Rare and Precious Things (30 page)

I settled my hands beneath her bum and we started to go at the fuc
king in earnest—me thrusting up and lifting, her riding up and down my cock with a little squeeze of her muscles and a twist of her hips. We made it last as long as we could, slowing down just enough to keep us on the edge. I let her keep the pace she liked. We’d be at this for as long as she wanted. I was always all about pleasing my girl, and thought she was so goddamn sexy when she got desperate for my cock and didn’t want to wait for it. I loved working her up into a fuck-frenzy to pull us both over the edge when it was time for us to fall.

She rea
ched her hand around and found my sac, squeezing my balls and my cock simultaneously, flipping my switch.

And
propelling the pace of our fucking into overdrive.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby. My cock feels so good inside you!
I want you like this forever. I’ll never stop crawling up…inside…YOU.”

“Don’t ever stop, Ethan. I don’t ever want you to stop.”

“Never, baby…I’m doing this for the rest of my life.”

I brought a hand forward to find her
soaking clit and circled it as she continued to ride me. Tonight I wanted to come with her—both of us at the same time. It was important to me. I wanted to feel her spasms when the top of my cock shot off inside her. I wanted to swallow her cries when my tongue owned her mouth, and I savoured the sweet flavour of her.

Of course, I had to stop eventually
, after I’d made her come, screaming my name. And after I’d poured everything I had deep inside her. It was the meaning behind our words that were significant, not the literal definition. I would never stop loving Brynne, and fucking wildly at times was definitely part of demonstrating that love. We had always been on the same page with the sex. Thank the gods for whichever one of them blessed us in that sector. I was under no delusions about how unusual and rare it was to find someone so compatible.

I lifted her off my hips, settling her on her side
so we could face each other. I still needed to be able to look into her eyes and kiss her afterward. She was sleepy and soft from climaxing, and I worried that maybe what we’d just done was a little too much, and too rough for her more advanced stage in the pregnancy.

“Was
all of that okay, baby? Maybe we shouldn’t have been so rough at it.” I traced her lips with my finger. She opened her mouth for me and I slipped my finger in between her lips. She closed them in on my digit, wrapping her warm tongue around it, sucking gently. I felt my cock twitch and start to harden up again.
Not happening, you fucking Neanderthal. You can’t.

“Mmm hmm, don’t worry. I feel wonderful right now,” she murmured with her eyes barely open. “I needed that
orgasm. Badly. And I love you…”

“
And I need to kiss you now,” I said, dipping my lips to hers, our heads resting on the pillows.

So
I kissed my girl, and told her all of the things that were important for me to say to her, and necessary for her to hear from me, until we fell asleep, tangled together, our bodies touching wherever we could comfortably connect.

I felt
something different. Utter contentment…and peace. It was the first time I could ever remember feeling that way, and I prayed it wouldn’t be the last.

7th February

Somerset

“THAT
would be the last of the deliveries from London, Mrs. Blackstone. I’ll have to assemble the crib tonight when my helper has some free time.” Robbie winked at me. His “helper” would be Ethan, who wanted to be part of putting the crib together.

“Oh, I know, Robbie, he’s been reminding me about it. I’m sure he’s been reminding you
, too. Ethan just wants to make sure the crib is assembled correctly so it’s one-hundred-percent safe. It’s the security-guy thing in him. It crosses over into all aspects of our lives, as I am sure you already know,” I said sarcastically.

Robbie laughed and headed out
, but he turned back before he left the room. “Does Sir Frisk need to have a trip outside before I have to head out?” he asked me.

“I don’t know, maybe he does,
although he looks pretty happy where he is right now.” I peered down at Sir who was sprawled out on the new rug, blinking up at me with his gorgeous golden eyes, and asked, “Do you want to go outside with Robbie?”

He didn’t budge. And I was certain he understood my question. My
Sir was super smart, and he loved me best.
Doggy love for the win.

“Guess not right now, Robbie. He’ll let me know when he needs to go out
, and I want to take a walk later anyway.”

“Very good, Mrs. Blackstone
.”

I
returned to my mural painting for the nursery after Robbie left. He and his wife, Ellen, took really wonderful care of Stonewell, both when we were here, and when we were in London. Robbie had grown a soft spot for Sir Frisk too, which was a nice thing, as he would always stay here. None of us could imagine confining such a creature to a London penthouse flat. It just wouldn’t be right. I’d miss him very much though, and we planned to go back in another week so there were no chances taken with me going into labor early. Ethan was paranoid about it, and as usual, I let him have his way.

This mural was of the sea instead of a tree. Some of the elements were still a question until we knew if we had a Thomas or a Laurel. I smiled as I worked on some of the white cloud shapes, remembering
how Ethan interrogated me this morning about the paints I was using for the project, and
were they water-based, non-toxic mixtures
? He was always so cautious about everything, but I knew it was just because he loved me so much.

He’d been worried last night a
fter the mega-amazing sex session too, which I thought was unwarranted. I felt fine, and from all that I’d read in the literature about pregnancy and birth, sex was perfectly safe for couples as long as there weren’t complications, and you felt up to the task. Well, I certainly did. And Ethan always was “up” for it. I think we were both really desperate for the intimacy and closeness after our scare with his accident. Nothing prioritized life faster, or more effectively, than the
near death
of a loved one.

We’d come too close to losing each other. I shuddered at the thought and went back to shading fluffy white clouds over a sparkling blue-green sea.

SIR hovered on his haunches, ready to spring the second I let his favorite rag bone fly. “Go get it, boy.” I let it go, putting my high school shot-put skills to use. He tore off to find it in the natural plantings at the edge of the lawn, happily rooting around and enjoying himself. I sat on one of the garden walls and waited for him to come back.

Feeling a little bit of backache earlier, I’d hoped an easy walk with
the dog would help, but it hadn’t. The dull pain was still there, and I wanted a hot drink. I pulled my sweater shawl closer to ward off the chill. It was wintertime after all and I was grateful for the dry day, but checking out the dark clouds above, it looked like it would be raining in another hour or so.

I called Sir back over to me, and stood up to go back inside the house. The weirdest sensation of heat
hit me between my legs. It lasted for about two seconds before it didn’t feel warm anymore. I was wet down there. A lot wet. Like I’d pissed my pants, but I knew I definitely had not.

I
freaked for a moment, afraid it could be blood, but when I touched the area of my leggings, my hand came away clear and wet, not bloody. I put my fingers up to my nose and smelled it. Not pee, just wet... Water…

Shit!

I figured there was a very good chance my water had just broken.

Double shit!

RUNNING Blackstone Security from Somerset was really working out quite well. I’d put in the same communications system I had in the London flat, and conducted my business in the same way as before. Neil was running the executive offices in town, and keeping the cogs running smoothly to the point I don’t think I was even missed. I’d have to give some serious thought to what my role would be in London for the future. The idea of staying here at Stonewell for more than just weekends was an appealing one. I knew Brynne loved the country, and had even been in contact with her art advisor at University of London about organizing some evaluative study of the paintings at Hallborough. After the discovery of the
Sir Frisk
painting belonging to Mallerton, she’d been thoroughly charged up with discovering what other secrets might be hiding in the old house. She told me there was plenty of work there to keep her busy for years, if the proposal was funded.

The sound of
a barking dog assaulted my thoughts. Incessant, non-stop, frantic barking. This wasn’t like Sir at all. He was usually fairly quiet, which was a trait I liked about him. He was a good dog, but what I was hearing sounded like he was agitated. I wondered if somebody was outside on the property.

I stood
up from my desk and used the crutches to head over to the window. My study overlooked the back gardens and then the coastal sea beyond it.

I could make
out Sir, barking frantically in the direction of the house with his head pointing up at the sky.

He was beside
Brynne.

She
was sitting on the garden wall holding herself between her legs.

Her
light grey leggings were stained dark at the insides of her thighs—

Fuck. NO!
NO! NO!

“FRED, what’s going on?
Tell me something useful!” I had my brother-in-law by the collar and pulled up to my face, feeling like my heart would explode in another minute or two.

“
Stop manhandling the doctor so he can deliver your baby,” he said calmly, pushing me off him. “Go with Mary Ellen. She’ll get you scrubbed for theatre. You’re about to be a father, you big nob.”

“C
aesarean section? Really, Fred?” I croaked.

“’Fraid so, brother.
The baby is in a breech position and we can’t risk a foot-first birth for Brynne. She’s not built for it.” He slapped me on the back hard. “She’s going to be fine. Stop worrying me and go get ready.” Fred left me in the hall and disappeared into a door marked for staff only.

I gulped
and followed Mary Ellen, hoping I didn’t pass out before I got to wherever she was leading me.

“Where have they ta
ken my wife?” I asked.

“She’s being prepared for the surgical theatre right now
and getting her epidural. Dr. Greymont will walk you through the process as he does the procedure. You’ll be able to watch the whole thing, and talk to your wife throughout.” She smiled kindly. “Congratulations, Dad.”

“Really.
”

Was that myself
speaking? It didn’t sound like my voice to my own ears. Why did I keep saying
really
like a moronic half-wit? I think I was in too great a shock to process much of the events of the last two hours. After Sir had alerted me to Brynne’s situation in the garden, I’d called 999. While we waited for the ambulance to show up, I called Dr. B’s service in London, as well as Fred, in a complete panic about what to do and where to go. Then the motherfucking horror ride, with Brynne in the back of an ambulance all the way to Bridgwater Hospital—over thirteen, long, rolling, country miles. So much for planning. No posh London hospital, or society doc, would be delivering our baby after all. The worst part had been not being able to carry Brynne inside the house to wait. I had to hobble around like a fucking gimp with no idea of what was happening to her as they whisked her away for evaluation. The baby wasn’t due for another three weeks at least…

“Mr. Blackstone?”

“What?” I turned to the voice and blinked.

“You need to
remove your clothes and put these on, even the hat. Then you’ll wash your hands and forearms according to wall plaque directions, and when you’re all set, you’ll meet me just through there.” Nurse Mary Ellen pointed to where I was to end up. “I’ll take you into the theatre and you’ll be reunited with your wife, and you’ll watch your baby being born.” She looked happy.

“Oh…
real—all right.” Again, surely the bloke who was speaking in such a pathetically weak voice was some other person, and couldn’t possibly be me.

Ma
ry Ellen grinned some more. “Deep breath, Mr. Blackstone.”

“
But is everything going to be all right? It’s too early for—”

She tilt
ed her head and told me in a no-nonsense tone, “Babies have their own ideas about when to come. Nothing to be done about that. Your wife is in the best possible hands. Dr. Greymont does this all the time, but I’m sure you already know that.” She looked at me oddly, probably figuring there was more wrong with me than just my busted leg, before she left the room so I could change.