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Every time she took a pregnancy test and it came back negative, Chrissy Cunningham-Munson wanted to punch a wall.
She wasn’t a violent person by any means, but it didn’t seem fair that she could be having as much sex as she was with her husband—good sex, great sex even—and not be getting pregnant. There was nothing she wanted more in the world than to have a family with Eddie Munson, and even though he would always tell her that he’d be satisfied with just her, she knew he wanted kids, too.
“We’ll get our baby, baby,” he’d whisper, kissing her tears away every time. “You know I’ll never pass up a chance to try.”
When he said words like that, she wanted to swoon, but she was always so emotional and overwhelmed. Right after the loss wasn’t the right time to try again. Though to be fair, Chrissy wasn’t sure what the right time would ever be, when the failure to conceive weighed heavily on her heart. They’d seen a fertility specialist after a year of trying and failing, who’d said that nothing was wrong—they were just unlucky. So they kept trying, but nothing happened. And two years into the effort, she was ready to give up
It was late, and Chrissy lay in their bed wearing one of his old Dio t-shirts. She was dreading the moment Eddie finally came in from the studio; she didn’t want him to be disappointed when she said she was tired of trying.
When he came upstairs, he took one look at her in his shirt and licked his lips. It made her blush, even now, and she felt familiar wetness between her legs. He always acted like she was his favorite meal, and she simply loved to be eaten by him. She bit her lip, and he groaned. “Baby, do you even know what you do to me?” he asked playfully. She could already see his erection straining against his tight jeans, and his stare was dark and heady.
She tried to keep it together. “Eddie, I…” Her nerves and arousal were getting the best of her.
His expression changed immediately, his eyes full of concern. He stepped up to her and put his large, calloused hands on her cheeks, and she leaned into his touch. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked. “Talk to me.”
“I’m so tired, Eddie,” she whined, on the brink of tears. “We keep trying and I just…”
Understand washed across his face; he knew what she was talking about. “Chrissy, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I don’t care if we never have kids. I didn’t marry you as a means to an end. I’m happy if I just get to spend the whole of my life with you.”
She shook her head, her hair falling in front of her face. “I know you want more.”
He brushed her hair away from her eyes. “Do you trust me?”
Her voice was small when she spoke. “Yes.”
“Then trust me to know that I know what I want. And let me show you what I want to spend my life doing with you.”
His lips crashed into hers, his body lunging forward and pressing her back into the pile of pillows behind her. His hands ran up and down her thighs as he situated himself between her legs, letting the rough denim of his jeans rub against her cunt through her panties. He rolled them over so that she was on top of him, still connected by their kiss. He moved his hands up her thighs to her hips. She lifted herself upright to let him slide under the hem of the borrowed shirt to cup his hands sweetly around her breasts and squeeze. She rolled her hips as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples, eliciting a strangled moan that seemed to get caught half-way in his throat. She ground herself against him and he continued his ministrations, caught up in the way that he was so easily gratified by pleasing her.
But she needed more. She climbed off of him and hooked her fingers around the waistband of her panties, pulling them off and tossing them to the floor before lying back on the pillows, bending her knees and spreading her legs wide open, hungry and dripping all for him.
Her husband knew his cues. He launched himself forward and buried his face in her cunt, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. His tongue licked up and down her slit until he put his lips around her clit and sucked, occasionally darting his tongue out to surprise her. He slid two of his fingers into her, growling.
“Fucking love that sweet little cunt of yours, baby, want you to come all over my face and my fingers.”
She pressed up into his face and fingers as hard as she could, desperate for the rush that brought her blood to boil and her mind disappear. He threw his arm across her hips to hold her down, but that only left her wanting more.
“Please, make me come, baby, let me come.” She was babbling, rambling, begging for him to just do what they both wanted, both needed. God, the way he made her need him was so beyond her realm of understanding. All she knew at any given moment was that he had this impossible hold over her that neither of them fully understood. Some people might have said it was wrong, but it was just the right kind of wrong.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
She convulsed as she came, her thighs closing in around his head and holding him in place, and he clearly reveled in it. He lapped her up, not once talking his dark and hungry eyes off of her face. She hated when he watched her come like that, her face all twisted up in ecstasy, but she knew how much it made him want to fuck her more.
He pried her legs apart and emerged, his face damp with a mix of sweat and come, panting and grinning like the devil. “Got another one in you, honey?” he asked, his voice husky and frighteningly ready for more.
She didn’t answer, instead grasping at him, pulling him up to her to kiss him and taste herself on and in his mouth. The taste of the two of them together was enough to get her blood pumping even faster than before. She dug her fingers into his hair, and he groaned as she tugged.
He pushed his jeans and boxers down, setting himself free. She brought her hand between them and pressed into his groin, wrapping her fingers gently around his hard, throbbing cock. He moaned and nipped at her shoulder, rocking against her, lining himself up, dragging his tip up and down her soaked slit.
“Stop teasing,” she whined, “and just fu—oh."
He plunged into her without warning, taking no time to rest inside her and simply thrusting in and out, bearing himself on one hand while using the other to hitch her leg around his waist. “You like that? You like my cock inside your pretty cunt? I’m gonna fuck you full of my come and then I’m gonna do it again, baby. Don’t care if it takes, honey, just wanna fill you up. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, Chrissy, baby, baby—fuck, fuck—come for me, sweetheart, come for me again.”
She knew hew wanted her to come again before he did, but she wanted to feel him inside of her, wanted him to bury his seed in her cunt and stay there as long as they both could take. When he came, he came with a roar, the rush of his come with his erratic thrusting had her arching her back and screaming his name as he pushed her over the final edge.
He collapsed on top of her, and she was still writhing with him inside her, in a state of utter euphoria that she wasn’t sure was natural. There were many times when he’d collapsed on top of her after sex, but she never minded. His weight on top of her was a comfort, a reminder of how much he loved her, trusted her with his body, his safety.
“Don’t wanna move,” he muttered into her skin. “Never ever.”
She rolled them, just a little bit, keeping them glued together while shifting them slightly onto their sides, just to let her lungs expand. She placed a sweet kiss on his cheek. “We can stay right here, baby,” she whispered. “Stay right here all night.”
Sitting on the side of the tub, Chrissy avoided looking at the timer that rested on the tiled bathroom counter. Eddie was in the kitchen making dinner, and she hadn’t told him that she’d picked up another test. After all, she’d told him she was done trying. Done testing. But something was off. She was sore all over and she was late, and she hadn’t been late in the last five years. She just had to be sure.
The timer buzzed and her hand shot out to grab it before it could summon her husband. Slowly, she picked up the little stick and flipped it to see the results.
Dinner was quiet, and she could tell that Eddie was uncomfortable with her silence. But her poker face when lying was practically nonexistent, so if she tried to talk about anything, the truth would come spilling out.
When they stood at the sink, her washing the dishes and him drying, he leaned against the counter and sighed. “Okay, what did I do?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“You haven’t said a word all night. I’m just assuming it’s something I did, or else what you’re mad about, you would’ve talked to me about it by now.”
She shut off the sink and dried her hands off with the dishtowel. This was it. This was her chance. Now was the time.
She batted her lashes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m not mad, baby. I was just trying to keep a secret for a little while.”
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “A secret? From moi? You wound me, darling.”
She kissed him gently, and then whispered against his lips, “My jeans. Back pocket.”
He kissed her back, harder and longer, while he fished in her back pocket for the secret she’d been keeping. He froze when he felt the familiar little plastic stick, and she smiled at his bewildered expression.
“Baby…” he breathed.
“Yes.”
His confusion disappeared, replaced with elation. “Baby,” he repeated, enchanted. It was a word with two meanings now.
She nodded fervently and kissed him again. “Yes, Eddie! Yes!”
He picked her up, both of them laughing joyously, and spun her around. “My baby’s having my baby!” he exclaimed. He kissed her again when he put her down. “When? I mean, how long until—”
She placed her hands on his chest. “If my math is right, then we’ve got a little over seven months. Everybody says that it goes by so quickly, especially in hindsight, but—”
He kissed her once more, pressing their bodies together. “I can’t wait,” he whispered, his smile turning mischievous. “And I think… that we should go celebrate.” He lowered his hands to her ass and gave them a hard squeeze, sending shivers down her spine.
She gnarled her fingers in his hair and brought his head down so that she could answer him right into his ear.
“Fuck yes.”