“Daddy knows what you like in that filthy mouth, babydoll,” I grin before I notice the baby is fussing.
Forgetting about the photos for now, I go to take him and give her a break. With her so close to having another baby, our onery little guy wears her out sometimes. Lucky for us, I get to be home with her since we both work out of the workshop out back.
Since she came to me, I do venture down to Driftwood more than before. We go to meet Landon, Keller, and all the others we call friends. I had hoped she would get on with their wives and of course, she does. She takes the photos for all the important moments in their lives—weddings, birthday parties, baby showers, you name it, my woman is there shooting for them.
That blue collar project she mentioned was a big hit, though. She spent a few months when she first got pregnant taking photos of the guys at the landing, felling trees and even some of the Foxtrot Freight guys—the truckers that ship Mack and Keller’s limber—doing work. Working hard, getting dirty, living rugged—and loving every bit of it.
Those photos were such a hit she never has to take another photo if she doesn’t want to. Now most her photos are of us or our friends, but they are still just as amazing. When I glance down at her now, holding my son to rock him against my chest, I wish I could take photos too.
Sami rocks in the chair by the fireplace in a silky pink dress that hides nothing from my hungry gaze. Her head is back, inky hair blowing in the breeze from the open window. Her belly is soft and round, her left hand smoothing over it, flashing the simple gold band with the specks of diamonds I put on her hand at the church when I made her mine forever.
“God, I love you,” I breathe the words as I stare at her.
Sami’s green eyes flash up to meet mine as she flushes pretty pink. Her eyes say the words without her mouth needing to. I touch her, brushing my dirty hand across her pale cheek. I know she won’t care about the stain or sawdust. She loves when I touch her and her eyes flash hot to show me how much.
“Go put him down,” she murmurs, biting her bottom lip, “I think we need mommy and daddy time.”
“Could not agree more, wife of mine,” I shoot back.
Ten minutes later, my little guy is out—I sang him his favorite commercial jingles—and I am headed for our bedroom. Before I get there, I am tearing at my zipper and palming my stiff cock, grunting as I smell her. Sweet cream and cotton candy goodness. Fuck, I love how sugary sweet she smells.
Stepping into the bedroom, I see her draped back on our bed, her gown still on. It’s late afternoon but I love when she stays in those silky nighties. The pink is so innocent but sexy on her, it makes me so hot. Seeing her spread out on our bed, round and ready for me makes me pause.
“I love you,” I whisper, stopping between her thighs as she spreads them for me. “You are so Boo Radley beautiful,” I tease her about her idea of a curse, and she laughs.
“Well husband of mine, you are....so...fucking...sexy,” she kisses the words against my chest and my heartrate spikes.
“Christ, I love you, Sami. I wish I could get you pregnant again,” I moan as I smooth my hands over her round belly.
Sami laughs again and tells me to give it a shot.
I do more than give it a shot—I give it several shots.