Page 174 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

She shoves me onto the couch and climbs on top of me. She claims my mouth in a raw, carnal kiss.

My cock twitches against her thighs.

“Tell me what you want, Dante.”

“You. I want you on me.”

She doesn’t wait for a second invitation and sinks onto my erection, our eyes locked.

Our moans blend together.

She starts to grind, sliding on and off me with every roll of her hips.

I’m in a trance.

My hands grip her breasts. I can’t get enough of her.

I move up to take a nipple in my mouth. I nibble and suck, savoring her intoxicating taste.

She moans, arching her back, head thrown back as she rides my hardness.

I’ve never seen anything so desirable.

She opens her eyes and tears into me with another hungry kiss.

When she lets go, I take the lead. She doesn’t look away for a second as I fuck her.

It’s so good. It’s almost painful.

I flip her over and lay her on the couch. I pull her legs around my waist to drive deeper.

Sweat covers us. The room fills with the sound of our bodies moving together.

The rhythm turns frenetic. She clinches around me, and I finally blow my load deep inside her.

The orgasm leaves us drained. I collapse on top of her, gasping for air. Once the tremors stop, I carry her to the bedroom and lay her carefully on the bed.

After cleaning her quickly with a warm cloth, I slide under the sheets and pull her close.

“Alright, I admit it,” I concede, breathing in the scent of her hair. “You’re the alpha male.”

She lets out a little laugh.

44. Nausea

Valeria

Thursday, January 5

I’ve been nauseous for days now.

Not the kind that disappears after a glass of water or a few minutes of rest. No. The kind that comes back every morning—persistent, methodical, impossible to ignore.

There’s nothing mysterious about it.

I’m a scientist. I know exactly what’s happening to me. I understand the probabilities, the drug interactions, the margins of error. Discovering afterward that my migraine treatments could reduce the effectiveness of the pill is hardly extraordinary. It’s written in black and white in package inserts nobody really reads.

Now it’s my reality.