23. Roland

As soon as the car came to a stop, I shoved open the door and made to heave myself out of the seat, but Emerson scolded me quickly. "Don't you dare get out by yourself. Wait for me."

I rolled my eyes, but I didn't say a word in complaint as he hopped out his side and ran around to help me out, little white clouds puffing from his mouth with each breath. His fussing over me had reached ridiculous heights, in direct proportion to the size of my stomach, but I secretly loved it. After so many years of pretending to ignore each other, I relished the constant attention. It made me feel loved, adored, cherished.

"Here, give me your hand," he offered. I took his hand, and while he pulled from the front and I pushed off the seat from behind, we managed to heft my body upright. He didn't let go of me yet, though.

"We're going to have to do something about this ice. This is downright dangerous," he muttered, frowning as he wrapped an arm around my waist as best he could, considering I was significantly wider than I used to be—and that was before you took the puffy winter jacket into consideration. "Shuffle your feet, that way you won't slip."

I did as instructed, and we made our way up the curving sidewalk, one inch at a time. My heart gave a little pitter-patter as we approached. It was official—we were homeowners!

The house was absolutely adorable, blue with white shutters, a wide porch, and a garden bed buried under the snow. I had no idea what would sprout from the soil in the spring, but I couldn't wait to see. It was gifted to us from my new father-in-law, Reinhold. Seeing as he had three million dollars from the sale of the hotel, and no more payoffs to make, thanks to us, he figured it was the least he could do. Besides, it was a wedding gift. He was still a little sore we hadn't invited him.

Emerson was still planning on a second wedding. He'd wanted to have it as soon as possible, but I had reasoned that it would be easier once the babies were born and I could fit into a normal suit and wouldn't waddle down the aisle. He had relented, but only if I agreed to let him go way over the top. I was doing my best to compromise.

"Easy… careful…" he said, guiding me up the three steps to the porch, then without letting go of me, he worked the key in the lock and got the front door open. "Welcome home." He made to pick me up to carry me over the threshold for the second time, but I speared him with a look, and he wisely decided against it. The last thing we needed was for him to throw his back out trying to hoist me up.

I stepped into the entryway and immediately fell in love. I hadn't been allowed to see the house while Emerson and some of my coworkers painted the walls, moved in the furniture, and hung photos and artwork, but it was exactly what I would've done myself. "Ohhh," I gasped, clutching my hands at my chest.

Emerson wrapped his arms around me from behind, and we rocked together for a moment, just taking in the scene. "Happy Valentine's Day, omega mine," my husband murmured into my neck, his nose and lips like ice, and his tongue very much not.

"It's not Valentine's Day yet," I reminded him.

"Valentine's week, then," Emerson replied, while helping me with my coat. He knelt at my feet to help wiggle the boots off my swollen feet. The babies were growing fast and fierce inside me, my bursting stomach the first part of me to enter any room, sometimes by a whole ten seconds. And I was only at six months! It was hard to imagine how much bigger I would get. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

I laughed. "I'm always hungry." My stomach gave a gurgle as proof, and I followed it up with a yawn; I was also always sleepy.

"How about you crawl into bed, and I'll make sandwiches."

"That sounds like heaven." I pursed my lips. "What kind of sandwiches?"

"Hmm," he pondered, trying to discern what I was in the mood for. "Peanut butter, the crunchy kind, and… grape jelly?"

"Ooh, you really know how to sweet talk a guy," I teased, when in reality, food was my love language these days. Talking about food was the equivalent of dirty talk, the way it got my engine revving.

Emerson led me down the hall toward our new bedroom, showing me the other rooms along the way, including the bathroom and the room that would eventually become the nursery. We hadn't decided on a theme yet. We still had some time to get it in order. Eight weeks, in fact, until our scheduled C-section, due to some potential complications that came up during my last ultrasound.

I looked forward to exploring the rest of the house… after my nap. Priorities, am I right?

The bedroom was painted a soothing blue-gray color and had plush carpet that seemed to hug my feet. My gaze, however, was solely focused on the queen-size bed that was currently calling my name.

"You crawl in, and I'll go make those sandwiches. Sound good?" he asked, and I nodded, my eyelids already getting heavy.

I'd barely managed to get my pants off before Emerson was back. He set the plate on the bed, then came over to help me with the rest of my clothes. He tried his best to keep it innocent, but his fingers kept brushing my most sensitive spots, lingering and teasing. Well, shit. Now I was hungry, sleepy, and horny!

Emerson helped me into bed with the utmost care, propping pillows up behind my back, before passing me the plate, which I rested on my stomach. I looked up at him, standing by the edge of the bed. "You're joining me, right?" I asked, licking jelly from my thumb.

He sighed dramatically. "I suppose I can, if you're feeling lonely." He undressed quickly and hopped in, far too eagerly for me to believe he was doing this as a favor to me. His thick erection was also evidence against him.

Outside, it might've been the coldest winter we'd had in the past decade, but inside, things were nice and toasty warm. In my mind, it was the perfect excuse to cuddle up in bed—as if we needed an excuse. Emerson and I had been insatiable for each other for the past few months, making up for lost time.

While I made quick work of my sandwich, satisfying one of my needs, Emerson crawled between my legs and lowered himself onto his propped elbows. "Hi, my babies," he murmured, directing his words toward my belly button, where something jutted out, either a knee or an elbow. "Are you being nice to your daddy today?"

"No," I groused. "I think they're having a wrestling match in there. Winner gets the last inch of space."

"Aww, and who's winning? I bet you it's Opal. Daddy's girl is a tough one."

"Don't worry, Jayden can hold his own," I said, wincing as one of them pushed against my ribs.

"Just wait until you guys see the nursery I'm planning. You'll have plenty of room in there." He looked up at me over the mound of my stomach. "What do you think? Should we put a wrestling mat down between the cribs?"

I laughed. "No way! If they're going to wrestle, they'll do it in the backyard like most siblings."

Emerson pressed kisses across my belly, and I reached down and ran my fingers through his blond hair. How many times had I dreamed of doing exactly this?

As usually happened, listening to their papa's soothing tone had our children falling asleep. It was a good thing, because Emerson's hands had begun to wander, lower past my stomach, his kisses brushing his face up against my shaft. I didn't need to be able to see my dick to know it was stiff and weeping. "I had a dream like this once, you know, with you lying between my legs…"

"Oh yeah?" he led, his voice husky. He laced our hands together, then pressed a kiss to the new wedding band on my finger. "Tell me more."

"Mm, you took your tongue and teased around the head of my cock… yeah, just like that," I whimpered as he reenacted my fantasies for me.

"What next?" he asked, his breath cooling my wet flesh.

"Lower," I instructed. "Lower…" He moved down my body, kissing and licking along the way, too gentle to give me any real satisfaction. Down my shaft, over the ridges of my balls, teasing past my taint, then he hooked his arms under my legs to lift my hips enough to get a taste of my slick. I felt the vibration of his moan right through me, bringing a rush of slick dripping from my entrance.

"Then…" I panted, "you rolled me onto my side and moved in behind me."

"Did I?" He tongued my hole a few times for good measure, before he knelt on the bed and moved my plate to the bedside table. Then he shoved the blankets aside so he could watch me. He moved me carefully onto my side, his eyes roaming over my body. "Like this?" he asked, spooning around my backside, rubbing his cock along the slippery crack of my ass.

"Yesss," I moaned, arching my back as much as I could to feel him pressed there, firm and unyielding. He lined himself up, with just his thick crown pressing against the puckered muscle, but without penetrating. He paused there and let me squirm. "Em, please, sweetheart. More!"

"The dream," he coaxed. "What did I do next?"

"You fucked me hard!" I whined.

He tsked, nudging gently at my hole as he brushed his fingertips over my hip. "Are you sure that's what I did?"

"Yes! Fuck me, alpha!" I demanded.

He grabbed my cock in a tight fist, then asked, "And how does the real me compare to the fantasy?" Then he drove deep, making me gasp.

With him buried inside me, stretching me, filling me, I said, "There is no comparison. You're perfect."