Ripped - Cassia Leo Page 0,36

can’t orgasm standing up like this. I’m afraid I’ll collapse. Just fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

I grab her hips and dig deep into her. “Oh, fuck. Is that… Is that your cervix or something else?”

“No,” she replies, shaking her head adamantly. “Don’t stop. Fuck me harder.”

I swallow hard as I thrust into her. The sensation is a mixture of pleasure and confusion.

“Are you sure I’m not hitting the babies?”

“No, you’re not,” she replies, reaching back and pushing my chest to shove me away. “If you don’t want to have sex, that’s fine. I’m going to bed.”

I watch her, unable to form a sentence, as she pulls her panties up and storms out of the kitchen, leaving me with my pants around my ankles and my dick in my hand. What the fuck just happened? It must be the pregnancy hormones. Either that, or this is turning into the weirdest week of my life.

I pull up my pants and finish my glass of water before I grab my suitcase and head upstairs. But when I get to the master bedroom, I find it’s already been converted to Kaia’s room, and she’s sleeping peacefully in her canopy bed. I close the door softly and stop by her old bedroom. As Lindsay mentioned, Kaia’s room has been turned into a nursery.

I flip the light switch and I get a pang of remorse in my gut when I see the neutral butter-yellow color palette Lindsay chose for the room. I know she did it for me, so I wouldn’t feel disappointed in case I found out I was having twin girls instead of twin boys. And now, the mere thought of this makes me feel like a supreme asshole. I should be so lucky as to have two more girls as amazing as the ones I already have.

I leave my suitcase in the hallway, then I head downstairs to the master bedroom addition. When I enter the room, I’m surprised to see all our bedroom furniture in a new configuration. It looks sort of lifeless, with a large empty space in the corner because the new master is too big for the amount of furniture we had upstairs, and none of my surf awards or trophies are displayed on the walls. To be fair, there’s nothing on the walls yet, and Lindsay and I agreed that the awards would be moved into the workshop in the backyard where I keep my boards.

Lindsay is lying down in bed, facing away from the door. I close the door behind me and turn off the light. Taking off my clothes before I get in bed, I slide in close to her and snuggle my face into her neck as I gently lay my hand on her belly.

“The nursery looks good. You did a beautiful job.”

She lays her hand on top of mine. “You mean it? You’re not disappointed that it’s not blue?”

“Fuck, no,” I insist. “I’d be happy if we had ten pink bedrooms.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I’m not doing this anymore. This is the last time. I’m closing up shop after this.”

I kiss the back of her neck, savoring the clean flavor of her skin. “I bet I’ll be able to convince you to have another one.”

“No. No way. This has been hell on my body and my hormones. Besides, why would you want another one? Four is enough.”

I kiss the back of her ear and she sighs. “Is it? I was kind of thinking five kids sounds like a nice number. I like the number five.”

Her fingertips brush over my knuckles. “Your hand is scraped. You should clean it up and wrap it so it doesn’t get infected.” She tosses the covers off and turns on the lamp on the bedside table. “Come on.”

I roll my eyes as I follow her into the unfinished master bathroom. She reaches into the box of stuff from our old master bathroom and digs around a little, coming up with a roll of adhesive gauze, some gauze squares, iodine, and cotton balls. It’s not uncommon to get banged up when I’m surfing, so we always have a full stock of first-aid supplies on hand. Sometimes I get scraped up from running into other surfers and sometimes it’s from being thrown against the rocks. Sometimes it’s my own board that bangs me up. I once got a broken nose when my board popped out from underneath me, flew into the air, and came down on my face.

She sits on the toilet,