Crooked nose. Plump lips. Tousled hair falling over closed eyelids, hand tucked under the pillow. Propping my chin on my palms, my head tilts to the side as I watch my husband sleep. His hand blindly reaches for the spot I once occupied, his lips pucker. One of his eyes pops open at the giggles coming from me and a smile lifts his lips as he stretches.
“Good morning, baby,” I say and sweep his hair off his forehead. “How was your night?”
“Fine,” he says as his eyes roam over me. He scoots to a sitting position, a frown replaces his smile. I throw my head back and my lips pucker. “What are you doing on the floor?”
Stretching my hands, I mimic a bird in the sky. “Flying.”
Brandon scowls, I shrug. Someone has got something up their ass. Shaking my head, I stretch my hands to him and he kisses the back of my palms, then proceeds to kiss the insides. I need a proper kiss but for now, I reward him with a smile he reciprocates.
“You shouldn’t be on the floor,” he says and I pout. “Stand up,” he whines.
I am the pregnant one but he acts like I don’t care about the baby as much as he does. If kneeling isn’t okay, I won’t be doing it. Rolling my eyes earns me a knock on my head.
When his warm hand slides inside my gown to cup my breast, I gasp and his eyes light up with mirth. He kneads a nipple gently like he can tell it is sensitive, I sink my teeth into my lip to avoid giving him the satisfaction he craves and my chin juts out in a dare.
On sensing my motive, he pulls my nipple and I wince but he is quick to soothe me with his expert fingers running in circles around my areola. My hands move to his knees, my breasts jiggle in his arms. Moisture gathers in my core, pooling slowly down my legs and I rub my thighs together to stifle a moan. I want his tongue again, down there. I need it.
“Will you stand up?” he asks in a whisper.
“No.”
Brandon’s hand traces the hollow of my neck to my lower lip and an eager finger darts into my mouth. The tent in his boxers calls my hand, I stroke him lazily and he hisses.
The sight of his lips pressed together, creased brows over blazing eyes set my core on fire and I moan. My teeth graze his fingertip, he tilts my head, one hand cups my breast. Staring at him through hooded eyes, I lick my lip and emotions flicker across his face.
“No?”
The huskiness of his voice, a caress on my skin must have triggered my naughty side, I slip his finger into my mouth, suck on it to the knuckle. My lips part, I bat my eyelashes.
Purring, I swipe my tongue over my upper lip, shake my head so my thick mass of curls tumbles down to cover my breasts. I blink, rolling my lip between my teeth. “No,” I whisper.
Challenge accepted, that’s what the carnal look in his eyes says and it excites me.
Jolts of electricity travel down my spine, the trailing of his index finger along my arms elicits sinful moans from my lips. Pulling my strap down my shoulder without breaking eye contact, he sinks his teeth into a corner of his bottom lip and my breathing halts to allow me capture the moment. The sexiest sight I have ever witnessed. His hand curls into my hair, causing my head to fall back and I whimper at the seductive attack on my neck. Slow, torturous kisses, punctuated by nibbles and his perfect dentition on my skin.
I push my hand inside his boxers, cup his balls and when his grip on my neck loosens, I know I stand a chance at flipping the coin. Curling my hand around his manhood, I tug on his waistband until he stops the assault on my neck. His eyes are darkened with lust, the same as mine should be. I struggle to catch my breath when he squeezes my breasts, a chill runs through me, followed by a blinding need to satisfy him and I stop his hands.
“Baby.” He looks up. “I want it in my mouth.”
To support my remark, I slide his member out through his waistband, flick my tongue over it. Twice. “Are you sure?” he asks. A savage need crawls into his eyes, pushing the gentleness to the side and I nod. “You don’t have to, you know? If you don’t want to.”
“Shut up,” I whisper. He chuckles, a strained sound that shows he wants this as much as I do. I suck on his glistening shaft, peer at him through my eyelashes. “I want to.”
Guiding his hand to the back of my head, I take in half of him and he lets out a guttural groan. My head bobs over his thickness, he tightens his grip on my hair with each thrust and I moan between sucks, tearing up slightly. His dick hits the base of my throat, I fight my gag reflex at the impact, let him slide out and right back into my mouth. His hips jerk forward, he shoves his length into my mouth until it spurts his liquid down my throat.
Our foreheads meet, he lifts me to his laps and his mouth closes around my nipple. I hiss, ignoring the voice in my head shouting we are getting distracted again. With a deep sigh, I pull his head away to kiss his nose and he stares me down with a cute frown.
“Are you ready for your gifts?” I ask.
His hand sweeps over our bodies, his boxers which we shrugged off at some point. “This isn’t my gift?” he teases. The corners of his eyes crinkle and I shake my head furiously.
Giggles bubble in my throat, I peck him on his lips, put my breasts out of sight much to his displeasure. Sex is our normal, it doesn’t count as a gift but I loved last night’s present. A little more than I should have. Brandon steadies me as I get off his lap, I flash him a smile and turn around. He has to like this. He must like this. I need to be calm.
Anxiety waves at me as I drag my feet to the closet, I rub my clammy hands on my nightie. The excitement wanes when I see the wrapping, my heart skips. It doesn’t feel as sentimental as it did hours back and I can’t help feeling like I made a huge mistake.
A mug?
Seriously, what was I thinking? What does he need it for? Coffee, I am quick to remind myself but it doesn’t work. We have enough mugs at home. I clutch the package, taking slow steps towards him. He smiles, my fear heightens. Will he be impressed? Oh, God.
That’s the problem with having a billionaire husband, you never know what gift is good enough. He has all he needs. I swallow hard when he coughs, I don’t need him to be worried. I can’t have him worried and also disgusted because I know he won’t like it.
“Elna.”
I jump at the sound of his voice, how did he get here? My eyes lift to his face and his lips stretch into a smile. He tries to pry the small box from my hand, I shake my head, frozen.
“Wait, please.”
A yelp slips from me when he sweeps me off my feet, my arms lock around his neck and he drops me on the bed to kneel between my legs. He brings my hands to his shoulders with the sweetest smile on his lips and I groan, he’s doing it again. That thing that makes me want to spill all my secrets. I hand him the box, he eyes me warily then accepts it.
Brandon brings out the box containing a silver locket with a picture of us tucked into its small compartment. I gulp, the last time I gave him a necklace, he threw a fit. This time, he unclasps it and my shoulders sag with relief. The clearing of his throat draws me out of my thoughts, he places it on my palm. I realise he wants me to put it on for him and I do that in silence. My finger lingers on the engraved pendant, his eyes hold mine captive.
My voice is scratchy. “You like it?”
“I love it,” he replies and I release an audible sigh. “What?”
Relief has me feeling lightheaded, the weight on my shoulders disappears and I shrug. My eyes settle on the customised mug he pulls out, I snatch the key holder that falls out.
“Elna.” His voice catches, his fingers run over the words printed on the mug and I palm his face to kiss him briefly. He likes my gift, no, he loves it. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I had to, baby,” I reply. “I wanted to.” His smile is weak, I peck him on his lips. “Every time you take a sip of your dark, bitter coffee.” I fake a shudder and he chuckles. “You will be reminded you are the best daddy in the world.” I raise the key holder with the tiny selfie of us to his face. “And the best husband. My beginning, my middle, my end.”
His hands circle my wrists, a glint slithers into his eyes. An overwhelming love—or an emotion akin to that—blazes in those orbs I want to spend the rest of our lives looking at. I manage a smile. Rubbing my cheek against his, I whisper, “I love you, Brandon.”
“I love you too.”
Everything slows. My heart stops, my head rears back to view his face. “Do you believe it?” His mouth opens and closes, the excited butterflies in my belly deflate, sinking low as if in tune to the dirge replaying in my head. This hesitation is what I don’t want.
Though the small smile never leaves my lips, my insides are twisted in painful knots of realisations. I sniff. It will take a while for him to love me, longer than I envisaged.
Can I be patient with him? Maybe. Maybe not. Time will tell.
“I think I do,” he whispers. His brows crease like he is confused by his reply and I nod.
He doesn’t love me. Yet.
Love doesn’t guess, it is certain. But he does care, I can make do with that for now. I smoothen the wrinkles on his forehead, move my head left and right with a smile.
“I think I do, El,” he adds, my smile widens. “Okay, I do.”
Enthralled by his adorable honesty, I bop his nose and giggle. “Do you love yourself?”
Confusion spreads across his face. “Do you think you deserve all the good things in life?” He pales, I chuckle, shaking my head. It’s a simple question, not a death sentence. “If you can’t or don’t love yourself, Brandon, you can’t love me properly. Do you love yourself?”
He scowls, that stern look that should have sent me cowering takes over his face. I stick my tongue out, he flicks a finger on my nose. “How are you so sure I don’t love myself?”
“Do you?”
The fact he hasn’t come up with a reply yet scares me but I manage to conceal it. I stare at his handsome face, the lines appearing on his forehead. I love myself. I love him. We all deserve the best life has to offer, including him. But it’s so hard for him to see that.
Why?
“I don’t know,” he says after what feels like ages. “I am trying to, I guess.”
Touching my forehead to his, I say, “Focus on loving yourself first. I’ll love me and you enough for both of us.” He offers me a ghost of a smile that obliterates the sadness sneaking up on me. My knuckles brush his cheek, he brings my hand to his lips. “But don’t take too long because I want you to love me the right way. I love you. Always.”