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“It’s not penance. You love it,” I said, a sly smile playing on my lips.
“But not this much. I need a rest,” he pleaded, his eyes weary but still filled with desire.
“I think you can give me one more,” I whispered, squeezing my walls around him, feeling his penis twitch inside me. I smiled triumphantly as Oliver shook his head.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he protested weakly.
“If I move, it will. You’ll be hard in no time,” I taunted, a grin spreading across my face.
“Please, sweetheart, give me a break,” he said, his voice almost a whimper.
“I love when you beg,” I said, my grin widening.
“I’m not begging, I’m pleading. I promise to give you more later,” he said, his eyes earnest.
I reluctantly slid off him, moving next to him and placing my head on his chest. He stroked my face gently, his strong arms holding me close.
“I have something for you,” he murmured.
“A gift? For what?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
“Just humor me,” he said, leaning over to open the drawer of his nightstand and pulling out a black velvet box.
“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing the box suspiciously.
“Open it and stop being difficult,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“It’s part of my nature, and more than likely, your son will be the same way because he’s part of me,” I quipped, making him groan.
“Just what I need, two smartasses,” he muttered.
I popped open the box and gasped. Inside were a pair of large sapphire stud earrings, the same deep blue as my husband's eyes.
Tears blurred my vision. “These are gorgeous.”
Oliver rubbed his hands over my thighs. “They pale in comparison to you. I just wanted to give you something to commemorate this day.”
“It was unnecessary.”
"Not to me," Oliver said softly, his eyes shining with emotion. He reached out and gently caressed my swollen belly. "In a few months, you'll be giving me the greatest gift anyone could give."
I couldn't help but smile, though I countered. "You might not say that when he goes through his terrible twos."
Oliver shook his head, his voice firm with conviction. "I'll always say it. You're having my son."
Sensing a shift in the conversation, I asked, "Want to talk about names?"
He leaned back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I decided whatever you want, but I get to give the middle name."
"I guess I could compromise," I conceded, rubbing my belly absently.
"Any ideas?" Oliver prompted, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.
I bit my lip, considering. "How about Logan or Ethan?"
Oliver's nose wrinkled slightly. "Not impressed."
I smacked his arm, feigning indignation. "They're better than the ones you picked out. Why don't we just name him King or Prince?"
