Page 7 of Brood (After the End #5)

Chapter Three

Three weeks later, and I might be pregnant.

My period should have started three days ago, and it hasn’t yet.

I have an exam and blood test scheduled for two days from now. They won’t waste the resources until a woman’s period is five days late. But I’m hopeful. I’ve been kind of blah and tired and stomach-churny all day. Maybe because I’m pregnant.

Will and I have been having sex every evening, and I assume we will this evening too, even though I’m not energetic.

If I’m not pregnant already, tonight might be when it happens. I’m not going to let this heavy fatigue get in the way.

Other than that hope, the past three weeks haven’t been great.

While not miserable, I go through each day with a tense uncertainty I’ve never experienced before.

I’m unaccustomed to not knowing what’s expected of me.

Not predicting how the people around me will speak and act.

I’m constantly waiting for some sort of bomb.

It never explodes, but the floor still feels shaky beneath my feet.

Will and I haven’t fought since the day after our spousal ceremony, but I don’t think he’s been happy with me.

And I can’t help wishing I could have married Danny instead.

It’s almost bedtime, but Will hasn’t returned to our quarters yet after dinner. I saw him talking with Chiefs Rosamund and Brody, so the conversation probably went long. I’ve already cleaned up, brushed my hair and teeth, and taken off all my clothes except my underwear and camisole.

My stomach doesn’t feel good. It’s too early for morning sickness, but I’m not sure why else I would feel like this.

I ate oatmeal for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch, and baked tilapia and mixed vegetables for dinner.

I’ve eaten the same meals countless times, and I know all the ingredients were fresh because I helped prepare them.

I cross my arms over my stomach and lean forward until the rumbling in my belly stops.

The door slides open as I’m straightening. Will pulls to a stop a few steps into the room. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sick?” I’m not sure he’s smiled since we married. He’s not broody or intimidating right now, but he’s eyeing me soberly.

“No. Just kind of tired today.”

“Did something happen?”

“No.” I work not to sound impatient. Sometimes he can be pushy. “Like I said, I’m tired.”

“We can take a break tonight if you need it.”

If he’d worded the comment differently—if you want instead of if you need it—I probably would have taken him up on the offer. But his word choice implies I lack the endurance to be a dutiful spouse, and that’s not true.

It’s not true.

“I don’t need a break. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” With that, he disappears into the bathroom.

He’s in there for a few minutes. I assume he pees and washes up the way I do each night, although I’ve certainly not inquired.

He takes his daily shower after he exercises in the middle of the morning, but he never smells too strongly when we have sex the way some men do late in the day.

I appreciate him taking the time to clean his body.

That’s one item on the very short list of things I like about my new spouse.

I’m still sitting on the bed when he comes out wearing nothing but the standard white briefs all men wear. He darts me a few looks as he sits on his bed.

When I don’t move, his eyebrows shoot up. “You coming over?”

“Yes.” It takes more energy than it should to push myself to my feet. He always rubs me with lube and makes me come before he fucks me, but I don’t want to stand that long today. My body is used to the size of his cock by now, and he always uses plenty of lubricant. I don’t need an orgasm first.

I’d rather just get it over with.

I strip off my clothes and climb onto the bed, getting in my normal position on my hands and knees.

He shifts sideways toward me, his expression confused.

A normal person would ask me for an explanation, but he doesn’t. He stands, pulling off his own underwear and then reaching for the tube of lubricant in his drawer.

I’m looking over my shoulder so I can see that he’s halfway aroused. As he stands staring at my naked body, his penis hardens all the way.

He’s got more hair on his groin than the photos of naked men I studied in our anatomy unit, but he also has a lot of hair on his chest and face and head, so maybe that explains it.

I have no way to judge relative sizes—if he’s big or small or average—but I like both the size and the appearance of his penis.

I like the look of his whole body. It always provokes a deep, curling sensation below my belly.

Today, staring back at him makes my neck ache, so I focus down at the white bedding instead. He squirts out liquid and rubs it between my thighs. I assumed he would lube up his erection and get going, but he doesn’t. He slides his fingers into my pussy and starts pumping them.

“You don’t need to—” My words cut off with an unexpected jolt of pleasure when he pushes into my clit with his thumb. I lower my shoulders and head so my arms don’t have to hold them up.

“I need to get you warmed up first. Works better that way.”

He’s always blunt and straightforward. In his mind, it makes practical sense to give me an orgasm first so that my body is more receptive to his sperm.

I like how he makes me feel, but breeding is more important than physical stimulation. If having an orgasm really does aid in that, I’ll accept what he gives me. I breathe deeply and try to focus on the sensations as he fucks me with his fingers.

After a minute, my skin heats up. My pussy pulses. He fits his other hand between my thighs to work on my clit. He’s not really rubbing it. He’s slapping it lightly in time with the thrusting of his hand.

I bite back a whimper as new pleasure surges.

“There it is,” he says. “Now you’ve got it.”

The sounds his hands make on my body are raw and shameless and undignified, the wet suction from his fingers in my pussy and the smacking on my clit. Even the bed is squeaking because I’m involuntarily pushing my bottom back toward his hands.

As the feelings intensify, I bury my face in his thick comforter, using the fabric to stifle my voice as I mumble, “Will, oh, Will, oh, Will,” with increasing volume.

Then the pleasure breaks. My pussy spasms around his fingers, and my body shakes through the climax.

“There you go,” I hear him murmuring behind me. “That’s better. That’s a good one.”

I’m sniffling and still whimpering as the sensations gradually fade into the occasional aftershock. He gives my groin some relieving pressure after he withdraws his fingers from my vagina.

He rubs my bottom and waits until I lift my face from the bedding before he moves on.

“I’m okay,” I tell him, even though he didn’t ask.

“We had to work for it, but you came good.”

“I know. But I’m ready. You can fuck me now.”

He rubs his erection with lubricant. He usually stands beside the bed, but tonight he climbs onto it, getting on his knees behind me and drawing my bottom into place.

He’s always quiet, and I’m too worn out to turn my head to check his face. But I swear I him let out a soft, textured groan as he finds my entrance and edges himself in.

I make another silly sound.

“Is that good or bad?” he asks, rolling his hips slightly like he’s adjusting to the sensations the way I am.

“It’s good. It…it feels tighter than normal. You feel…bigger.”

He lets out a wordless grunt and gives a tight buck of his pelvis. But his voice is calm and natural as he replies, “You came pretty hard. And you’re still gripping me real tight.”

“Is that okay?”

“Oh yeah. It’s just fine.”

Relieved, I focus again on breathing and relaxing my pelvic muscles as he builds up a rhythm of steady pumps.

He’s holding my hips like usual, but this evening he’s actually pulling my bottom back toward his groin each time he pushes forward.

It tightens the thrusts and somehow stimulates more nerve endings.

I gasp on each thrust because it all feels so good. Soon my thick inhales turn into little outbursts of sound.

I’ve always liked how it feels when he moves his penis inside me, but it’s never been this intense. The sensations are rising the way they do when he uses his fingers on me. So big and deep and fast that it almost scares me.

I release a small sob and hide my face in the covers.

“It’s okay,” he says, gruff and breathless. “It’s okay. Don’t fight it. Just let it come.”

Turning my head again, I suck in air and let out another helpless sound—much louder than I would have chosen were I able to control my voice. My skin is blazing. My hair is falling all over my face, sticking to my damp cheeks. My nose is running, and my eyes blur with tears.

And nothing has ever felt like this in my entire life.

“You’re doing good.” Will is going fast and hard now, still pulling my bottom backward into each thrust. “You’re almost there.”

I cry out as the orgasm overtakes me. It starts in my pussy and radiates through the rest of my body. Fluid is leaking out and trailing down my inner thigh, and it’s a lot more than the lubricant he used. I hide my face again so I can muffle my volume.

“Fuck,” he rasps out. He’s barely thrusting now. Just holding me in place and grinding into me. “Fuck, Cadence. Take…it…all.”

He comes on the final word, jerking almost clumsily against my bottom as he works through his release. I feel every spurt of his release, and it excites me to a ridiculous degree. That he’s coming like that. Filling me.

It takes a long time for me recover afterward. He holds his position for a while before pulling out, making sure none of his semen drips.

I’m still shaking slightly with the aftermath and trying to catch my breath as he gets up to go to the bathroom. I haven’t moved when he returns.

He stands and looks at me for a moment. Then he leans over to pick me up and carry me to my own bed, where he settles me gently on my back. I lift my knees to keep holding his ejaculate inside me.