supposed to love Johnathan and be with Johnathan. Sure we’ve had a really rough go at it thus far and his immaturity has made me literally want to pull my hair out. But I’m carrying his twins, for Christ’s sake. Not to forget the fact that he swears he’s going to marry me when this is all said and done. Whenever that may be. I’ve got ten days to get my head on straight and decide what this is or this isn’t with James. I can’t play the wishy-washy shit any longer. It’s exhausting for me and I’m sure it’s giving whiplash to the rest of the important individuals in my life.
James is cooking us all breakfast in the kitchen. I begged to do it, but after we had our little bedroom moment I think he needed some time to concentrate on other things, like a hot frying pan full of bacon. I know the feeling. If my core is screaming to release I can’t think of much else.
“How’s it coming Papa Bear?” I call from the best couch in the world. I swear, before we leave I need to have James tip this puppy upside down and find out who made his couch. I don’t care how much it cost, I need one for the condo back home. It’s huge and comfy and two people can easily lay next to the other and cuddle on it. James’s couch is nice but with him being so thick and sexy and me being a cow carrying twins, we can’t fit on his couch. Which I hate. And in turn it makes us spend more time in our bed. Not that I mind that part. I read a lot and so does he, so it suits both of our needs.
“It’s almost finished. Do you guys want waffles or pancakes?”
“Waffles.” I answer. “Pancakes.” Stacy and Kyle collectively chime in.
I give Stacy the stink-eye. He knows how much I love waffles. Okay, we all know they taste almost the same. They come from the same batter but there is something about waffles and the deep groves that allow syrup and melted butter to pool in them, which makes them all the tastier.
I get off the couch and pad my way into the kitchen.
“Don’t you dare sweet talk him, pregnant woman,” Stacy scolds playfully from the living room in the middle of some conversation with Kyle, about Kyle’s job.
“Oh shut it. I would never do such a thing.” I wag my finger at Stacy and he giggles, rolling his eyes. He knows me all too well.
“Hey need a hand?” I offer to James, who’s mixing a bowl full of Bisquick batter by hand.
“No. This is my job, my pregnant lady.” He smiles at me sweetly. Oh he’s so wonderful. Making me and my best friend breakfast. Who does that? Him… That’s who.
I peer over my shoulder and see that Kyle and Stace are so engrossed in their conversation they aren’t paying any attention to me. Amen to that.
“So are those going to be pancakes or waffles?” I perk up a brow and inch closer to him. I’m going to flirt and I’m going to win this battle. The babies want waffles and so does their mommy. Ok, I don’t know what they want, but who cares. I’m pregnant, fat and craving sugary mouthwatering maple smothered waffles. Delicious!
“I don’t know.” He smirks darkly.
Oh, somebody might be playing along with this. I peer over my shoulder again just to be sure, and yep, same as before.
I get close to James, so close my belly is touching his hip and I sneakily reach my hand under his bowl that’s in his arms and cup his cock in my hand, fondling the package that is surprisingly rather hard. It’s easy to feel over his black pj pants.
“So, Papa Bear, can I have some waffles…pppllleeeaaaaseeee.” I lay the sweetness on thick and gooey and rub my thumb over his succulent, fleshy head. My core is already dampening from the excitement. I love this flirtatiousness.
“Well…I don’t know…,” he cracks a big ear to ear grin. Which I absolutely love.
“Purdy peas,” I pout with my lip turned out, batting my eye lashes.
Damn, I’m laying it on thick. But who thought flirting over pancakes versus waffles could be so arousing or fun? Not I.
He
James is cooking us all breakfast in the kitchen. I begged to do it, but after we had our little bedroom moment I think he needed some time to concentrate on other things, like a hot frying pan full of bacon. I know the feeling. If my core is screaming to release I can’t think of much else.
“How’s it coming Papa Bear?” I call from the best couch in the world. I swear, before we leave I need to have James tip this puppy upside down and find out who made his couch. I don’t care how much it cost, I need one for the condo back home. It’s huge and comfy and two people can easily lay next to the other and cuddle on it. James’s couch is nice but with him being so thick and sexy and me being a cow carrying twins, we can’t fit on his couch. Which I hate. And in turn it makes us spend more time in our bed. Not that I mind that part. I read a lot and so does he, so it suits both of our needs.
“It’s almost finished. Do you guys want waffles or pancakes?”
“Waffles.” I answer. “Pancakes.” Stacy and Kyle collectively chime in.
I give Stacy the stink-eye. He knows how much I love waffles. Okay, we all know they taste almost the same. They come from the same batter but there is something about waffles and the deep groves that allow syrup and melted butter to pool in them, which makes them all the tastier.
I get off the couch and pad my way into the kitchen.
“Don’t you dare sweet talk him, pregnant woman,” Stacy scolds playfully from the living room in the middle of some conversation with Kyle, about Kyle’s job.
“Oh shut it. I would never do such a thing.” I wag my finger at Stacy and he giggles, rolling his eyes. He knows me all too well.
“Hey need a hand?” I offer to James, who’s mixing a bowl full of Bisquick batter by hand.
“No. This is my job, my pregnant lady.” He smiles at me sweetly. Oh he’s so wonderful. Making me and my best friend breakfast. Who does that? Him… That’s who.
I peer over my shoulder and see that Kyle and Stace are so engrossed in their conversation they aren’t paying any attention to me. Amen to that.
“So are those going to be pancakes or waffles?” I perk up a brow and inch closer to him. I’m going to flirt and I’m going to win this battle. The babies want waffles and so does their mommy. Ok, I don’t know what they want, but who cares. I’m pregnant, fat and craving sugary mouthwatering maple smothered waffles. Delicious!
“I don’t know.” He smirks darkly.
Oh, somebody might be playing along with this. I peer over my shoulder again just to be sure, and yep, same as before.
I get close to James, so close my belly is touching his hip and I sneakily reach my hand under his bowl that’s in his arms and cup his cock in my hand, fondling the package that is surprisingly rather hard. It’s easy to feel over his black pj pants.
“So, Papa Bear, can I have some waffles…pppllleeeaaaaseeee.” I lay the sweetness on thick and gooey and rub my thumb over his succulent, fleshy head. My core is already dampening from the excitement. I love this flirtatiousness.
“Well…I don’t know…,” he cracks a big ear to ear grin. Which I absolutely love.
“Purdy peas,” I pout with my lip turned out, batting my eye lashes.
Damn, I’m laying it on thick. But who thought flirting over pancakes versus waffles could be so arousing or fun? Not I.
He
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