“Christ, I can’t breathe without you, either, Gracie,” I say, my voice unraveling like thread, our foreheads rolling together, breath coming in short bursts. “My fucking blood flows for you. Just need my wife. My wife.”

“You’ve got me forever,” she whispers, taking off my shirt, her eyes glazing at the sight of my chest, my stomach. I inhale her reaction to my body. I crave it in an unholy way. Obsessively. I hone myself day and night for her. Just so she’ll look at me like this. Just so she’ll get wet that much faster. “You were gorgeous at eighteen. A man among boys,” she says unevenly, running her palms up the cut muscles of my abdomen. “But now…you’re so…thick.”

With a hoarse sound, I yank her to the edge of the table by her ass cheeks, pressing my hard on to the tiny white strip of her panties. “I’ve got your thick right here.”

Her head falls back, allowing me to attack her neck. Raking my teeth up and down the side, before latching onto that sensitive patch under her ear. Sucking it roughly. “I want it,” she moans, opening her thighs wider on the table. The hottest possible fantasy come to life—and somehow she’s mine. Somehow I got to marry her. Somehow she loves me.

“You know what today is, Gracie?” I rasp, humping her pussy through the white panties helplessly, making the table groan. Aching. Desperate. Always so desperate for her. To the point of pain and restlessness and withdrawals.

“Today?” She unbuttons her blouse, opening the sides to reveal the high globes of her beautiful tits, pushed up in a white, see-through bra. “I think I might have some idea…”

I study her face through a haze of lust. Love. Hope. “That right, baby?”

She hums. “Five years ago today, you drove me home from the Hellmouth,” she says, a light sheen coating her eyes. “You think I would ever forget? I wouldn’t. I’ll never forget. I got you something, too.” Her mouth moves over mine with a slow, seductive kiss, her hands pushing down the sides of my sweats to free my cock. “I stopped taking my pill this morning,” she whispers against my lips, taking me in her hand and stoking me hard. “You’re already my Daddy. Now you’re going to be a father.”

My heart, my breath, my blood is firing on all cylinders as she guides me between her legs, using my stiffness to push aside the material of her panties. Is this happening? Is this real? We were waiting for the right time and I realize slowly…this is the right time. We made it. We have a home, jobs, money in the bank, so much love that it overflows from us.

“Gracie,” I choke out, plunging my cock to the hilt, bucking furiously, with so much force that the kitchen table moves across the floor several feet, finally coming to a stop against the counter—and I don’t quit. With her tearing at my hair, I fuck her so hard, so filthy, she screams, my come boiling in my balls, as if well aware of its purpose. Get her pregnant. Give us a child.

It’s like I’ve dropped through the floor of my obsession with my wife and found a whole palace beneath—and there’s no end to it. No exits—as if I’d look for one. I grip her perfect face, tilt it up and look her in the eye, letting her see that I’m crazed now. This final permission to get her pregnant has done it. I can’t even imagine what I’m going to be like when my seed takes hold and her belly swells. God help us all.

“I love you,” I chant between kisses, groaning like a wild animal when she locks her ankles behind my neck, the fever in her eyes telling me she wants this as bad as I do. “I’d die for you, Grace. I’d kill. I’d do anything. Just love you so much. So fucking much, it burns.”

“I love you the same way. Look at me. You know I do.”

And she’s right. It’s a two-way street, thank God.

This love, this obsession is a stick of dynamite with a fuse on both ends.

Anchored by the love of my life, I keep right on looking into her blue, beloved, reassuring eyes and I see our future, feel part of it leave me and enter her in waves, already taking root. I welcome every second of that future. Every second of her. Us. Always.

THE END

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