98 - Bump in the Night

“Thank you for going tonight.  I had the best time.”

They had just returned to the Four Seasons and were now enclosed in their suite, all alone.  Sheridan folded her coat over the back of an armchair and turned to face her husband, her rear propped on the back edge of the same chair.  After putting the insulated tiramisu container on the table and slipping out of his own jacket, he stepped in to brush a kiss over her mouth.

“Seeing the girl I fell in love with again was thanks enough.  I had a good time, too.”

Hands creeping up to his shoulders, she locked her wrists behind his neck and tilted her head quizzically.  “I don’t know what that means.”

Broad hands settled over her hips, his thumbs stretching inward to stroke the protrusion at her waistline.  “It means, since the first of the year, you’ve gone from being a happy, confident, carefree creature to bearing the burdens of the world.  I hate seeing you like that.”

She felt like she was bearing the burdens of a very large world most days, but she didn’t realize she was doing such a visibly poor job of coping.  So much for harmonious tranquility in the Bongiovi household.  It was just one more thing that had her feeling dismally inadequate.  Every time she turned around, it seemed like she was doing something wrong.  Jon was upset because of her articles, the way she felt – or didn’t feel – about the baby, the press. 

“This is in no way intended to be arrogant, but I’m used to being good at whatever I do.  Do you know that about me?”

“I do, and I’m the same way.”

“Then maybe if I tell you this, you can understand what’s going on a little bit better.”

Sheridan wasn’t the type to throw herself a pity party.  It simply wasn’t in her nature to bemoan the valleys of her life.  When she was faced with problems or issues, she worked through them, researching and gathering information from whatever source was available, until she had clawed her way back to the mountaintop. 

Unfortunately, sometimes you just couldn’t find the answers that would haul you up that steep incline.  Sometimes you just had to grin and find a way to enjoy – or at least accept – the valley that you’d gotten yourself into. 

She was stuck in a valley.  On a hamster wheel.  Running and running and running, feeling like she should be getting someplace when all she got was tired. 

Now how did she convey that to him without seeming like she felt sorry for herself? 

Sighing softly, she unlocked her wrists and brought her hands to rest against the front of his sweater. 

“I sold my very successful business so that I could live my life to the fullest,” she began.  “Since then I’ve been floundering.  Nothing has been the success I wanted it to be.  Massage therapy turned out to be a bust.  Aromatherapy was just a time-wasting hobby.  Our pleasantly casual relationship took a one-hundred and eighty degree turn when I accidentally got pregnant like some dumb teenage girl.  My writing makes you apoplectic.  The media circus that follows you – and now me – around is like some foreign country to me and I don’t speak the language.  Everybody wants me to be all googly-eyed over the stranger that’s taken up residency inside of me and all I can think of is a mile-long list of things I have to do for that stranger.  The only success I can claim is that I screwed all these things up with the right man.”

“Oh, baby.”  Warm palms slid up her back, pressing her shoulder blades so that she would lean into him. 

Sheridan stiffened against his hold refusing to succumb to the compassionate embrace.

“I’m not asking for sympathy, Jon.  You called me a seizure-riddled cat once.  It was a fair assessment at the time, but now that cat has ice-skates strapped to its feet.”

He laughed out loud and she succumbed to his renewed insistence that she lean on him.  Resting her cheek against his shoulder and roping her arms around his waist, she declared quietly, “I will be the best damn epileptic, ice-skating cat you’ve ever seen.  It’s just going to take some time.”

“Kitten…”  He snorted, presumably at the irony of his nickname for her in that moment.  “Honey, you’re the only one who sees you as unsuccessful.  I may not always show it, but I think you’re doing a helluva job with the shit that’s been thrown at you.”

Frowning, she lifted her head and looked into eyes brimming with sincerity.  The love and confidence that swam with that sincerity gave her the courage to pose, “Then can I ask you a question?”

 “Sure.”

“Do you really love this baby already?  In the beginning, you weren’t any happier about this pregnancy than I was.  Can you honestly tell me that you’re all googly-eyed over this bump?  That you love it like you do Stephanie or Jesse or Jake or Romeo?”

He sighed and she figured he was likely trying to dredge up some semblance of patience.   Sheridan knew her obsessive lack of emotion toward their child was trying for him, but she couldn’t help it.  It was what it was and she would do anything to change that.  Including rehashing this thing... again.

“Love manifests itself in a lot of different ways,” he hedged.  “At this stage, we’re both showing our love for the little guy with our actions – creating a family and a home for him.”

“So you don’t love it like you do your other kids.”

“Him.  Or her.  Not it.”

Her face puckered dourly.  “Her.  You don’t love her like you do your other kids.”

“Thank you.”  He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose.  “No.  I don’t love him the same way.  Not yet.”

“Then why is it so important to you that I feel something?”

“Because it’s important to you.  You’re the one making yourself crazy over produce.”

She chuckled.  “That’s because everyone else is making me crazy over produce.”

“Well, no more.  Tonight helped me understand a little better, and you’re not even a little bit wrong in what you’re doing.  Suzy and Riley showed me that this is just you being you and, right now, you’re taking care of business.  You’ll let yourself feel when business has been handled.”

Tension seeped from her muscles at such an alarming rate that she thought her spine had dissolved into a limp piece of linguine.  Just that little bit of encouragement from him made all the difference in the world.  She no longer felt like he viewed her as lacking.  Like she wasn’t fit to be the mother of his child.

“So you do think I’ll love our baby the way it… she deserves to be loved?”

“Yeah.  I do.  You wouldn’t have married me if you didn’t love him.  You wouldn’t be worried about a nursery in our new house.  You wouldn’t have given up coffee and alcohol.”  He tapped her gently on the end of the nose.  “You’re making a physical and emotional home for this baby.  You love him already, but it doesn’t feel like you think it should so you’re questioning it.”

If there was any tension left, his affirmation erased it quite efficiently.  Her arms crept up around his neck again, and she placed a sweet, gentle kiss on his lips, quietly amused at their passive ‘him’/’her’ argument.  “I love you, Jon.  That’s the one thing I feel really good about.”

His left eyebrow kicked up for an instant as his lips curled up at the edges.  “I bet you’d feel good about some tiramisu love, too.  When I bury your nipples in that cold, creamy decadence… then lick and suck it clean… that’ll feel good, won’t it?”

“Mm,” she purred, nipping at his jaw and grateful to let the heavy conversation go.  With any luck, it would be the last one of its kind.  “You’ve got to let me kiss you right after though.”

“Ah yes.”  One wide hand curled over each of her butt cheeks and propelled her hips forward into his.  Sultrily grinning down into her face, he recalled, “Tasting it from my lips.  But are you sure you didn’t want to taste it on my cock?  A little sweet and salty combined?”

“Sweet first.  Then we’ll see about salty.”

Christ, would there ever be a time when he didn’t want her?  The seductive little sex kitten had her claws sunk so far into him that he didn’t think he’d ever get loose. 

“Dress off.  Now.”

Her eyes sparkled like the purest emerald he’d ever seen as she pushed the bulky part of her thumb up and over his cheek.  “But I haven’t given you your Valentine’s present yet.”

“Fuck ‘em,” he growled bending in for a nip at her collar bone.  “All I want is you… naked… doing depraved things with Italian desserts.”

She let her head fall back with a throaty chuckle that set his short hairs standing up from the balls that had just become painfully tight.  Jon took a firmer bite and that chuckle degraded into a combination purr/growl that would make a porn actress famous. 

Taking a step back, he let his voice drop a few decibels and put a little authority into it.  “Kitten.  I said to take it off.”

The left side of her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and his wife blinked coquettishly at him.  Then she very nearly brought him to his knees with the meekest, “Yes, sir,” he’d ever heard.  It took every ounce of control he’d ever had or hoped to have not to spin her around and bend her over that chair, fucking her until they were both raw.

There had to have been oysters in my dinner.

An aphrodisiac was definitely at play here, but it was possible that it wasn’t food-related.  It might’ve just been her – relaxed, confident, alluring, sexy Sheridan. 

Impatient at the time it was taking her to shimmy that damn sweater up over her head, Jon snatched it from her and whipped it over her head.  As it landed somewhere in his periphery, the dick that was already hard enough to cut diamonds got that much harder. 

This gorgeous woman in those black high-heeled boots – matched up with a lacy black garter belt, stockings, panties and bra – was enough to make a man grovel.  But when he caught sight of the delicate swell peeking out from the middle of all that lascivious lingerie…

That’s my baby… and my baby.

He knotted the fingers of his right hand together with her left and spun on his heel, picking up the Mezzaluna bag as he dragged her along behind him.

“Jon!” she sputtered with a feminine giggle, very nearly tripping over her own feet as he hurried her into the suite’s bedroom.  “What’s the matter with you?”

What was the matter with him?  He didn’t have words to explain what was the matter with him.  There was so much testosterone and adrenaline pushing through his bloodstream right now that he couldn’t form a coherent thought.  The little head was definitely in charge, and it was anything but little as it strained to break free from behind his zipper.

The boobs that she’d been mercilessly teased about tonight bounced when he pushed her butt onto the bed and tossed the paper bag alongside.  Capturing one ankle in his hand, he worked the long zipper down until he could pull on the spiked heel and let the boot hit the floor.  The second one quickly followed, as did every stitch of clothes he was wearing. 

“Jon?” she whispered, anticipation and uncertainty highlighted by the color in her cheeks.  “Talk to me.”

Reaching for the bag, he unceremoniously withdrew the Styrofoam container and let the bag drift to the floor with everything else.  Shaking his head, he flipped open the little box.  There would be no words that weren’t absolutely necessary.  He didn’t want to dull the sharp edge of desire that he wanted to cut them both to ribbons with.

“Lay down.” 

The terse command was thick and unrecognizable as his voice.  Goose bumps sprang up over her arms and her chest flushed as pink as her face when she scooted herself up the mattress and did as he ordered.

Mounting the bed on his knees, he buried two fingers in the creamy mascarpone.  Cocoa dust drifted away in the air when he glopped the first bit of tiramisu over their baby.  She sucked in a surprised breath at the coolness as it was swirled over and around until the swell of her belly was masqueraded by light cream.

“Jesus,” she breathed, blowing out a breath to the ceiling. 

He didn’t say anything.  His already messy fingers dipped back into the confection  and he used his ‘clean’ hand to pull down the left cup of her bra.  Jon didn’t bother actually taking the satin and lace garment off, choosing instead to push the fabric under the fleshy fullness.  This was the way he wanted to see her.  Wanted to taste her.

This time she hissed when the tiramisu made contact with her skin.  With the nipples that were so very sensitive.  He swirled it around until her nipple and aureole were all but invisible in the after-dinner delight.

“Oh, God…”

She liked it.

She was about to like it even better. 

The container was pushed aside, so impatient was he to start his feast that he couldn’t even wait to coat the other nipple.  He just bent his head and devoured the dessert and tried his damnedest to devour her in the process.  Rum, coffee, sugar, slick cream and the cocoa filled his mouth in a decadent combination, made all the more decadent by her sweet nipple that was like a hard candy in the midst of all the softness. 

Sheridan’s fingers scraped against his scalp when she buried her fingers in the back of his hair.  Those fingers were surprisingly strong, holding him close as he licked, sucked, mopped, tasted, bit and lavished every bit of the flesh and the tiramisu.  It was hard to tell the artificial sweetness from hers as he drew repetitive circles around her nipple and then sank his teeth into the underside of her breast.

“So good, baby…”

Her head writhed against the pillow and she arched herself into his mouth. 

“Nooo…”

She didn’t like it when he abandoned her nipple so that he could find the second dessert course on her abdomen.  Not at first anyway.

His tongue flattened against her skin and he dragged it up and over the mini bump that was their baby.  He could feel every curve, every nuance of their little person’s home.  Taking extra time, he was meticulous in removing each and every morsel of the tiramisu from the belly button that was already trying to turn inside out.  Around and around and around…  Flicking the tip inside had her hips jumping off the mattress.

“Jon…  Please…”

He smiled against her stomach and kissed his child before lifting his head to look at her.  His wife didn’t beg without damn good reason and he brought his left hand up to burrow beneath the inky triangle that covered her sex.   He would bet anything that…

Yep.  She was drenched.  The panties were drenched.  His hand was drenched.

“Tell me,” he breathed, breaking his self-imposed silence.

“What?  That I want you?” she panted, a fine sheen of perspiration glowing on her skin.  Her hands reached for him, scratching over his shoulders, in his hair and anyplace else she could touch.  “That you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel this way?  That I’d do anything – anything – you asked me to do?  That you have control over my body like nobody else?  Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Christ almighty.

That was it.  There was no more waiting.  It was take her or explode all over her.

Pushing the wet satin aside, he wasted no time or finesse shoving into the sucking heat that was everything he needed in this moment.  She clutched at him like a hot glove as his cock withdrew, whimpering with appreciation when he filled her again. 

Heat infused flesh stuck together and pulled apart as he lost himself in her – in them.  In the place that was theirs and theirs alone.  He rode the rocket ship that took them high into the sky… until they both cried out into the stars.

As they clung together in the aftermath, he placed a soft kiss against her forehead.  “I don’t love him like I love my other kids, but I love him.  Because he’s part of you.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, blinking away what he suspected were tears.  “Get up.”

Not exactly the response he’d expected, but seeing as she was pushing at his chest, he complied. 

Rolling to his side, he watched her slide out of the bed, adjusting her lingerie as she went to open one of the dresser drawers.  Whatever was inside fit within the palm of her hand, because he couldn’t see anything until she climbed back onto the mattress and placed something in the center of his chest. 

It was a black velvet ring box – or something like that – with a white ribbon tied around it. 

“What’s this?” he asked needlessly, turning it over with his thumb and forefinger.

“Your present.  Open it.”

He harrumphed quietly.  “I guess it’s gonna be good since you just ran off my post-orgasmic  haze for it.”

Her mouth smiled vaguely, but her eyes were busy tracking his clumsy removal of the ribbon.  She didn’t speak.

Coaching himself to be properly appreciative no matter what was inside, he flicked open the lid.  Inside was a flat, heart-shaped pendant that looked very familiar.  He had four more of the platinum charms on the necklace he always wore.  Whereas all of those bore the names of his children, this one was blank.

Jon’s eyes sought Sheridan’s. 

“Is this what I think it is?”

She nodded.  “You said from the beginning that you wanted this child to be the same as your other kids.  I figured we could get it engraved after the birth and then you can add it to your necklace.”

Why couldn’t she see that she loved this baby already?  Making sure that he carried the same importance as his siblings was just one more way of showing it.  But Jon wouldn’t push.  She’d find it in her own time, and he’d stand right by her side until she did. 

“I’ll agree to half of that.”  With a grin, he raised up and planted a kiss on her lips.  “We’ll get it engraved after the birth… but I’m adding it now.”