Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Sixty-one

August fifteen. My eyes narrow at the digits circled in red ink on my phone screen. Is Josh right? Sinking my teeth into my lip, I contemplate redialling his number. Brandon's birthday is on the fifteenth, tomorrow, not the fourteenth like Josh was kind enough to point out. My hand grows clammy, I rub it on my nightgown and spare Brandon a look.

Sprawled on the bed with his head buried into the pillow, fast asleep like a child and oblivious to my confusion. A pang of jealousy shoots through me when he rolls onto his stomach and hides his face in the pillow. It will be a while before I can sleep on my back or stomach. Contrary to what the doctor said, I cannot get used to sleeping on my side.

Maybe in a few more weeks, I might adjust to it, now, it’s a punishment. Sleeping on my back feels like a luxury I abused, every position is comfortable long enough for me to get tired and upset. They should have asked questions, told me the nitty-gritty involved in a pregnancy. Who knows? I might have requested the contraceptives from Sophia myself.

Another wistful look at Brandon, a content sigh escapes him and my jealousy morphs into resentment which fades as quickly as it comes. I dump the phone on the drawer and exhale, we made the baby together, I need to stop hating on him or I will push him away.

Tapping two fingers against my temple, I wait for my rising anger to subside. These mood swings are terrible. I tear up a lot, over nothing. One minute, I am delirious with excitement, the next second, I am furious for no reason. Why am I upset? I know why.

In a heartbeat, I pick a pillow and slam it on Brandon’s head. He bolts upright from the bed, gaze darting right, left, centre until it lands on my beautiful, calm self seated at the edge with a saccharine smile. A groan slips from him, the panic in his eyes recedes. With a sigh, he lowers himself to the bed, already inching close to wrap his arms around me.

“Elna.” Brandon sounds upset but I don’t care, he can’t be asleep. “What was that for?”

Careful to tuck his arms below my breasts, he pecks my cheek and I frown. I don’t need him to be all lovey-dovey right now. It is not a big deal but it hurts. I peel his hands from my body but they come right back and I hiss when his fingers brush my nipples again, it wasn’t a mistake on his part. He knows I will always want him. I can’t resist his charms.

He rubs my bump through the material of my nightie, I try to focus on the window, the overcast skies when he traces the lace of the plunging neckline. I should have worn the robe. Or not. I grunt. A moan spills from me when his hand slides down to cup my core.

“Stop,” I let out in a feeble whisper. “Brandon.”

Tilting my head to litter kisses on my neck, his beard brushes my skin, he slides a finger inside me, moving torturously slow until I suck in a sharp breath and bring his free hand to my breasts. Arching my back, I sink my nails into his knees. I need him to continue.

“Wifey, do you want me to stop?” I manage to shake my head as my walls tighten around his fingers and my head falls back in a moan “What did I do? Why are you mad at me?”

The blissful sensations come to a crushingly painful halt at the withdrawal of his fingers, my hooded eyes jerk open and I whimper. To pacify me, he rubs the inside of my thigh, maintaining an inch from my dripping wetness. I nod my approval as one firm hand closes over my eager breast and grind my butt against his limp manhood. My hand settles on the headboard, I grip it when he pulls a nipple and licks a wet trail to my ear.

“Come back,” I say when he disappears from behind me. He appears in my line of vision, flashes me a seductive wink and kneels between my legs. “W...what are you doing?”

“Lie on your back.”

“But...”

The protest dies on my tongue at his arched brow, I nod and my back connects with the bed. During sex is the only doctor-approved time for me to do as Brandon instructed.