “Let’s never leave this limo. Let’s just wither up and die here. I’ll starve to death in this limo with a goddamn smile on my face.” I nipped at her lip and then her neck. “You are a sexy little thing, by God.”

She giggled and then something occurred to me. I can’t actually say that it occurred to me, it was more like it shot me point-blank with a freakin’ bazooka. It was the image of my tiny baby cocooned inside a balloon of amniotic fluid, right there in the spot that I was so cheerfully jabbing my dick into. I suddenly felt light-headed. I began to sway as I hovered over Mia.

“What’s wrong?” She was squinting at me and repeating the question. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Will?”

Her voice became frantic, but I was unable to find my own. She pushed me back against the seat and leaned over me, searching my eyes. She put her hand to my cheek.

I braced her hips with my hands and looked down at her belly. Finally my voice cracked and I said, “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay.” She took a deep breath. “What just happened to you?”

“How can that not have hurt the baby?”

She stared into my eyes for several moments. Her demeanor changed. I could see anger boiling behind her big hazel eyes. “Jesus, Will, your neurosis is getting really out of control. It’s going to start affecting your health; you have to calm down. You need to get your anxiety in check. Whatever you need to do to stop this constant catastrophizing, you should do it.”

“Thanks, wife,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry. I just thought you were having a heart attack. I mean, you turned gray on me. I thought I had killed you with sex.”

“Now who’s catastrophizing?”

“I don’t want to fight on our wedding day.” She pressed a button, lowering the privacy screen, and then asked the driver to head to our loft.

I spoke to her in a low, defeated voice. “It just seems weird that it wouldn’t hurt the baby.”

She took my hand and finally her expression turned sympathetic. “The baby is tucked away in there and very safe. Your dick, although very big, honey, is nowhere close to reaching the baby.” She was protecting my ego. “This is natural. You asked me to be open and honest with you, so I will. I thought once I became pregnant that the idea of sex would sound revolting, but it’s actually the opposite. I’m super horny.” She whispered the last part.