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It was the morning of their ultrasound appointment and Tina woke up before Bette for once. She glanced the clock, groaning at the fullness of her bladder. She felt like she was in the bathroom a hundred times a day. The other day, Bette joked that Tina was wearing a track in the hard wood floors from the kitchen to the bathroom, which earned her a sour look and a grumpy wife until she was redeemed by bringing an extra large slurpee home and giving a foot massage.
Tina dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom, not even wasting time to put on the light or close the door so great was her need to relieve herself. She washed her hands and brushed her teeth then returned to the bedroom.
It didn’t matter how much noise she made, she realized. Bette barely moved. Tina felt great, she had slept almost fourteen hours, falling asleep at six the night before and now it was nearly eight in the morning. Bette must have had another sleepless night, she was wound up about the ultrasound appointment today. She missed this appointment the last time Tina was pregnant, and Tina had to hear the news of the baby passing alone. Bette was terrified that it would happen again, that today would also bring bad news.
Tina crawled back in bed. God, Bette looked… amazing really. Her body. Shit and Hell Fire as Boo used to say, although never quite in this context.
Bette was laying on her back with one arm up around her head, her breathing deep. She wore a thin white tank top that hinted at dark nipples underneath and rose to reveal her belly button nestled in a toned and delicious abdomen.
Just looking at Bette’s body gave Tina a jolt of desire, her pregnancy hormones kicking into high gear and she lowered her head to place an open mouthed, wet, tongue probing kiss on, around and in Bette’s belly button.
Bette tasted heavenly, like bergamot citrus with a hint of the body butter she sometimes used at night. And her, just her. The taste of her skin was comforting and familiar at the same time. It haunted Tina when they separated, no woman ever tasted as good as Bette. Her Bette, she thought and the thought made her more possessive as her tongue licked and probed more, her hands lifting the tank higher when her mouth needed more territory to claim, explore.