“Ooooh, God . . .” I shuddered, trying desperately to control the crash about to consume me, knowing it was impossible because Ethan was a master at giving it to me. He was a master at directing the sex too. His dominant nature came out in full force, controlling when I could orgasm. He would make me wait sometimes. Today was one of those times. I had no worries about the eventuality of where he would take me, though. The waiting just made what was coming at the end so much better.

“You feel like heaven down on my cock,” he said, his lips finding mine again, silencing any more words for the moment. “So wet for me . . . and your tight cunt squeezing me. I love your cunt, baby.” I waited for this part of the ritual—the dirty talk from him. Nothing could get me hotter than the stuff that came out of his mouth. Well, maybe what he actually did with his mouth. And his cock. Ethan could get away with saying “cunt” and not make it sound nasty. The word didn’t hold the same meaning among Brits anyway. It wasn’t the horrific slur here that it was back home. Ethan’s erotic ramblings made me insane with lust.

I took him in and let him have me, the merging of our tongues only gaining in intensity as he drilled into me with his c**k from below, my movements controlled by him, lifting and dropping me over and over again down onto his swelling shaft. I felt him get harder and prayed for the end to swallow me.

“Please . . .” I begged on a whimper that he swallowed up with his mouth and tongue.

“Does my beauty want to come?”

“Yes, I want to so badly!”

I felt his hands leave my ass where he’d been guiding me and move up to pinch my ni**les. “Say my name when you do.”

The sharp sting bit into me, breaking the huge wave of sensation I’d been holding back, allowing the crash to happen. “Ethan, Ethan, Ethan . . .” I chanted, collapsing forward onto him, no longer able to rein in my body. Everything became involuntary for me after that, but I was aware of him climaxing. I heard his harsh groans and I felt the heat of the spurts of cum shooting deep inside me, reminded me that this was how we’d started our baby. Just like this. Our bodies connecting in a wicked frenzy until nirvana occurred and nothing else mattered.

He held me up, his hips grinding slowly to work the very last ounce of pleasure out of this encounter. I purred against his chest and never wanted to move. Ever.

“Well, good morning to you, Mrs. Blackstone,” he said on a soft laugh.

“Mmmmm . . . it was, wasn’t it?” I moved over his hips, and flexed around his cock, still semi-hard inside me. “I’m not Mrs. Blackstone yet.”

He gasped in a breath, “Easy there, my beauty, don’t kill me off before I can make an honest woman of you.”

I laughed. “I think I’m more in danger of that than you are. God, you do crazy things to me.” I nuzzled his lips and nose, loving our time together and the knowledge that Ethan was all mine for the next little while until he had to leave for work.

He was so stretched with the Olympics and working so hard, I was determined to help him in any way I could. Giving him some mind-blowing sex to start off his day was one way, and I got to share in the benefits of that too.

“I love doing crazy things to you. I love you.” He kissed me sweet and slow. “And you’ll be Mrs. Blackstone soon enough, so you might as well get used to me saying it.”

“Okay. I think I can do that for you.” I splayed out my left hand and looked at my ring again, the dark purple stone looking almost black in the dull morning light. “And I love you too.” It still shocked me a little seeing it there on my hand. I was engaged to Ethan, and we really were getting married. And I really was having his baby. When did the bottom drop out from beneath me? I had to keep telling myself this was not a dream.

“Do you really like the ring?” he asked softly. “I know you like antiques and that was so unusual I hoped you might like it instead of something modern.” He held my face to his and rubbed over my jaw with his thumb. “But if you want a different one, just say. I know it’s not a conventional engagement ring and I want you happy in all things.”

I clutched my left hand with my right one protectively. “I love my ring and you’re never getting it back,” I teased. “You know, in certain light it almost looks black sometimes. A black stone.” I smiled wide at him.

He smiled back at me as realization dawned. “Good?”

“Very good, Mr. Blackstone. You have remarkable taste with your gifts, which are far too extravagant but that I love all the same. You spoil me rotten.”

He rotated his hips down below, reminding me our bodies were still connected. “My prerogative, and I’ve hardly gotten started, baby. Just you wait.” He winked.

“I haven’t given you any gifts,” I said, plucking at the sheets bunched under my knees.

“Look at me.” His voice was all seriousness, the teasing gone.

I lifted my eyes to meet his blazing blue ones.

“Don’t say that. It’s not true. You’ve given me this.” He took my hand and placed it over his heart. “And this.” He put his hand over my heart. “And this.” He put both our hands over my belly and left them there. “There are no greater gifts, Brynne.”

15

 The shopping expedition proved my theory that this would be an exercise in lunacy.

“What do you mean you’re not wearing these shoes?” Benny held up what had to be at least a six-inch Louboutin stiletto encrusted with crystals. “They’re hot. You can pull it off, luv. Will make your legs miles long.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “And the point of that is?”

“To look sexy?”

I shook my head at Ben. “No, darling. The point of the day is to get married, not to look like I work for an escort service.” I pointed to my belly. “Pregnant, remember?”

“Yeah,” Gaby said sarcastically at my left. “I still can’t believe you kept it a secret from me for nearly two weeks!”

“Sorry, it wasn’t intentional, and have I mentioned that it was a total shock to my system? In more ways than one.” I returned the sarcasm right back with good measure. “I’m barely starting to feel human.” I frowned. “Emphasis on the barely.”

Gaby shook her head. “I bet,” she said, looking over a rack of dresses in hopes of finding something that could pass for a maid of honor’s. “Seven weeks, Bree. We have seven weeks to get this wedding together. It’s insane.”