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“Thanks,” I said as I walked him down three flights of stairs to the front door. I had an elevator at the back of the house, but I rarely used it. It was going to come in very handy when Imogene was pregnant, though.
The contractor and I shook hands, and then he was gone. The renovations were on the fourth floor, so I wandered back to the master suite on the second floor, intending to gather some stuff and sleep in the finished basement so I wouldn’t be too disturbed by the noise.
Instead, my bare feet padded along the shiny, hardwood floors until I was standing in the doorway to the room just across the hall. It had been finished only a few weeks after I’d started the renovations on my brownstone. The changes had been simpler, and I wasn’t adding a sunroom onto it like I was on the fourth floor.
The walls were painted a soft yellow, a big picture window looked out over the street, and it was flanked by two white, built-in bookcases. On the left end of the wall, in the corner, was a cream and wood glider with a teddy bear already propped in the seat, ready for some cuddling. The next wall had a white crib and changing table, as well as other necessary items for a nursery. The opposite corner of the room had a little nook with cupboards waiting to be filled with toys, and the wall beside it was taken up by a white chest of drawers and the door to a walk-in closet. Everything was neutral so it would work for a girl or a boy, but I had done it more so that everything could be easily changed based on what Imogene wanted.
Staring at the nursery I’d had built for the babies I planned to have with her; I made a decision. Whether her other surprise was ready or not, I was bringing my woman home in two weeks.
“Imogene,” I groaned as I pumped my hips in a steady rhythm. Her legs wrapped around me, and she arched her back, shoving her sweet tits in my face. They were perfect, like two scoops of vanilla ice cream with red cherries on top. They were going to be even more mouthwatering when they were dripping with milk. I bent my head to suck one tight peak into my mouth, sucking hard, as though I could already drink from her.
My spine started tingling, and I lifted my head to grit my teeth as I pushed back my pending orgasm. I switched to her other breast, and Imogene clutched my biceps, her nails digging into my skin as she cried out in ecstasy. They were going to leave marks, and it made the caveman inside me roar with approval. I wanted her to brand me as hers, just as the love bites around her tits and the bruises she would no doubt sport on her hips from my firm grip marked her as mine.
I popped her nipple from my mouth and kissed the valley between her tits before demanding, “Tell me you love me, sugar.” I needed to hear it. There was no stronger aphrodisiac than hearing my woman profess her love. I was completely obsessed with Imogene, and I wanted—no, needed—her to feel the same way.
Her eyes met mine, and they were brimming with emotion. “I love you so much, Thatcher.”
It was all I needed. I reached between us and pinched her clit just before I thrust in one last time, burying myself as deep as possible and coming with a shout. The second I started to release inside her, Imogene exploded, her head dropping back as she screamed my name.
I rocked against her, prolonging our orgasms as long as possible. Eventually, we lay there, limp and utterly spent. I stayed inside her, plugging her hole so no come would leak out of her. My boys were on a mission, and I was doing everything I could to help them out. After a while, I grew tired from holding myself up so that I wouldn’t squish her petite body beneath my massive one. I fucking loved the way I could cover her from head to toe, though.
Rolling to the side, I sighed in contentment as I cuddled Imogene against me. I kissed the top of her head and lifted her face, her lips searching for mine. I obliged her silent request, kissing her passionately. The taste of cinnamon and sugar burst on my tongue as it tangled with hers.
My eyes opened, and I stared at the empty spot beside me on the bed. My body was sweating and shaking from the force of my orgasm, but as my hand slid over the soft sheets, feeling their coolness, the chill spread from my fingertips to the rest of me. These dreams left me feeling bereft and alone. The funny thing was, despite coming during the dream, it wasn’t the ejaculation that had my dick going limp when I woke up. It was remembering that I was alone, and it was always a long time before I fell into another restless sleep.
