orange wings fluttering against the blue sky.
You eager little butterfly.
I remember when Weston had first said the words to me… I had my own little trio of butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.
He has ruined butterflies for me forever. Every time I spot one, I know I’ll think of him. But that’s the least of my worries. Every time I look at my child, I’ll see him too. And when I look into my girls’ eyes, I’ll see Gabe.
And I won’t have either Gabe or Weston.
The girls both absolutely love their room. Almost as if tailored just for them, it is filled with playful, sweet touches; Norman Rockwell prints, colorful bed quilts, and vintage toys displayed on the bookshelf.
We’ve tucked them in, full of smiles. I retreat to the quiet of my room. It’s still pretty early, yet I’m exhausted as I stretch across the bed. I know it’s a combination of all the fresh air and the pregnancy. I’m just about to drift off when Gabe stretches his long frame next to mine. He fixes me with beautiful serious eyes and the slightest hint of a smile.
I know that look.
Those honey hazel eyes of his almost hypnotize me. I can’t pull my gaze from his.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, his words soft and smooth as silk.
Ordinarily, I’d be all over him like blue on sky. But today, there’s too much guilt to even think about enjoying his touch. How can I make love to him knowing another man’s child grows inside me?
But I can see he really wants this.
A devilish smile curves his lips. “It’s been a while since you and me…”
He’s being unusually coy tonight. Generally, he grabs my ass and says something like ‘it’s been forever since we’ve had sex, babe’. But I suspect he senses something is not quite right. He knows I’m skittish.
He wraps a strong arm around my waist and pulls me in, closing the distance between us. And I just melt. I completely melt. I want him so much.
But I can’t do this. I stare up at the ceiling and focus on the exposed wooden beams. I can’t quite face him. He toys with the hem of my light summer camisole, his fingers tracing the laced edge softly. I close my eyes.
Would it really be so bad? The two of us together right now? This week might very well be my last chance ever to be with him — it most likely will be. Once he knows my secret, he will hate me.
One last time.
He gently slides my camisole up my torso, exposing my stomach. I can’t take this anymore, he’s arousing me. And I know I shouldn’t be aroused.
He presses his large hand on my belly, just below my navel and completely does me in. The heat of his hand radiates through me. My body desperately craves him. It seems it’s been forever.
“You’re so soft,” he whispers and does something unexpected. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on my belly, just a few inches above where my baby lies. I’m still staring up at the ceiling, tears in my eyes. I want to scream out my secrets, unburden myself, beg for his forgiveness, kneel at his feet and kiss his toes. He doesn’t deserve this.
And I want him. God, do I want him.
I pull him to me, tears still trailing down my cheeks. I press my mouth to his. He tastes sweet. His kiss heats up my entire body.
He tears himself away. “You’re crying,” he breathes. “I can taste your tears. Why?”
I pull him to me again, reveling in the taste of his mouth, my hands exploring the soft taut skin of his stomach. I venture south, undo his pants as fast as I can, and wrap my hand around his beautiful hard cock, the size of it arousing me even more. I’d almost forgotten how amazing he is. “It’s been so long…” I breathe, my mouth pressed against his.
“God, I know,” he practically growls. He undoes the fly of my shorts, rough and hard, like I like it.
I throw my head back. “Fuck me like you used to,” I beg. “Rip my panties off, Gabe.”
He tears my shorts down my legs. “My pleasure, you kinky girl.” He pulls at the fabric of my cheap cotton panties, the strain cutting into my skin. It hurts, but I love it.
And yet, despite how strong he is, the fabric doesn’t give.
He shoots me a wicked smile. “These are some fucking strong panties.”
He lets