Reason Enough (4 page)

He rubbed the taut curve of my too-full belly. “I can help you work it off.”

“Oh, sure. Just roll me onto the bed like that girl from the Willy Wonka movie.”

“Veruca Salt?”

I laughed. “No. The one who ate the pill that turned her into a blueberry.”

Dan turned me sideways to look at us both in the mirror. “You’re not blue.”

“But I am round. God, why did I eat so much?”

“You were making sure you had enough sustenance to get you through the night?” He waggled his brows.

I rolled my eyes. “Riiiiight.”

His hands, though, were working their usual magic. He moved them up and down my sides, over my hips. Over my belly, which most definitely could benefit from a few hundred sit-ups. Between my legs.

“I like you curvier.” Dan’s fingers played along my inner thigh and a little higher.

“You haven’t ever known me as anything but curvy!” The light, tantalizing touch forced my voice into a seductive breathiness. “You have no basis of comparison.”

“You’ve been thinner.” Dan’s other hand ran up my side to cup my breast. “When I met you. Just before we got married. Last year when you were deciding whether or not to quit your job.”

My feminine sensibility demanded I be affronted, even though I knew he was right. “Gee, thanks for reminding me.”

Dan pulled me closer, so our naked bodies touched. He looked deep into my eyes. “I like you better with a few extra pounds on you. It’s not bullshit.”

I was only slightly mollified. “Why on earth do you like me better when I’m fatter?”

“Curvier,” he corrected. He dipped his head to kiss the swell of my breasts, then to suckle each nipple.

My breath quickened. His hand moved between my legs, finding my heat and slickness. He suckled a little harder, and my pulse skipped in all my secret places.

Dan kissed his way up to my shoulder, then my neck, then at last to my mouth. His cock got hard between us. Even with a few extra pounds on my belly I had no trouble feeling that. When he pulled me toward the bed, I didn’t protest.

We lay on soft, smooth sheets that warmed quickly beneath us. He kissed me endlessly while his hand moved between my legs. He dipped a finger inside me and drew it up to slide along my clitoris. He knew just how to touch me, over and over, until I went boneless under him.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he told me. He had a knack for knowing just what I wanted without me ever having to say it.

I did, and clutched the pillow as he moved behind me. Dan stroked his cock along the edge of my cunt, wetting himself before he pushed inside me. He did it slowly, half an inch at a time, until I pushed back to force him inside me all the way.

We both moaned. His hands gripped my hips. I imagined how I must look in front of him, how the line and knobs of my spine would stand out as my back curved. I buried my face in the pillow and lifted my ass in the air, changing the angle so he could go deeper.

Dan went deeper. There were times when I felt he’d never fill me entirely, times when I counted my empty spaces and knew they’d always stay that way. There were times when this mattered to me, very much, and times I secretly despaired…but there were more times like this, when those small and secret empty places became insignificant.

He stroked deep inside me, and I opened my body to take him all the way. His thrusts got faster. He leaned forward, the heat of him all along my back, and reached around to press his hand to my clit.

I was close enough that he didn’t need to do much stroking. The force of each thrust moved my body against his hand. Pleasure built bit by bit as he fucked into me. It lasted forever.

Sometimes I came fast and hard, but now I rode on waves of slow, steady climax. My orgasm built, receded and built again. My body tightened as we moved together, as Dan thrust faster. Heat flooded me and I bit down on the pillow to hold back my cries.

Our bodies slapped. I was so wet I felt slick heat sliding down my thighs. I breathed in the soft scent of fabric softener and the linen spray I used on the pillows; when I turned my head the heavy, familiar musk aroma of our fucking surrounded and overwhelmed me. I gulped in air saturated with our lovemaking. I wanted to drink it, eat it. I wanted to survive solely on the touch and taste and smell of the man behind me, and the pleasure sending me whirling into mindlessness.

“Count them.” Dan’s voice, thick with desire, trailed off into a groan. “Count them for me.”

My longtime habit of counting in my head had diminished over the months we’d been married, but when he told me to now, I didn’t hesitate. “One,” I gasped as my first orgasm burst over me. “Two,” I groaned a minute later as the second burst inside me.

And later, not much later, “Three!”

Three was the most I could manage. I shuddered with the last climax. My fingers dug furrows in the sheets. Dan thrust once more inside me and came with a shout that made me smile.

He paused for a minute before moving in and out of me a couple more times, then withdrew and collapsed beside me on the bed. A gush of hot fluid surged down my thighs, and I let out a cry as I clamped my legs together.

He laughed. “Sorry.”

He wasn’t, but I didn’t care. “Feh. Hazards of the sport.”

I rolled onto my back, making sure to position myself on his side of the bed with a grin he didn’t notice at first. When he did, he rolled onto his side to put his hand on my belly. He nuzzled into my shoulder.

“You’re going to make me sleep on the wet spot?”

“Absolutely,” I said with a sigh of utter satisfaction. Already my eyes were trying to flutter closed, and I stifled a yawn with the back of my hand.

Dan snorted softly. “Nice.”

His hand made hypnotic circles on my stomach. I would have to get up in a minute to use the bathroom, to brush my teeth. Take a shower. But for now it was too nice, lying here with him, for me to move.

I put my hand over his to stop it from moving. I thought about Marcy, the swell of her giant belly in front of her like something belonging to another person. It was another person. She’d complained vociferously about getting fat, but I’d never really believed she meant it. She’d always said it with a hint of smug satisfaction, her hands on the mound of her stomach, holding it as though it were a prize.

“Do you really like me curvier?”

I’d been ready to fall into sleep, but Dan was almost there. “Mmm,” he muttered.

“Why?” I whispered as I threaded my hands through his hair. I didn’t really expect or need an answer. No matter what Dan said, I was going to love and hate my body in equal turns.

“It means you’re happier,” he mumbled against my skin, and fell silent.

It wasn’t what I’d expected him to say, but I knew he was right. I waited until he started snoring before I slipped from under his grasp and went to the bathroom to run the shower. I washed away the evidence of our lovemaking, but slowly, letting the hot shower soothe aching muscles and relax me even more.

I did some of my best thinking in the shower, and the day had given me much to think about. What Dan had said was true. I had been thinner before, with hollowed cheeks and hip bones jutting from my skin, mountains on either side of the valley of my belly. I’d been able to count my ribs and see the delicate bones of my wrists. Now my flesh curved smoothly, without wrinkles, over all of me, and though I was nowhere near overweight, there was also no way to deny the difference. And I was happier—that was also true.

I was happy with Dan, our marriage, our life. Our house. My job, which had been precariously balanced a few months ago, had worked out in favor. With my brother back in the area and my relationship with my mother on steadier ground, I had a glimmer of a family life, not to mention that Dan’s mom and dad had embraced me as the daughter they’d never had. I had friends, health, success.

And I cried, thinking of all of it, and how easy it would be to lose it all, and of how terrified I was of that happening.

Tears disturb and confuse men, but women know the relief they can bring. I didn’t cry because I couldn’t deal with my life, but because I could. The hot water hid the sound of my sobs and washed the tears from my cheeks before I could even taste them. I cried for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, and when I was done, I turned the water to icy-cold needles that stabbed me but refreshed me at the same time.

Stepping out onto the bath mat, I didn’t criticize my flesh, or obsess over the jiggle of my thighs. I scrubbed my face and combed the tangles from my hair and I slathered cream on every inch of bare skin I could reach, but I didn’t worry if there was more bare skin to cover than had been available a few months ago.

I turned sideways to look at my stomach in the mirror. It curved, but nowhere nearly as much as it would if I were pregnant. I put my hands on it, imagining the bulge. Thinking of how my breasts would weigh so heavily. What on earth would that feel like?

Dan hadn’t been bugging me about the baby decision, but he hadn’t forgotten it, either. I’d seen him with Leah. I knew he wanted our child—children! I knew he believed we would be good parents. That we would love a baby.

He knew he could do it. He believed I could. I was the one uncertain of that.

My mother hadn’t been sure she could love the offspring of a stranger, even though Leah had become her son’s daughter as fully as if he’d created her. I wasn’t so foolish as to think one afternoon could change everything overnight, but I also couldn’t forget the look on my mother’s face as she looked down at my niece.

My mother had loved her children. If I wanted to be entirely charitable, I could postulate that she still did, no matter how difficult it was to see that love. And if my mother had been able to do it, if she could do it now with my brother’s child, well…maybe I could do it, too.

It wasn’t until the next night that I realized I’d forgotten to take my pill the night before. I stared at the small foil package and the extra pill with some befuddlement. I couldn’t recall ever forgetting a pill before, not in all the years I’d taken them.

I knew the importance of taking them both, doubling up to prevent them from failing, but when my fingers made to punch out both pills, they hesitated. What if I didn’t take the one I’d missed, but just kept on with the week as though I’d taken it?

I could have calculated the risk easily enough, if I’d had the statistics in front of me. I was very good with numbers. All I did instead was to pop the regular pill in my mouth and toss the other down the drain.

“Everything okay?” Dan looked at me from over the edge of his book. He’d started another garishly covered paperback, but he put it aside with his finger marking his place when I crossed to sit on his side of the bed.

“Yes.” I took the book from him and settled it on his nightstand.

“Ah.” Dan took off his glasses and put his hands behind his head. “You’ve come to ravish me.”

“I have.” We smiled. I ran a finger down his chest to where the sheets covered him. When I pulled them aside, I shook my head in mock scolding. “This doesn’t help.”

He looked at the soft cotton pajama bottoms. “Take them off.”

I stood. “You take them off.”

He grinned and hooked his thumbs in the sides, but I held up my hand. “No. Not like that.”

I took a seat in the rocking chair and gestured at him to stand up. “I want to watch you.”

The pajamas were already tenting when he got out of bed. “Do you want me to put on some music?”

“No.” I kept my face stern even though I wanted to giggle. I didn’t want to laugh; it would ruin the mood.

Dan stood in front of me, thumbs hooked in his waistband. “You want me to just strip ‘em off, or what?”

“Surprise me.” I parted my legs so the hem of my short nightgown rode up. I was naked beneath.

I loved the way his eyes gleamed and the way his tongue snuck out to swipe across his lips. Dan didn’t have to worry about extra curves. He had been blessed with good genes. Now he eyed me, one hip cocked.

I inched my hem higher and ran a hand over the soft patch of hair between my legs. I wasn’t stroking myself. Not yet. But there was definitely the promise I might start.

He had such a playful side. It was sexy. Now, watching me, Dan ran his hands over his chest. Up and down, then over his belly. He traced the lines of muscle in his abs and the indentations of his ribs. He licked the fingertips on both hands and circled his nipples. It should have been silly, but my throat tightened.

He didn’t do a bump and grind. It was more like a slow, easy exploration of his body. He kept his gaze locked on mine the whole time, too. My hand slid again, and this time found my clit. I moved my finger in small circles as I watched him touch himself the way I wanted to be touching him.

He turned around to slide the waist of his pajamas down just far enough for me to see the small patch of hair at the base of his spine. I loved to lick that spot. He loved me to lick it. He eased the elastic a little lower, then lower again, to reveal the crack of his ass. He tossed me a look over his shoulder and turned, pulling the waistband up again.

“Tease,” I murmured.

He laughed softly and pushed the cloth down in front until the first fluff of his pubic hair showed. He’d offered once to shave down there, but I’d protested. Now he just kept himself trimmed. I held my breath as he pushed the pants lower, lower…