Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

D eclan

My gorgeous wife snuggles into me after I turn off my alarm.

"Declan, stay in bed with me." She murmurs into the skin of my neck.

Damn, she's so fucking sexy. I love how greedy my good girl has been. As painful as the argument was, the months since have been heaven on earth. It's been nearly every day, sometimes three or four times a day, she's begged me to make love to her.

A small hand roams over my chest. Fucking hell, my cock is aching. But she knows the rules. I don't touch her until she asks me to make love to her. In the beginning, I might have gotten carried away when she snuggled up into me on the couch. She loved the brand-new couch she picked out and would spend all day on it if she could .

I assumed every time she wanted me to hold her, she wanted to make love. It took a few times before I figured out that sometimes she simply wanted to be held. Annoyed at myself, we had to have another talk, and now she knows she needs to use her words.

"Please make love to me, dear husband." She whispers into my mouth.

Thank fuck. Her kiss is so very needy. Shifting her is easy, even though she grumbles.

Our son is growing on a daily basis, and now I can't take her in missionary without discomfort to her unless she's on a half-dozen pillows or the edge of the bed. And I'm feeling like a lazy fucker today. If she were honest, she loves this position too—it's the easiest way for me to fall asleep inside her. She just hates being limited.

I slide into her from behind, her back to my chest. Personally, this has grown to be my favorite way to have her. I love the way her body is open to me so that I can touch her and taste her freely. And I will never stop loving how I can leisurely fuck her in this position.

Her little whimper as I thrust all the way inside her slides down to my already tight balls. Our son is pissed. I can see her stomach move as he kicks inside her. It's fascinating watching all the ways she's changing and growing our child—and I wish it didn't make my cock so damn hard. It felt wrong to love it so much. But I'm hoping like hell to keep her pregnant for many years to come—it makes me so hungry for her.

Cupping a breast, I suck adoringly. It's definitely wrong to want this part of her all to myself. Definitely…but fuck I can't help how hard it makes me. She had me laughing at how annoyed she was th e nursing bras she bought for when he comes aren't sexy. I tried reminding her they weren't supposed to be.

Then she smarted off to me that she had no doubt I was going to see her in them and take them off her more than our son. And I almost got down on my knees in thanks for her.

My wife is needy this morning as she pushes back against me for more. I send my hand to her hip to keep her in place as I fuck into her. There those little moans are. I'm supposed to be teasing her. But in only minutes, I'm close to coming.

I slide my hand down to her weeping pussy and send my fingers deep inside her.

"Declan, oh god. Please."

Damn it. She's doing that thing she knows that drives me crazy—her tight cunny catching at my cock and squeezing until fireworks are exploding behind my eyelids. Fucking hell. I'm a savage fucking her hard, pounding deep into her.

When she comes, the way her cunny tightens and milks me for every drop has me nearly blacking the fuck out from a loss of air in my damn lungs.

The alarm goes off on my phone. It pulls me out of the waves I've been floating on with her. Shit.

"Love, we have to get up. Remember, it's your doctor's appointment today." I whisper into her ear.

She sighs. "The baby is fine. He kicked the hell out of me, and now he's finally out again."

"Miranda," I warn her as I pull out. The witch clutches at me and moans her displeasure when I pinch her ass as I slip out of bed .

"No, it's too cold out there. Let's move to Hawaii." She mumbles as she clutches the covers around her.

"Nope, from what I hear, the native people hate it when others do that. And we wouldn't be able to take Aoife. She'll never leave Chicago. No more of that lovely bread you love so much."

Moaning, she turns over, her eyes a toasty brown. "Come back to bed, please."

"I'll let you sit on my cock while I wash you for your appointment. But if I have to come get you. You wash yourself." I warn her as I go into the bathroom.

From her multiple curses, I know she's getting out of bed on her own. I've had to be too firm and follow through on my punishments lately. She knows I'll hold to it. The woman has been testing me when it comes to giving in to her cravings, panicking over how much weight she's gained. Never mind, the increased inches have my cock growing hard. I loved her ass before, but now… Fucking hell, I almost embarrassed myself at the pub the other day just thinking of her ass.

It isn't easy to hold in the chuckle as she waddles into the shower. She hates when I call her cute. But there's no other word for it. Washing her is enjoyable for both of us. She hums with pleasure as I run the sponge over her back.

"Do you want to wash your hair today, love?"

"No, it will take forever to dry." She sighs.

"Then be careful when I shift you." Nodding, she covers her hair in a messy bun with her hand.

I'm done washing us both, and my cock is aching when she goes down on her knees to take me into her mouth. It's fucked up to love the sight of this. I need to get my ass to church. Then she hums and everything else disappears in the pleasure of her sweet mouth.

We're in the walk-in closet, and she hates everything. It isn't easy to keep a hold of my temper. The latest growth spurt has her needing to go shopping again.

"I hate those pants. They feel itchy." She pouts.

"Sweetheart, they are cotton. It's too cold for you to be wearing a dress outside."

That blasted lower lip sticks out more. "I'm hardly outside. If you were to drop me off at the front and then park."

I give in. I loathe letting her walk into the building alone. Hell, I hate her out of my sight for longer than ten minutes at a time.

Downstairs, Aoife shakes her head at me. "You're too soft. That boy is going to run rings around you." To Miranda. "Dear, it's a freezer out there. Are you sure there are no pants you would feel comfortable in?"

"Everything feels too scratchy, and I'm too—" I'm waiting as she catches herself and looks to me. She'll not be sitting for a week if she even finishes the thought. Sighing. "We're not going to be out long."

"Fine. I'll be making some hardy stew while you're both out. And a garlic one besides it in case you get sick." A bowl full of the oatmeal and berries Miranda loves is set on the table. "What will you be having, Declan?"

I'm starving for bacon, but it makes Miranda nauseous. "I'll have a bowl of porridge too. Add some nuts to mine, please."

Miranda

I'm trying hard to stay awake on the way to the doctor's office, but all I want is to sleep. This dang baby is growing by the hour, I swear.

The ultrasound technician smiles when she sees us. She admitted she loves doing the 3d ultrasounds because of how much she can see. After the fifth month, Whitney asked if Declan was certain he wanted to keep doing them. His single eyebrow raise was all she needed to laugh and note it going forward.

Now, in my seventh month, I'm just grateful for being able to see him clearly and soothe that niggling in the back of my mind that still hasn't gone away. Every time I saw him on the screen, my heart became so full I worried it would explode out of my chest. He's perfect…but. What is going on?

"Oh dear, he has gotten himself wrapped up in the umbilical cord." The technician says at the same time I notice it.

Declan shakes his head. "He's going to be a handful. Like his mother."

I stick my tongue out at him. Then, focus on the screen. "Is he okay?"

"Oh yeah, he'll be fine. Remember, the cord is nice and thick. I'm sure he'll get himself out of it soon enough." She writes down some things as she measures the screen. "Yep, he's on track. Maybe a little ahead on the growth chart. Good job, Mom and Dad, making sure you're getting all the good stuff for him."

I'm suitably relieved by her assurance. Leaving the office, I'm more intent on getting Declan to stop for salty Chinese food and discussing what our plans are for Thanksgiving than the cord around the baby.

Miranda

I'm so glad I quit my job before I got pregnant. I wouldn't have lasted long or been a huge baby the whole time.

I'm frustrated by how long it takes to get out off the couch that could double for a bed with how soft and wide it is. I'll be forever grateful Declan made me get it, even though I gasped at the price. The only thing he cared about was not getting it in white with the small hands of a child to turn brown. We went with red, and I love the impact it has on the room with the sage green on the walls.

Waddling into the kitchen, I sigh with pleasure at the smell of the soup. Christmas is tomorrow, and I love all the ways Aoife has helped me decorate the house and the multiple trees Declan has let me have.

"Well, dear, I was about to go and get you up for lunch. How are you feeling?"

"I'm tired still. I swear. How soon until he gets here? And where the heck is my husband?" I grumble as I tuck into the soup. It's so freaking good.

"Maeve and those girls. There's always drama, but especially around the holidays. The women of those men go looking for answers they know they don't really want." She shakes her head.

"I'll be leaving in a few minutes. My daughter always needs one last poke into the shops for something she forgot. But remember, I'll be back early tomorrow. You aren't to touch a thing." It's an order.

I nod. I'm not allowed to do more than direct from a chair or the couch. Tomorrow the house will be full of people from around noon on. Which is why Declan has commanded I get to open a few presents tonight then tomorrow I'll open the rest in our room before people get here.

Settling my hand on my stomach is done without thought as I eat. I get a kiss on the cheek goodbye from Aoife five minutes later.

As I go back to rest on the sofa, I'm wondering where Declan is and hope he likes his gifts. His birthday is in late January, so it's the first time I've had to shop for him. I followed Aoife's recommendation for several things, a few new sweaters, a shirt proclaiming his new dad status, and a new watch. But the one thing I didn't is one of the private things in our room. It's a photo album of pictures of his mother and father together and separately.

I was speaking with his gran in Ireland and remarking about how few pictures there were in the house of her. She said she knew it hurt Declan's father to see them. All of them are in the album, but several have been blown up, so I can put them up in his office and around the house. I try not to be bothered that he still keeps his office locked when he's away from the house. In the end, it's better for both of us.

My hand roams over my stomach. Huh, I'm only now realizing the baby hasn't moved much today. I get up and snatch up the baby heart monitor Declan got me a few months ago—another thing to soothe my concern over the baby. Pressing it against my stomach, I sigh with relief to hear the baby's heart in that fast whooshing I worried over the first time I heard it .

It's fine. I'm sure I'm just out of sorts with Declan out of the house when it feels like he hasn't needed to be in the last few weeks.

Declan

I come awake to my wife's mouth on my cock and wonder if I've died and gone to heaven. Whipping the covers off me, I find her emerald eyes glittering up at me.

Sucking to the very end, she lets me go with a resounding pop. "Merry Christmas, my dear husband."

"Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife."

With a wicked smile her mouth is back on me. Fucking hell. She's humming with pleasure driving me to the edge too damn quickly. No, damn it. I want more time. This is too good to end.

But I don't get more time. She takes my balls into her mouth and jacks me the way she knows I love. It feels like two minutes before I'm warning her that I'm coming.

She's back to sucking those three inches as hard as she can while both hands work me. I come with a groan of her name.

I'm trying to open my eyes when she settles against me, wrapping my arm around her. I squeeze her tight and press a kiss to her temple.

"Thank you," I murmur once I find my voice again.

"You're welcome. I did it for me as much as you."

"Best Christmas ever."

Her eyes are glittering. "Really?"

I nod. "Even without our son." I press a hand to his kicking foot. "Waking up to you is better than the year I got my car or even the year my mother taught me to ride a bike on the bike I was pleading months for."

"Hmm…me too. Even better than the year my mom got me the cat I was pleading for, and not because I ended up allergic to it either. This is better because ever since you told me you loved me, I've wondered if this was all an amazing dream. Today with your son kicking the shit out of me, I'm over being pregnant, and I'm positive this is no dream. Your son has now become as much of a pain as you can be at times."

Laughing, I cuddle her close. "If it were my girl, she would be a sweetheart, and you'd be worried because you'd barely know she was there."

"I can't wait to find out." She sighs. "Ouch. These earrings are gorgeous but heavy. I didn't mean to fall asleep in them."

"They're as beautiful on you as I thought they would be. I love that they are the color of your eyes when I'm inside you."

She blushes and buries her face in my chest. "You're so dirty. Ugh, is that the time already? The house is going to be full before long."

"Remember, at any time, you can retire up to the bedroom. I don't want you downstairs longer for a minute than you feel up to." I'm firm. "You are too close for me to punish you but don't think a punishment won't be waiting." I warn her.

Giggling, she nods. "Yes, dear husband. I'll be a good girl. I promise."

"All right. It's time for you to open your last presents. "

Pushing up from me, she sighs and slides off the bed. "You didn't need to get me anything else. I got more than enough. You're spoiling me."

"It's only spoiling if you don't appreciate it." I wrap my robe around her, tying it below the large mound of our son. She's too damn appealing to remain naked. "Now, sit down on the lounge."

I shake my head at the Christmas tree she put in our room. It fits perfectly into the bay window and oval of space in front of the chaise lounge that's usually tucked into it.

In our walk-in closet, I throw on a pair of boxers and find the two large paintings I'd stowed in here in the false wall. A good hiding place not only for weapons but Christmas gifts.

Out of the closet, her eyes go wide. "What did you do?"

"You have to open them to find out. This one first."

Carefully, she tears the paper from it. "Oh my god, Declan. How did you…"

I'm at her side, she tucks her face into my neck and cries her happy tears. I don't care if they're happy—they still fuck with my chest. "Do you like it?"

Sniffling, she nods but doesn't take her face away from me.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should open the other one to be sure."

"Okay." It's muffled against the skin of my neck. She doesn't move.

"Do you need me to get some tissues?" I ask into her hair.

She nods.

I let her go and grab the box of tissues that live on her bedside table. Taking a few, I give them to her .

Wiping her tears, she stares down at the painting. It's of her parents, painted from a picture of them on their tenth wedding anniversary. They were young and still happy, looking at each other with the love they both felt for each other clear in the photo and the painting. She had a few pictures of her mother and father around the house. But it felt like they were tucked in among the ones she'd taken of me, my father, and my family in Ireland.

"Can you open it, please?" Her voice is a whisper.

"Sure, baby." I tear the paper away.

This is one of her and her mother. It's also taken from a picture she kept on the bedside table. She's got her head in her mother's lap. Her mother's hand is running through her hair. They both look dreamy and content in the moment. She told me only a month later, her mother would find out she had cancer, then die less than two years after the photo.

Her arms go around my neck, and she clings like her life depended on hanging onto me. With our son between us, I do my best to hold her as she cries.

As the tears begin to abate, I run my hand up and down her back. "I think next year I'll stick with lingerie and jewelry."

She gasps and smacks my arm. "Don't you dare. I'm sorry I'm all weepy. I swear?—"

My mouth on hers swallows the apology. I taste the love, sadness, and joy. Damn it, I end the kiss before it gets away from me.

A little mewl of frustration comes from her. "Declan." Is a moan.

"Sweetheart, let's get you into the shower. Guests are impending." I remind her .

The growl of frustration has me laughing. "Fine. Darn it. Oh no, wait. It's your turn now. And now I'm a little weirded out by how alike we think. Can you get it for me? It's under the bed, my side."

"I definitely don't need?—"

Another smack on my arm. "Go get it."

"Fine." I sigh. Under her bed, I find a very large and heavy box. "I hope someone else carried this upstairs for you."

"Of course, you bossy boots man. It was Colm. He took me to pick it up and brought it upstairs. Open it."

The large box has two boxes in it. "Open this one first."

I take out the box she pointed to. It's filled with pictures of my mother in frames ready for us to hang. I ask in wonder. "Where did you get these?"

"Your gran. When I saw all the pictures of your mom she had in her home, it hit me how few there were of her here in the house—only two didn't seem right." Her eyes are a soft moss, wide with concern. "Is it okay?"

I'm looking through the pictures—there are some I've never seen before. My mother as a young girl, when she was a teenager, her holding me with joy clear on her face when I was a baby, and one with the same joy when I was five.

I shake my head in wonder. "When she was alive, the house was filled with pictures of her, me, and my father. Like any normal family's home would be. But when I came back, the house was stripped of everything that was her. He'd had the house redone less than six months after she died. He said it hurt too much to be reminded of her. Only the two pictures of her remained—her on their wedding day and when she was pregnant with me survived the purge. I could have forgiven him if he'd stored them away or something. Except he didn't. He burned them all. He left me with nothing of her."

Once again, her arms go around my neck, and she clings to me as if she didn't dare let me go. "Your father was cruel to send you away when you needed him most, to take you away from everything you'd known, and to take her away from you."

It takes a long minute to find my voice. "Thank you for giving her back to me."

Letting me go, she wipes her eyes. I snatch a tissue and wipe the tears away. "No crying for me, m'fhiorghra"

She sighs. "I have to you since you're a big, tough man who won't cry. Now it's time to open the other box."

I take it from the larger box and find a photo album. It's large and filled with photos of my mother from the time she was a baby until the year she died.

Allowing my head to fall to hers. "Best Christmas ever, thank you."

"Me too." She whispers as she hugs me tight.

Now that the last guest is gone. We're in front of the fire in the living room, wrapped around each other with my hand on our son, when she sighs.

"He hasn't been moving much, yesterday and today." Her voice is small.

"Do you want me to get the heart monitor?" I ask as I look for it around the room. I had known she would need the reassurance of the device.

She shakes her head. "I checked him last night, and tonight, your cousin was listening to him and telling Ryan she wanted one. I just can't help but worry."

"Sweetheart, you're at twenty-eight weeks next week. You said yourself, he's growing by the minute. I read those books and they say he's not got a whole lot of room to be doing flips as much. But do you want to see if we can get you in on Tuesday when everything opens up instead of Friday when we have the normal twenty-eight-week appointment?"

She's quiet for a long minute. "No, as long as I hear him tomorrow and Sunday. Have I told you how much I love you reading the books too?"

"All right, love. Whatever you want." I assure her. "And you have. I'm glad I did. It wasn't fair for you to have all those nightmare scenarios running through your mind on your own."

"I do so love the way you take care of me. Thank you, my gorgeous husband."