hold your hand. Not in this. You’ve had an education, the best. You’ve had the training—also the best,” I say with a grin. “You can do this and you will succeed.”
ONE MONTH LATER
TENNESSEE
Tonight is the night. Friday morning we had our first checkup. The baby is real, it’s there, and I saw it on the screen. I even have a little blobby picture to prove it, to stare at, to dream about. But tonight, we’re telling the family.
When we married, Landry told me how he enjoyed the tradition of Sunday family dinner night. I couldn’t stomach having the exact tradition as that woman, so I improvised. We have been doing Sunday brunch since the wedding reception, which happened to be just that.
With my back to the doorway, I am busy plating all of the food. Some of it I had catered, but I try to make as much as I can. I enjoy cooking and baking, and unless I’m busy with work or not feeling well, I try to make at least eighty percent of the brunch myself, every week.
“Fuck,” Landry growls.
I feel his head press against my back, his hand lifts, he slides my hair off of my neck, and touches his lips there. My entire body breaks out in goose bumps from his touch. His hands slip around my waist and I feel his palms press against my stomach.
“Landry, I need to finish this,” I breathe.
He hums against my neck. “We have a little time. Holden is still sleeping. Nobody is here yet,” he mutters.
His lips touch my neck with each word that he mutters. Then one of his hands slides down the front of my dress, bunching the fabric as he glides it up my thighs and hips until my entire ass is exposed to him.
Gripping the counter, I tilt my ass backward, wanting… no, needing him inside of me. He chuckles as he takes a step back then slides my panties down my legs. They land at my ankles, and without a single word, I spread my legs and tip my hips even more, my silent invitation for him to fill me.
“Mrs. Astor, you’re already wet,” he coos.
I love it… I mean, I absolutely adore it when he calls me Mrs. Astor. I didn’t think that I would, considering the last Mrs. Astor, but to me, she was always just Susan, so it doesn’t bother me at all, and the way his voice dips when the words leave his mouth—breathtaking and soul-shaking all at the same time.
The teeth of his zipper sliding down fills the room and I can’t hold back my whimper. I need him. I need it. I want everything and I want it right this second. Thankfully, he doesn’t make me wait.
I feel the head of his length press against my center and I let out a satisfied sigh as he buries himself inside of me with one swift move. The hand that is still on my stomach slides up to wrap around the front of my throat.
Gently, he guides my body up slightly, just enough that as he leans over, he can touch his mouth to the side of my neck. His lips suck, his tongue licks, and his hips thrust. It is exactly what I need.
Closing my eyes, I let my body relax. I allow myself to just feel my husband as he moves inside of me. My husband. This man that I have fallen so in love with. This man that owns all of me, even parts of me that I didn’t know existed a year ago. This man who adopted Holden, who is the father of this unborn child.
This man who is my everything.
They say that age is just a number, and I am living that testament. Landry Astor does not act, smile, or fuck like a man who is in his sixties. His age means nothing to me, his heart and his love, on the other hand, mean everything.
It doesn’t take me long to find my climax, I seem to be on edge in general the past week or so. When I come it’s with a whimpered cry as I push back against him, my body trembling.
My legs are shaky, but Landry doesn’t let me fall, he holds me up, his hips thrusting a few more times until he buries himself inside of me and fills me with his release.
LANDRY
I’m still thinking about bending Tennessee over the counter and fucking her. The images, the desire that just the