This is a Chris Jackson fanfiction. All events and relationships in this story are fictional and never happened. This story is for entertainment only. All characters/people are 18 or older.
Dua and I were really going to have the discussion when I got home from work. One of the two biggest discussions of our lives to that point.
The question of whether we should get married was big. And now we were going to dive into “do we want a child.”
The topic had briefly come up, but it was during quite the emotional day. We agreed to table it for one week and then readdress it when our chemistries weren’t running so high.
So, there I was. Sitting in my car after work. Just… staring at my garage like a teenager afraid to face his parents. Except instead of my parents, it was my wonderful wife. The person I cared about more than anyone else in the world.
But when I walked through that door, we were going to discuss bringing a third person into the world. Someone we both would care about more than ourselves or each other.
I swallowed the egg in my throat and got out of the car. It felt like I was entering a warzone instead of having a conversation with Dua.
The door opened before I could even put in the access code.
Dua stood before me, a bottle of our favorite cabernet in one hand and two glasses in the other. “We’re going to need these,” she told me with an anxious laugh.
Even frazzled and stressed out of her mind, she was radiant. I wanted to put a baby in her on the spot. The 1950s blue polka dot nuclear family dress she was wearing seemed like a targeted play.
I could already imagine her wearing that with swelled and tender breasts, and our child in her belly, pressing against the soft cotton.
“You might be right,” I chuckled back as I stepped into the marble white of our foyer.
After kicking off my shoes, I joined Dua in the stately—and empty—sitting room.
She was already on the couch, filling our glasses to half-way. The look on her usually warm face said she had butterflies–maybe bluejays–in her belly, too.
Deep chocolate eyes looked up at me as she held out a glass. “Were you thinking about this all day, too?”
I nodded. This was either a bad sign or a really good sign.
There was anxiousness, but also excitement for both of us.
“So… baby?” I felt stupid right out of the gate. But I didn’t know how to broach this subject diplomatically or casually.
So, Geronimo it was!
“Right, baby,” Dua said softly, staring at the blood-red wine in her glass. “I don’t…” She chewed her lip, which was adorable and confirmed to me that she was as tied up as I was.
It felt relieving that she wasn’t completely calm heading into this while I was an apprehensive mess.
We both laughed softly like it was a first date and neither of us knew what to say. Which hadn’t been the case at all for our first date, oddly enough. Neither of us could shut up during that multi-hour date.
“Let’s just dive in. Tear off bandages,” I suggested. “Why are we thinking about kids? Are we both ready to make sacrifices for Peanut?”
“Peanut?” Dua giggled. “That’s what you want to name our kid?”
“Of course not!” I responded indignantly. “That’s what I’m calling them until we know what we want to name them.”
Dua’s face lightened into a darling, fond smile. She rubbed her empty belly and whispered, “Little Peanut.”
I smiled at her reaction. My heart started beating like a hummingbird’s. We were talking about welcoming a child in the vaguest senses, and I could already feel the both of us bursting with warmth and love at the idea.
My wife wanted to have a baby. With me. It was nearly enough to make me faint.
“Babe, we’re really thinking about having a little Peanut. A little girl or little man,” I said softly, taking her hand. “The idea makes it hard not to smile.”
Dua beamed back at me. “I know.” She couldn’t keep a smile from her blindingly perfect face. “It feels like we have so much love for each other that we need to have a kid just so we have something to do with the excess,” she laughed.
“Then we’ll love that kid, and we’ll still love each other. There’ll be even more love, and Peanut will love us back, and then we’re all fucked.” I threw up my hands as if we were facing a problem that would swallow the world.
“It sounds like rainbows and kittens and all that bollocks now. But will we still be feeling this way when Peanut is two years old? My ovaries have been splooshing lately, but are we going to feel that way when we want to go on holiday somewhere, but we have Peanut?”
“Dua, babe, why couldn’t we just take Peanut with us? We just won’t be able to tie one on. I don’t get crazy anyway. I can be on Peanut duty while you put your feet up and tilt glasses back.”
Dua pouted a little. “You’re incredibly sweet, bebe, but it’s not even if all the sacrifice is coming from you.”
I shrugged. “That’s only one example of the sacrifices we’ll each have to make. I’ll have to drop back to at least part-time at the office.”
Dua’s eyes got wider than our wine glasses. “My career. How in the hell would I balance my marriage, a baby, and the life of a pop goddess?”
I chuckled at her, referencing herself as a pop goddess. She wasn’t wrong, though. Her Spotify numbers and ticket sales didn’t lie.
“That’s going to be the biggest thing, isn’t it? We’d have to rewrite the entire way you live and work, honey.”
Dua leaned back against the couch and let out a long, deep sigh. She followed it up with a swig of red.
We had hit the wall of reality.
“I had a feeling this would be the big one,” I said softly. I had to be careful with my tone. In no way, shape, or form did I mean to sound dismissive or antagonistic. It was just true; this was the biggest facet to consider.
“We met because of my career. If you hadn’t answered that question on the radio, we wouldn’t be on the couch right now. I wouldn’t have your ring on my finger, talking about a potential Peanut.”
“I know.” I leaned back and wrapped an arm around her to ease her into my side. “So much of your life is this career. Your career has given you so much of your life. But Dua…” I swallowed thickly. “You are a person. Your career doesn’t define you. You don’t owe it anything.”
She turned her eyes on me, and I felt a hot fire behind those gorgeous mahoganies. “You’re right. But I don’t owe the world a baby simply because I’m a woman.”
There was a challenge in her tone, and for a moment, I feared she thought I’d betray her to social expectations because I was a man.
“You’re right, Dua. You don’t owe the world a baby because you’re a woman. And we don’t owe the world a baby because we’re a married man and woman. You are no less of a wife if we don’t have a baby. I’m no less of a husband. The only reason we should have a kid is because we want a child. Because we’d give our everything for it to have a fantastic life.”
Dua twisted in my arms to look at me. “Do you think we’d be good parents, Fynn? Even if we were poor, do you think we could give the kid a life worth having? Or are we relying on our assets to make sure the kid has a chance? Would we be considering this even if we weren’t well off?”
“I mean, having the money doesn’t hurt. Peanut will have nicer things than I did, but we don’t want them growing up thinking that rich and famous is the right way to live.”
“Right.” Dua nodded. “Peanut will be a nepo baby, but we can’t do much about that. We can give Peanut your last name. That could help.”
“It could, but we’d have to do incredible PR work to try to hide Peanut. But hiding a kid isn’t something either of us would want to do. I’d do some Lion King shit if we had our own Peanut. But Peanut can see your career and mine. They can learn that there’s nothing wrong with either way to live.
“So, maybe we won’t be terrible parents feeding our child caviar on a gold spoon? We can have nice things, but should we still try to moderate? I’ve never raised a kid with the kind of assets we have.” I took another sip of wine. “But it still leaves how we want to handle our careers when we have the kid.”
“I know,” Dua said quietly. Her bottom lip was between her teeth again. “That’s the whale, Fynn. Am I ready to stop being Dua Lipa the pop icon and sex symbol? Am I ready to be Dua the house wife and mum?”
“I can’t answer that for you, darling. Only you can. But if you decide that’s what you want to do, I think you’ll be a great mother. And you can still write music and record. Touring might be the biggest thing to get back burnered for a while.”
Dua looked at me and I could see the war in her eyes. She wanted to be a mum, but her career was such a colossal part of her life.
“Babe, I don’t need an answer right now. We’re both young. We have time. I don’t need to get you pregnant tonight. There’s so much to consider, but don’t think we need to change your entire life if we have a kid.”
“No.” Dua’s shoulders visibly dropped.
I couldn’t tell if it was relief, or a forlorn feeling because we hadn’t resolved it in one sitting.
Then, her face shifted into a wolfish, hungry smirk. “But don’t you think it would be fun to fuck like we wanted a kid?”
I stopped mid-sip. “What do you mean?”
Dua hummed and turned to nuzzle into my neck. My arm wrapped tighter around her midsection. “What I’m saying is, wouldn’t it be fun to fuck me like we were trying?” She leaned forward, putting her wine glass on the coffee table, and then moving mine to join it. “Would you like to stick your hard prick deep inside me? Not let it out until you cum, filling me with your seed?”
I fucking loved when Dua talked dirty to me like that.
She stood up and shook her head, raven-black tresses dancing around her face. My stunning wife–the woman who I’d be obsessed with whether or not she was a mega-star—always stole my breath.
Dua slowly bent over while pulling up on the bottom of her dress.
I sat back on the couch. Watching. Just what she was showing me became obvious.
“Fuck.” I reached forward and ran my hand over her smooth, bare ass. No panties. “I love every part of you. And I love the way you tease me. Drive me nuts.”
“Would you love this body with or without little Peanut making it grow out?” Dua asked softly, her hands on the coffee table.
She was bent over perfectly, her asshole and pussy exposed to me.
Most people would describe it as vulnerable. But it wasn’t vulnerability. She was safe. Trusting me. Dua knew I would never hurt her. Knew I would never make her regret offering herself to me like that.
“Of course I would.” I massaged her ass with both hands, just marveling at how lucky I was. Her pussy was right there in front of me.
“This right here,” I said, sinking a finger into her, “is right where I would fill you full of baby batter if we wanted to bring another life into ours.” That was not the usual way I tried to get my wife hot and bothered.
Dua pushed her hips back, taking my finger deeper. “Mmm. I know what it feels like to have your load inside me. But no protection? Hoping it would take hold and give us the most precious thing in our lives?”
I shook my head, feeling like emotions and need were fogging our rational minds. “Baby, I love you, and there is no way I can’t fuck you tonight. But we’re horny and all worked up. This is not the time to fully decide whether or not we want a kid.”
“I know.” Aria dropped her head for a moment but then looked over her shoulder at me. “This is a big decision. The biggest decision. We shouldn’t make it in one night. But I still want my bebe–my husband–to fuck me. I want you to stuff that fantastic cock deep inside my tight pussy. Make me feel what it’s going to be like to put a baby in me.”
I held Dua’s gaze with my own. “We can definitely do that.” Instead of sealing the deal with a handshake, I leaned forward on the couch and pressed my face between my wife’s legs.
Dua let out this surprised, cute little hiss as my tongue teasingly licked her pussy.
“Even the first time I did this, I knew you tasted like the woman I want to spend my whole life with.”
Dua giggled. “None of the other women we played with tasted like that?”
“No ma’am.” I spanked her ass just enough to make it jiggle, and I stuck out the flat of my tongue.
Rolling my neck, I licked a hot, wide trail up her juicy cunt and then hardened my tongue to dance around her cute pucker.
“Oh! Oh my God!” Dua sighed. “You didn’t tell me this was part of the arrangement.”
I hummed out something resembling a cocky chuckle. “It’s been a while, and I know you like it.”
Dua hummed happily as I rimmed her. “I do. And you’re so good at it. I showered not too long ago, too.”
“Oh, I could tell.” I let out a small laugh. “You also know I love licking the sweat off your body.”
Dua laughed between needy moans. “Do you remember the first time you came backstage after one of my concerts?”
“You mean the concert in Glasgow?” I sank my teeth into her lovely rump. “I barely restrained myself from tearing off that sexy bodysuit you had on.”
Dua shook her hips, playfully shaking her round ass in my face as I licked her pussy.
We had done a lot of experimental things lately. We have had passionate, intimate moments. But it had been a while since we felt dirty and playful. This felt like a nice return to us.
I moved my hands down to undo my pants and took my cock out. What it would be doing in the near future was still a mystery, but it needed to breathe.
“Was that your zipper I just heard?” Dua purred and looked over her shoulder again.
My body was angled just right that she couldn’t see that my dick was out and in hand.
“I have never once regretted telling myself that your cock was the last one I’d have.” She stood up fully and turned around to face me. “Vows we don’t share aloud on our wedding day.” She giggled.
Her eyes lit up with a hunger. With fire. She watched me stroke myself to her. “I’ll never forget the night you watched me perform live the first time So many people in the audience, but your eyes on me were the most important.”
I smiled at the memory as Dua pulled her arms from her 1950s-style dress and let it fall down her magnificent body. “I had heard you on the radio. I’d seen videos. But seeing you live? Seeing the way the crowd devoured your spirit? I knew you’d be a big deal.”
Dua smirked as she straddled my lap but didn’t put me inside. Instead, she grinded against me, her pussy lips sliding along my shaft.
“So, you knew you’d be marrying a future billionaire?”
I knew she was teasing me. She knew that I’d still be right here even if she never broke out of playing local venues.
Hell, it was Dua’s idea that we do a role-play where she was the struggling artist seducing me, the big promoter, to let her headline a venue. It was hot, but something I was glad she asked me for and not something I came up with.
“I knew you’d make it big, Dua. Everything about you told me you would.” I have been accused of being a gold digger more times than she or I could count. “I was just shocked that you took me with you.”
Dua smiled as she leaned her weight into me, her lips brushing my neck. “I knew you weren’t a gold digger when you didn’t quit your day job.”
Her tongue ran up the column of my neck and to my stubble. She giggled as it scratched against her tongue. “There’s something incredibly sexy about being who I am but loving you. Watching the rest of the world scratch their heads at me being with a ‘normal guy’ while he loves me more than anyone in my ‘weight class’ could? Panty-meltingly hot.”
“Should we take this to the bedroom?” I carefully stood up, pulling her up with me. “You can’t say things like that to me and not expect me to want to worship every part of you.”
She got the clue and wrapped her legs around me. “If I ever say no to that question, bebe, get the holy water.” Her lips brushed my neck as she spoke, making me shiver.
As I walked us towards the stairs, Dua held onto me with her legs and one arm. She skillfully used the other to take hold of my cock and position it at her entrance.
With just a little shift down while still in my arms, she had sunk partly down onto my length. I felt her shiver just a little as she said, “I feel like I don’t cock warm you quite enough. Have I been negligent in my warming duties?”
I laughed deep and low in my throat as I felt Dua squeezing her perfect pussy around me. “Remember your comment about the holy water?”
“The one I just made?”
“That’s the one,” I chuckled. “That also applies here. Even if I’m not trying to cum, I love the feeling of you wrapped around me. Having you stretched around my cock is one of the most relaxing things in the world when I’m not trying to drive you through the mattress.”
We reached the top of the stairs, but I had no intention of putting her down until I could lay her on our bed.
“You’re such a romantic,” Dua teased as I held onto her ass with one hand and opened our bedroom door with the other.
We were the only two living here now that Rina had moved out. I had no idea why we bothered closing our bedroom door.
My knees touched the edge of the bed. I had a feeling that Aria knew we had arrived at our destination.
Dua didn’t seem to be in a hurry to be put down. She kept fluttering around my cock with her kegels and refused to release me from the heated kiss we were sharing.
When she broke our kiss, she was staring into my eyes and subtly bouncing in my arms. The way she was shallowly fucking herself on me made me freeze and just let her do it.
I loved it when we used each other to find our pleasures. It was even better when we both benefitted from the action, but neither of us were above nor below being the other’s release object.
She’d come home from a particularly rough recording session or come back from a concert or tour and be incredibly high-strung and exhausted. I would order her to sit in a chair and spread her legs for me. She wouldn’t be allowed to get up until I made her climax three times with my mouth and fingers.
On the other hand, I always let Dua know when I was coming home from the office. She always asked how the day was. If I said it was particularly miserable, she would be on her knees by the door when I came in.
I never asked. She enjoyed it. It was a way for me to de-stress, and it was a form of role-play that she loved.
“Bebe, I want you to fuck me against the wall for a bit.” Dua’s breath was hot on my ear as she made her request. And then her teeth were lightly tugging on my earlobe as I changed course.
Dua sighed deliciously when the flushed skin of her back pressed against the cool, white wall. She started to bounce with more vigor, her arms anchored a little more firmly around my neck.
I wasn’t fucking her against the wall. She was fucking me with her back against it. There was a difference.
I let her have that power, that control for a moment before I did as she asked. Sinking my teeth into the flesh between her shoulder and neck, I surged forward. I filled her until my balls flipped up and slapped her ass.
“Fuck yes!” She gasped and licked the shell of my ear.
Dua was never a pillow princess unless I tied her down and made her be one. This situation was no different as she dug her heels into my ass like spurs.
She was so fucking tight, squeezing around me and making me work for every bit of movement inside of her. If she wasn’t so wet, this would be a difficult game.
But luckily for me, Dua loved sex. She was just as horny as her songs implied, and I never felt like she was overconfident. Dua Lipa knew exactly what she was doing in the bedroom. Or in the bathroom. Or kitchen.
I never thought I was a bad fuck. But Dua taught me what she liked, and she unlocked crazy shit in me that made me feel like I could keep up with her, and frankly anyone.
Even though I saw myself as an average, normal guy, Dua loved my body. So, if I couldn’t keep up, as was the case when we first started sleeping together, she’d confidently drive.
“Just lay back,” were some of my favorite words to hear from my wife’s mouth. That hasn’t really changed.
I also know she’s a big fan of, “Just close your eyes and pull your legs up,” from me.
“Bebe.” Dua breathed the word as her hands sifted through my short hair, her body angled beautifully between the wall and my own. “I want you to lay me on our bed and I don’t want you to pull out.”
A smirk took over my face as I pulled her close to me and spun around. Admittedly, that was a practiced maneuver.
Dua Lipa was a hell of a strong, independent woman. But when it came to being in the hands of her husband, there were times she liked to be manhandled and tossed around. She was also someone who could take a pounding.
I fell right on top of her. There was no bounce, just my body on top of hers, my arms wrapped around her protectively.
Having her close to me like that also meant that I had the leverage, the hold, to just fuck into her.
“Please don’t hold back. I don’t need it gentle.” Her hands tugged at the hair on the nape of my neck.
I felt her urgency, her want to be filled and used. “I don’t think I can hold back, babe.” My hips crashed into hers as I enjoyed the feeling of bottoming out in her.
Every time I did, her breathing caught and she had to gasp, suck in air.
I drove that breath right back out of her and stole it with a kiss. Claiming her as mine. Anyone who wanted to could listen to her music, see her in those revealing outfits she loved to get the media talking with. But her heart was mine. Her body was only mine to touch.
“God, Fynn. The way you’re driving into me right now! I—I can’t!” Dua’s fingernails dragged down the plain of my back as I held her to my chest and drove into her. “Y-you’re balls! I can feel them hitting my asshole!”
I growled; low and hungry. “If you weren’t so baby-crazy, I might think about filling that sweet little hole next.” I pulled out completely and slapped my wet cock on her pussy. “Let go of me for a moment, babe.”
Dua pouted but did as asked. Then the look of disappointment on her face turned into one of surprise when I grabbed her legs and rolled her up. Before she could speak, her feet were on either side of her head.
“If you want a load inside of you, it has to be put in right.”
Dua was folded in half below me as I pumped into her. Those striking eyes were locked on mine, her teeth pressed together. “Holy shit!” She panted. “You’ve never fucked me like this before!”
“You never asked me to fuck you like we wanted a baby before.” I tried to chuckle, but most of my energy was devoted to trying to break my wife.
“If I knew this was going to happen… I’d have asked for this on our first date.” A strangled laugh came out of her but was replaced by a needy hiss.
My body was effectively pinning her to the bed, and I had an arm free to shoot between us. Her throat felt so perfect in my hand, and the way her eyes rolled back made me groan.
“Playing with the other women was fine. But if I ever have a kid, it needs to be with you.”
“Yes!” Dua cried. I could feel her trying to push up into me, to fuck me back but my weight on her was too much. “S-same hat!” She struggled to speak, and a moment later she was coming undone. “No one but you.”
Dua was groaning, crying as I relentlessly fucked her. My hand was wrapped around her delicate throat, pressing carefully. Her pulsing cunt was wringing my cock as she climaxed.
I slowed my strokes and eased my hold on her as she crested and fluttered back down. My cock slid back out of her. A rush of clear liquid, and a bit of pearly cream seeped out.
I moved over the side, letting her slowly unfold.
“You didn’t cum.” Her voice came at me with a chastising tone, her warm eyes glaring at me. “I thought I said you couldn’t pull out until you came.”
She could be so bossy sometimes!
I kissed her hard on the mouth and repositioned us. She rolled onto her side with me behind her. I lifted her top leg towards the ceiling and I thrust back in.
“Not finished with you yet, dear.” I nuzzled her sweaty neck and then licked up to her ear. “I told you I love your sweat.”
“Naughty boy.” Dua giggled and reached behind her to fondle my balls as I slowly fucked into her. “Where did all that hunger go?”
“I didn’t want to bust yet. Needed to slow down.” I spoke between kisses and licks to her skin.
“Change of pace is nice anyway.” She kept playing with my sensitive nuts as my slow strokes continued. “It feels so good. I can feel every inch of you like this.”
My teeth grazed against the column of her neck as I reached over her side to fondle one of her pillowy breasts. Her nipple was hard under my palm.
Dua’s breath hitched when I pulled on the sensitive nub. “You drive me so crazy.” Her breathing came in deep but even pants. “I can’t believe you haven’t cum yet.”
I chuckled and licked a stripe up her bare shoulder. “I got close. Damned close. Even after our play time with others, yours is still undisputedly my favorite pussy.”
Dua laughed and bent her leg, her foot hiding behind my knee. It kept her open for me but let her relax her hip. “I don’t regret that we did that. But I am glad to hear I’m still your favorite.”
I loved her dry humor. Classic British wit.
“With your permission, darling, I do feel like I want to fucking fill you now.”
Dua turned to look at me over her shoulder as much as she could. “I’ve been waiting, Fynn. Let me feel your seed inside me. I know I’ve had it before, but I want to imagine, pretend what it would be like to expect a child from it.”
I swallowed and pressed my forehead to her copper-toned shoulder.
Her foot hooked tighter around my leg as I started to pick up pace again.
Our breathing matched, synced perfectly as she let me hold her tight against me. Painted nails scratched against my scalp from behind my head. Heavy breathing filled my ears as my cock effortlessly slid in and out of Dua’s hot snatch.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” I grunted out in mantra as I enjoyed the sensation of my prick pushing in and pulling back from my wife’s depth.
Then my balls tightened, and breath became more labored. “Dua! Dua!” I repeated the love of my life’s name, and I came. Hard.
There were no words—only tight, high-pitched squeals and moans falling from Dua’s kiss-swollen lips.
I couldn’t see for roughly 15 seconds as rope after rope of hot cum splashed into Dua’s womb. And I kept fucking. Kept pushing my hips into her ass to give her every drop.
Dua kept squeezing around me like a hot, wet vice. She didn’t want to let me go. Didn’t want to risk letting my cum run out of her hole.
“Babe. My cock needs to breathe.”
Dua shook her head. “I thought you said I could cock warm you more.” Her voice was low, slow, and sounded like I had left her needing a post-coital nap.
“Dua.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “Just… leave it in a bit longer, okay? I’m not done pretending your baby is inside me now.”
My face softened and I laid my head back down. I kissed her back, between her shoulders, and pulled her close again. My cock was still good and buried between her legs. “How are you feeling?”
There was a long pause before she answered, “Like maybe I don’t want to just imagine this feeling.”
I sighed and kept holding her. My arms wrapped impossibly tight around Dua when she made a sound that resembled a sniffle.
“Hey,” I whispered quietly. “We’ll figure out what we want. I promise. I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you. With or without a child, you are the most incredible woman I have ever met.”
Keeping us conjoined still, Dua twisted at the hip and reached her hand back to hold mine. “I’m sorry I can’t decide what I want, Fynn.”
I could hear the tears in her voice, even if I couldn’t quite see the glassy sheen I knew was over her eyes.
“Hey. None of that. There’s nothing to be sorry for, Dua.” I squeezed her hand and rolled on top of her a little to kiss her knuckles.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have done this the day before my period.” Her laughter came out as a watery giggle.
“Maybe this wasn’t the best time to discuss something like if we want a kid, but the sex was incredibly hot.”
Dua laughed loudly, her body shaking with the delightful sound. “Should we table this topic until after my period?”
“That might be for the best.” I nodded sagely. “We could run a mock bomb drop on Rina when she comes over for dinner next week.”
Dua finally untangled her leg from mine. “I guess I can let you out now.” She giggled again as she reached between her legs and rubbed where we were joined. The sexiest moan left her lips as she rubbed our combined mess on her clit.
“Are you ready?” I asked softly, my hands on her hips.
“Mmm.” She hummed in acceptance. I knew her bottom lip was between her teeth. Another gasp rolled out as I slipped out of her.
The shudder that followed along with the trickle of fluids that came out of her was enough to almost make me hard again.
“Fuck. That’s a lot.” I chuckled and looked between our bodies as I rolled over at an angle. It was a messy crime scene.
“We’ve been together for how long, and we still haven’t learned to lay down towels yet?” Dua giggled as she tried to get up without letting the cum puddle touch her.
“It makes sure we change out the sheets regularly.” I shrugged and got off the bed, moving to the bathroom. My cock was still half-hard as I walked.
“So… you really think we should do a practice run of telling Rina we might want a baby?”
I came back with a warm washcloth for Dua only to find her with two fingers plunging in and out of her used, creamed pussy.
“I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” I handed her the washcloth. “The only people that know you as well—if not better than me—are your parents and Rina. I want to be damned sure before we say anything to your parents.”
Dua laughed. “They’ve been on us since we announced our engagement to have at least two kids.”
I grimaced. “I think two is my maximum.”
“Oh my God. Agreed.” Dua’s dark, perfectly maintained eyebrows were nearly in her hair. “Are you going to tell your parents if we decide to? Or… would they find out when they find out?”
It was my turn for my eyebrows to move towards the ceiling. My lips got razor thin, and I puffed my cheeks out. “Um… it might be similar to me not telling them we got engaged?”
Dua tried to bite back a laugh, but she failed. “Imagine if they found out they were going to be grandparents because they read I was pregnant from a magazine at a checkout aisle.”
I was silent for a long while. “That might be exactly how it plays out.”
“When did you last speak to your father?” Dua looked at me with soft eyes as she cleaned herself carefully with the damp cloth.
I puffed out a slow breath. “Um… I don’t recall. It’d be a full guess.” I cocked my head to the side. “Does him saying congrats on my Facebook engagement post count?”
Dua’s face fell. “Fynn, I’m sorry.”
Dua’s parents were fantastic people. So fucking nice, and extremely supportive. Of both of us.
Mrs. Lipa was the first one who told us she was happy Dua was marrying for love and not headlines.
Though we did make multiple headlines. Everyone wanted to know why Dua was dating a plebian. The rumors were wild and too multiple for me to even list.
I shook my head when I realized I’d been staring at the floor for too long. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m sorry this can’t be normal for us.”
Dua was on her feet and off the bed before I could ask if she was okay. Her arms were around me, holding me tight.
“Now I’m telling you not to be sorry. It’s not your fault your father is… well, who he is. He has an issue you can’t fix. You can’t just cure relationship-ending narcissism.”
I let my wife hold me. I could barely smell her shampoo left in her hair from her shower before I came home. It mingled with a touch of sweat from our activities.
I wanted to ravish her all over again. Her hugs could make me calm down like a sedative, and just the smell of her hair could make me want to make love to her repeatedly.
She let go of me with a teary-eyed smile. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I held her eyes with mine and smiled. Her chin fit in my hand like it was meant to be there, to be held by me. “I am just so in love with you.”
Dua held my palm to her face as she kissed my wrist. “I definitely want to practice baby announcements with Rina. Just in case.”
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