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“I’m serious,” I tell her, my brows dipping. “You could tell me to cut her off for good, and I’d do it, Leila. Nothing means more to me than you do. You’ve been my family for a hell of a lot longer than she ever was.”
Leila’s beautiful eyes soften. “I’d never tell you to do that.”
“I know,” I say with a smile as I kiss her pretty, pink lips. “And that’s why I love you, gorgeous.” I waste no time, wrapping my arm around her waist and gently flip us over so she’s lying on the bed and I’m crowding her, spreading her legs with my thighs.
Her breathing speeds up, and when I pull away from her lips, her eyes are hooded with lust.
“Please,” she begs, arching her back to grind her pussy over the bulge in my pants. “I need you.”
I’m already pulling my pants down my legs, and throw them across the room, zoning in on her spread legs, and pullher dress up her body so she’s bare beneath me, her belly swollen with my child and her beautiful body on display for me. “Fuck. Just look at you, baby,” I tell her, slowly stroking my cock as I just look at her.
So fucking gorgeous.
Jesus, I’m a lucky bastard.
“Please,” she repeats, reaching for me. “You need to hurry up. The bachelorette party is in an hour.”
A groan slips my lips as I rip my shirt off, and kneel between her legs, my thumb rubbing circles over her pretty little clit. “Let me take care of you, baby. There’s no need to rush me. We have all the time in the world.”
“Until she gets here,” Leila says, running a hand softly over her belly. “She’ll be here soon, and then you won’t be able to have me for six weeks,” she points out with a smirk.
I arch a brow. “I can still make you come without sticking my dick in you,” I tell her, thrusting a finger inside her until her back arches. Fuck. She’s so wet, and tight, and I can’t wait to fuck my wife.
“You can’t even handle six weeks?” Leila asks, shaking her head, a moan spilling out of her lips as I position my cock against her entrance, rubbing it over her clit. “You can’t live without me, huh?”
I smirk at her teasing and shake my head. “I really can’t,” I say, sliding home.
Chapter 11
“Oh fuck.” I lift my head, seeing Gabi fall into the booth beside me, immediately dropping her head on my shoulder. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”
A laugh bubbles out of me as she squeezes her eyes closed, and the girls all smile in amusement at ger state. “You might want to go easy,” I suggest, knowing it’s no use since the chance of her listening to me is slim to none.
She shakes her head, her face screwing up. “No fucking way,” she says, lifting her head, and squaring her shoulders. “This is my bachelorette party, I’m not going to sit around andrest.” She makes a disgusted expression, and lifts out of the booth, tugging on my hand. “Come on. You’re coming to dance with me.”
My brows tug together because… I really do not want to get up on that dancefloor and dance when I’m about to pop. “Why not Madi or Rosie?” I ask her, subtly widening my eyes at the girls, begging them to take my place.
Gabi, however, shakes her head. “Rosie can’t dance,” she says, casting an apologetic look at Rosie, “sorry, but it’s true.” Rosie raises her brows in shock, but Gabi continues. “And Madi’s already been out there with me, but you haven’t.”
My eyes narrow down at her. “Did you forget I’m pregnant?” I ask, raising my brow at her. “I can’t move like you,” I say, gesturing to my protruding belly.
She shoots me a dry look. “If you can fuck your husband all damn day, then you can dance a little at my bachelorette party.”
Damn it. “Fine,” I huff, sliding out of the booth—not well, might I add—until I stand, and barely have time to catch my breath before Gabi tugs me onto the dancefloor, hundreds of people moving to the beat of the music, surrounding me.
“Come on,” Gabi says, spinning around to face me before her hands drift to my hips. “Move your hips, grandma. Have some fun. You need this.”
My eyes narrow down at her. “Who the hell are you calling a grandma?”
Gabi snickers, a glint shining in her eyes. “You’re right. My grandma can dance better than you.”
I let out a scoff, and start to move my hips to the music like she instructed me to, because the girl is bossy as hell, and won’t stop pestering me until she gets what she wants.
The music is good, and the room is dark and loud, and it’s pretty fun.
Until someone bumps into me, and I’m reminded of why I hate places like this. A groan leaves my lips when I’m pushed toward Gabi, and I squint down at her. “I’d much rather be lying in bed smothered by snacks right now.”
She laughs a little, and rolls her eyes. “Sounds so fun,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her tone.
