Marlena
I can feel him watching me. It’s not unusual for him to do so, he’s always been possessive, as well as simply attuned to my body. He knows me. The me that stays hidden beneath proper suits while I work, the me that only he has ever known and will ever know. It’s more than that now though.
My eyes glance down at the small swell of my stomach, I know that’s where his focus is, without even looking. I can feel it. Him, his eyes, his wonder. I can feel it surround me.
I never knew I could feel more loved and cherished than I do sharing this experience with him. We were cheated with Belle. We didn’t know she was his. This time we know, even though we have had our hurdles.
I was unfaithful. Not because I fell out of love with my husband, or back in love with my ex. The machinations of outside forces were to blame. A sense of despair was as well. I knew better, but it happened anyway.
I admitted it once we were home. I couldn’t lie to him or hide it. He had been through enough with his injury and addiction. I knew he had moved on. I knew he had been with Kate. I knew if we were going to reconcile we had to face things head on. Things weren’t better overnight. Especially once we discovered the unexpected.
Pregnancy at my age was the last thing I expected as a consequence of my actions. In the blink of an eye I was transported back twelve years. I had once again repeated the same mistake, yet it wasn’t the same mistake at all. When I had cheated on Roman, it wasn’t because I was trapped, or feeling like I had lost my husband. No, I had done so because I wanted the man that is now my husband. I loved him so desperately, so completely, that I had wrecked my life to keep him near me… with me.
Belle was a consequence of love. This baby… I was so sure it hadn’t come from that kind of love. That it would be a constant reminder of what I had done, an innocent life that wasn’t welcome due to circumstances. I had to remind myself I had felt the same about Belle in the beginning, but it still wasn’t the same. A part of me, even then, wanted that connection to John, even though I was spiraling.
I shake myself mentally for allowing my mind to wander like this again. I am dwelling on guilt, and I shouldn’t be. We have moved on, and we were spared.
I look up, and catch his eyes across the room. The love shining in them makes my breath catch in my throat. I have to give him credit for the fact that he never tried to shame me for this situation. He embraced me as I melted down in his arms, and told me he would love this baby as much as he did any of our children, simply because it was a part of me. The love never left his eyes, even with all the hurt we were dealing with.
It’s more intense now though. It’s because we know this baby isn’t Roman’s. It’s his. By some miracle, it’s from our short time on the island before everything once again went to hell around us.
That’s not the only thing that’s more intense. Our physical connection has reached a whole new level, even for us. That’s saying something, as we’ve never had issues in that department. We’ve always wanted each other, and craved the other’s touch as though we were each other’s drug.
We have always been experimental, never dull and boring. I have allowed him to touch me, and have me in ways that would shock those that look at me as the proper and composed doctor. I haven’t only allowed it, I have wanted it. Anything and everything has been his, and his only.
I have laid beneath him, begging him to take me. I have writhed as I came, not from having him inside me, but from the sheer turn on of seeing him lose control as I pleasured him with my mouth. I have felt myself come undone as we experienced a new level of connection with him seated deep within my anal canal, his fingers working the folds of my vaginal lips, flicking against my clit as I forgot where I was. I have held my aroused breasts together, creating a canal, as his dick slid between them, not caring where his seed landed as he let go.
I can feel moisture pool and dampen my panties as I relive the things we have done, both with and to each other.
This brings me back to the original reason for my musing. He’s watching me, and I know why. It’s the same reason I watch him. He is my obsession. My addiction. And, even after all these years, and these circumstances we have dealt with recently, I am still his.
John
I’ve been caught staring. She hasn’t looked up at me, but I can tell by the hesitation in her step, and the gesture of her hand running from the exposed skin above the neckline of her blouse to the swell of her belly.
The gentle caress that she gives the life cradled within her makes my heart swell. I never expected to be able to experience this with her. I almost wasn’t able to.
I felt rage she never knew within me when she admitted to me what she had done. I have always been possessive, but I’ve only crossed over into jealousy with one man. Roman.
The indiscretion wasn’t an intentional betrayal. I knew that deep inside myself, but the rage was there all the same. I couldn’t bare the thought of another man being with her in such an intimate manner, even though I am well aware she has been. Especially him… why him.
I hadn’t reacted rationally in the beginning, but she never knew that. I couldn’t let her know that, not when I knew she was having to accept my own mistakes. Not when I knew the images of Kate taking over her home, her bed, her husband were a catalyst for her actions.
It’s all at once amazing, and horrifying to know what despair can do to a person. Combine that with the drugs I had allowed myself to become addicted to, and I was a lose cannon.
That’s not really why I held that rage in though. I did so because I knew she hadn’t decided she wanted him back. She hadn’t decided that she loved him more, or felt turned inside out by him. No, those were the feelings that she had felt towards me when we gave in. She hadn’t felt that way about him in a long time. Those feelings were for me and me alone.
Then came the shock of her pregnancy. We had begun to move forward when that news hit. Somehow, the anger I had felt disappeared as I remembered what she had dealt with after Belle was born. After it was revealed that she was mine and not Roman’s. I had vowed to myself she would never feel that kind of pain and rejection again. I also couldn’t hate a baby, especially not a baby that was a part of her.
No, I embraced her as she panicked and promised her it would be okay. That we would be okay. She wanted to have some tests ran before she told Roman, and I was with her for every one. I had no idea that she had truly been reliving our previous nightmare all over again. No idea she wasn’t sure it was Roman’s.
She was right to wonder. This baby is mine. By some miracle it’s the result of our short time on the island, after we had figured out she and the others were alive.
Why now, this late in life after all of our years together is something I have wondered to myself as I marveled at the changes her body was undergoing. Was this God’s way of ensuring we endured and survived? Then again, this wasn’t exactly smooth sailing with her age as a factor. I don’t know what we would do if something went wrong
I shut those thoughts down before my mind wanders too far down that path, and glance back up at her face. She’s glowing, and has never been more beautiful.
She’s always been beautiful to me though, and I’ve always craved her touch like a drug. Worse than I even craved the real drug I was addicted to. It’s worse now though. The idea of our child nestled within her has turned me on incredibly. I can’t help myself.
We’ve never been tame in the bedroom, nor out of it for that matter. Inhibition went out the window long ago when it came to us being together. Recently, we’ve taken it to new levels though. I’ve found myself thrusting into her waiting mouth while in a dressing room. I’ve cum over and over again from the sensation of being buried between her extremely sensitive breasts while she herself came undone beneath me without me ever touching her in another way. We’ve fucked slowly in our bed, my caution of her condition holding me back from our usually frenetic pace, but we’re making up for it in these other ways. Ways I can only share with her.
So, she catches me watching her, and she knows. It’s not just a physical attraction, it’s not just lust. It is love, and pure fascination that this exquisite woman owns every fiber of my being, just as I do hers. I’ll never tire of watching her.
The Jarlena Journal 