“I-I-It’s… it’s perfect, Ryan. How-... how did-?”
I drew her body as close as I could get it and brought my lips down to hers. The salted tear falling down her cheek found its death upon our connection as the nanny rushed the kids up the stairs. Nothing had changed up there. It would be the apartment they always remembered. The only thing that changed was the addition. The new part of the apartment’s life that had been carved out.
Like the part of my life I’d carved out so Emma could be a part of it.
I sank to my knees and wrapped my palms around her protruding stomach. I slid her shirt up her body, revealing her pulled skin. The purple stretch marks were angry. Crying out at the pressure of my children behind them. I kissed every single one of them. Traced them with my thumb as Emma’s fingers ran through my hair.
“I love you guys so much,” I whispered into her stomach. “I can’t wait for you guys to see your home.”
Then I sank Emma to the floor before I switched on the electric fireplace. Nothing but the sound of the crackling flames and her breathless sighs could be heard as my face fell between her legs. I’d spend every night of my life memorizing her body. Kissing her stretch marks and telling her how beautiful she was to me. Because no woman on this planet had the strength to carry three of my children.
No woman except for her.
Emma Gentry.
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” she said, chanting the sentiment as she rose to her peaks.
I sank my fingertips into the naked excess of her thighs as her arousal melted on the tip of my tongue.
“I love you too,” I murmured into her pussy. “So much, Emma.”
And she fell over the edge, trembling and moaning and choking on my name.
The sweetest sound to ever grace my ears. And before I knew it, another sentiment was falling from my tongue. Effortlessly. Lovingly. Like it had always been meant to be.
With her.
“Marry me,” I said.
Emma held her breath as I peeked up over her stomach.
“What?” she asked.
I rushed up her body and kissed her, falling off to the side as she tasted herself upon my skin.
“Marry me, Emma Gentry.”
“You can’t be serious,” she said.
I reached into my pocket and dug out the ring that had been burning a hole in my sock drawer for weeks. I held it up to her, watching as the massive diamond caught the sparks of flame in our new fireplace. Tears rose to her eyes as she looked at me, her forehead covered in sweat and her stomach ripe with my children.
“But I don’t even have pants on,” she said with a whisper.
“Trust me, as my wife? You definitely won’t need them.”
Her hands reached up to me and pulled my face down to meet hers. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her as closely as her body would allow her to be. I felt her giggling into my lips. Gripping the tendrils of my hair. Slipping her thick thigh between my legs and grinding into my hardened cock.
“Yes,” she said with a whisper.
I opened my eyes and found her bright blue orbs sparkling with happiness.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes, Ryan. I will marry you. Over and over and over again.”
Then I slid the ring on her finger, watching as my entire life flashed before my eyes. Our children. Our home. Our wedding and our dinner dates. Our arguments and our makeup sex and all of the moments in between. Family vacations and cruises and birthdays and anniversaries. Christmases and presents and cookies and morning coffee, and all the sleepless nights with the triplets.
All of it, with Emma.
All of it,