Page 128 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

“Hi, Dad,” she gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Jess came with me today,” she puts a hand on her bump, “She’s on snack duty, so whatever we need, she’ll grab it.” Connie looks at Britain’s hand resting on her bump, ignoring Jess.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” the tears rim his eyes, and he loses the fight to hold them in.

I can’t help but check on Matt, standing on the other side of the breakfast nook with flared nostrils, a tight jaw, and a look of devastation written all over him. Fucking terrible feeling, I bet.

I try to imagine what it would be like if Jess had been the one to walk in with a bump this morning, and…I don’t think I would have cared. Alright, I would have, but not like Matt is caring about Brit.

An image of Emma, with a small bump, fills my mind. I try to scratch it out of existence but fail, filing the thought away as something to ruminate over later.

“How long are you here for?” I ask Brit.

“Just till Constantine goes home from the hospital,” she says, smiling confidently. Good, we need someone with even just a smidge of optimism to lift the mood.

I ignore Jess’ presence, but I do notice she’s quiet as a fucking mouse. That’s perfect; she doesn’t exist in my reality, and she’s playing her role perfectly.

“I’m going to shower, take Milton out, and then we’ll leave?” I check the clock.

“Yeah,” Matt and Connie say at the same time.

Leaving the kitchen, I head for the guest suite on the opposite end of the house.

I strip, start the shower, and step in without waiting for the water to warm up.

The freezing water pricks at my skin, each drop a small zing, making me feel alive. Making me wish someone was here. My someone.

I bet if she was here, Jess wouldn’t have come. It would have been better that way because Constantine actually likes Emma, fuck maybe he even loves her. Not that he dislikes Jess. He’s actually said almost nothing about her to me. Ever.

I wonder what Em is doing right now. It’s cold in New York this morning. Is she back in school? Is she stopping for coffee? Is she walking past Central Park, watching the leaves start to fall? I would give a lot to just be standing beside her doing the same thing.

I can see her now. Curly blonde hair, with a beanie on, her nose pink from the cold. Mittens on, holding a travel cup in both hands as she smiles at me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.”I’d tell her because I hadn’t told her nearly enough in the past.

She would blush. Then say something back that would rip my heart out, like,“You’re so good, Alexander.”The worst part is she would believe it.

And then we’d walk home, and I’d start in on her before we ever made it past the door.

Her beanie would litter the walkway, she wouldn’t have any mittens on once we were inside. The scarf around her neck would become restraints around her wrists. And I’d push her to her knees. I’d watch as her ruby-colored lips opened for me. I’d feel my heart beating out of my chest as she huffed a breath against my pelvis once she’d taken all of me to the back of her throat.

I stroke my hard cock in the shower, imagining she’s the heat.

She would lean back, and my dick would drag across her lips as she’d say,“Anything my husband wants, he can have.”Fuck.I want her to call me that again. I want to pull out of her mouth and bend her over. Fill her up with my cum as she cries out for me.

I want to tell her,“Let me fill you, baby. I need to see you full. I want mywifecarrying my babies.”Where the fuck is this coming from?Babies, plural?The thought has heat racing up and down my spine. My thighs pull tight as I grunt, letting my cum spray against the tile wall, wishing it was inside my wife’s tight cunt because we weren’t divorcedyet.

I pant as the pulsing slows, scared at what that means. Scared of how much I wanted it. Just desperate as fuck to tether her life to mine. And it’s killing me that it never would be. Nevermine.

I dry off quickly, toss my towel over the shower rail, and walk into my room to get dressed.

“Fuck, sorry,” Jess says as she covers her eyes, blocking my nudity. Whythe fuckis she in here?

“You shouldn’t be in here,” I say coldly, grabbing underwear from a drawer and throwing a shirt on as fast as possible.

“I just wanted to say sorry,” she says, dropping her fingers from her face. Her words stop me, slowing me down as I put on my jeans.

“For what?” For being in my room when she shouldn’t be? That’s probably it.

“For…everything, Alex.” Moisture forms in her eyes. “Just everything I’ve ever done that made us like this,” she motions between the two of us.