Merry Christmas! Sorry for the late post. And I'm sorry for any plot holes from the original story. This is a flashback from Bella's last pregnancy. I believe I figured out that she was about five months at this time.

-CL

"Bella," I hear Maxon whisper. I groan, exhausted. Maxon kisses me, gently brushing my neck with his thumb. "C'mon, my dear, you have to wake up."

"But, Maxon," I moan. "It's too early."

"We have to go to your parents' place for Christmas, remember?" he murmurs.

My eyes shoot open. "Is it too late to retract our RSVP?" I ask.

My eyes meet his, and he smiles. "We won't ever have to do it again if you don't want to, but we should do it once."

"Ugh, that's one too many times. Now–" Maxon cuts me off with a kiss. "What was that for?" I ask once he pulls away.

"I can't kiss you just because?" he pouts. I laugh at his exaggerated face. "But Merry Christmas, my dear."

"Oh, shit, it actually is Christmas Day isn't it?"

"Yes, Bella. The date never changed," he chuckles.

I shoot him a look. "My pregnancy brain is your fault. Maybe you should control yourself enough not to impregnate your wife."

"I didn't hear you protest when you came all over my cock," he responds. I blush, and he laughs. "You're already about five months along, Bella. You're more than halfway."

"Speaking of cock…" I say with a sly smile. "We won't be doing it tonight. There's no way in hell I'm getting fucked in my parents' house."

"Who says we're staying overnight?" Maxon asks, tracing circles on my swollen stomach.

"I thought…"

"We can take the private jet there and back. Don't worry, we'll be back here tonight."

"Thank you, Maxon," I breathe. I place my hands on his cheeks and pull his lips to mine, gently biting them.

Maxon pulls away, and I almost whimper at the loss of his touch. "Let's go, my dear. The sooner we get this over with the better." He swings his legs over the bed and helps me get out of bed. He kisses my hand. "I'll be with you the whole time."

"Promise?" I ask, anxiety leaking into my voice.

Maxon's eyes soften. "Of course, my dear," he murmurs. "I won't leave you alone." He leans in and gently kisses me, sealing his promise.

"Go figure that my motion sickness returns with pregnancy," I grumble. "And go figure we don't have any medication."

"I'm sorry, my dear," Maxon says, kissing my forehead. "We're almost there." He grabs my hand and pulls me into his lap. He places his hands on my belly, having me lean my head back.

I sigh, but then overwhelming nausea comes over me. I throw myself out his lap and rush to the bathroom, barely opening the toilet before I start vomiting. I try to close the door with my foot, so as to not worry Maxon, but he rushes in behind me. "Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry," he says before kneeling beside me, as cramped as it is, and pulling my hair back. I moan, another bout of nausea washing over me. I heave and heave and heave until nothing more comes out. How I wish I had a Benadryl.

I moan, gripping my stomach. "Maxon."

"I'm right here, my dear," he says, lifting me into his arms and carrying me to a seat. He sits down, having me lean against him. He reclines the chair, causing both of us to lie down. I yawn, and Maxon traces circles on my hand. "Sleep, my dear." I nod and close my eyes, slowly drifting off.

"Bella, wake up," Maxon whispers. I slowly open my eyes and take in my surroundings. I notice people standing around me. "Mother? Father?" I ask. I sit up and realize that we're at my parents' house. "Huh?"

"Merry Christmas, Bella," Mother says. She steps up and leans down to hug me. I stand up, with Maxon's help, to hug her properly.

"Merry Christmas, Mother," I respond. I stiffly hug her as much as I try to warm up to her.

"Bella. Merry Christmas," Father says, hugging me. He awkwardly pats me on the back.

"Merry Christmas, Father," I respond. I step back and return to Maxon. He shakes my parents' hands before putting his arm around me. "Do they know?" I whisper, leaning so my hair covers my lips.

"No, I made sure to block it as much as I could, and the high waistband you are wearing helped." He kisses my forehead before pulling away. "Thank you for hosting us, Mr. and Mrs. Starr," Maxon says.

"Thank you for coming, Your Majesties," Mother responds. "I know how busy you all are."

"Yes, especially you, King Maxon," Father says. It sounds so awkward calling Maxon "King Maxon"; I've partially forgotten our true titles.

"Just Maxon, please," Maxon says.

My parents look at each other before Mother speaks again. "Well, can we get you anything to drink?"

"I'll have water, please, Mother," I say. "Maxon, do you want anything?"

"I brought us some brandy if you want to make something with it," Maxon says, producing a bottle.

"Thank you, Your–Maxon," Father says, taking the bottle. He exits the living room, heading to the kitchen.

"Bella, do you want anything else besides water? You usually have something," Mother says.

"No, I'm ok for now, Mother, thank you," I respond placing my hand on Maxon's arm. "I'm going to use the restroom," I whisper to Maxon.

"I'll be right here," he says. I walk to the bathroom and close the door. I inspect myself in the full-length mirror, placing my hands underneath my dress. I smile at the bump protruding, but anxiety fills me when I think about telling my parents the news. I turn and inspect my makeup from my nap. Thank God I still look ok.

I exit the bathroom and find Maxon again. He pulls me in next to him, guiding me to sit on the loveseat. "Everything alright?" he murmurs.

I nod. "I think we should tell them now when they sit down for drinks."

Maxon nods. "Alright, my dear. I'm here," he says, squeezing my hand.

Mother and Father walk into the living room, handing out our drinks. "Thanks," I murmur when Mother hands me my water. She smiles and sits next to Father on the other loveseat. They are so fake, I swear. Mother even goes as far as placing her head on Father's shoulder.

"So, Mother," I say, looking at her, "Father," I look at him. "Maxon and I have some news." Maxon squeezes my hand, and I take a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

There's silence for a good twenty seconds, the news sinking in. I wait for my parents' reaction, waiting for something. Maxon and I stand up so I can show my bump. I place my hands, nervously, under my bump.

Mother thaws from her shock first. She jumps up and hugs me. "Congratulations, Bella." I smile, thanking her.

Father stands up and shakes Maxon's hand. "Congratulations, Maxon," he says before patting him on the back. I can see the blush creeping up Maxon's neck.

"Thank you, sir," Maxon says, rubbing the back of his neck. Mother and Father switch, congratulating us. Maxon pulls me back into his arms, and Mother and Father sit back down in their loveseat.

"So that explains why you asked for water," Mother muses.

I nod. "Yes." I turn to Maxon. "Can you grab the gifts we brought, please?" I gesture to my stomach.

"Why don't you have your maid do it?" Mother asks, glancing around.

"I didn't bring one," I respond. Maxon squeezes my hand and stands, walking to the front door.

"Why not?" Mother frowns, giving me a look.

"Because Isa didn't want to," I respond cooly. Isa is my newest personal maid. Isabella wanted to bake in the kitchen when a spot opened up, so I needed a new maid. Isa, short for Isabela, stepped up. I call her Isa as a nickname, especially since my last maid had almost the same name. But she didn't come because she's about nine months pregnant and is ready to give birth any day now. I didn't want her to come with if she didn't want to, which she didn't. And I totally understand why. "Not that it's any of your business, Mother."

Maxon sits down next to me, squeezing my knee. I take a deep breath. "Do you want to exchange gifts or have dinner first?"
"Dinner should be ready," Mother says, standing up. She walks to the kitchen and a timer goes off. "Yep, dinner's ready."

Father gets off the couch and trails Mother into the kitchen. "You're doing great, my dear," Maxon murmurs in my ear. "Just a little while longer. Let's eat dinner, shall we?" Maxon holds out his hand, helping me up. He places his hand on the small of my back and walks me to the kitchen.

"Let's just get this over with," I whisper, smiling the fakest smile.

"Oh, thank God we're done with that," I groan. Maxon and I are loading the private jet.

Maxon chuckles. "You made it," he says, helping me sit. I sigh and recline the chair, my back sore. "Your mother did make a wonderful dinner."

"That's the only wonderful thing about her," I grumble. I close my eyes, breathing deeply for a minute. I feel the plane take off.

"She can't be that bad," Maxon says, digging. I know he's digging.

I snort. "Yeah, she's not as bad as my father," I say. "Remember New Year's? When he pushed me down the stairs?" I open my eyes and look at Maxon.

Maxon grimaces. "Yeah, I do. How could I forget when I wanted to murder him right there and then?"

I laugh. "With what? My stiletto?"

"Don't tempt me," he grumbles.

"Speaking of tempting, someone promised to fuck me," I say, batting my eyelashes.

"I never promised; I just said that we would be back to the palace if you wanted to," Maxon says, but I see his eyes light up.

I get out of my chair, slowly, and walk to him. He stands up, waiting. "Why wait for the palace?" I place my hands on his chest, using him to stay balanced. Too bad for him that my emerald-green satin dress has a slit. I curl my leg around his legs, causing him to fall back into the chair. In response, he kisses down my neck, my sweetheart neckline allowing him to move toward my breasts. He then moves to my exposed shoulders, thanks to my off-the-shoulder long, lace sleeves. I gasp when he nips my shoulder. I twist my fingers in his hair.

"Naughty, Bella," Maxon whispers. His hand moves up my slit and pinches my upper thigh. I yelp, surprised. He cradles me in his arms and stands up, placing me back in the chair. "Open, now," Maxon commands. I open my legs, somewhat scared. He looks at me and groans. "Seriously, Bella? You wore your black thong to your parents' house?"

"Don't tell me you don't like it," I say, but gasp when he rips it off of my legs, the fabric fluttering to the ground. "Maxon–" I start, but stop when Maxon kneels before me. "Maxon–" I try again, but this time he cuts me off with his tongue diving into me. I gasp and squirm, thrusting my hips toward him. He puts my legs on his shoulders, balancing me. I grip the seat as tightly as I can, the fabric bunching together in my fingers. I cry out again and again, begging him to let me come. He bites my clit causing me to scream quietly before he stands up and places my feet on the armrests of the seat. I glance at him, panting; I'm almost seeing stars. "Maxon, please–"

"I only want you coming all over my cock, sweetheart," Maxon says right before he lets his pants fall, his cock springing out. I gulp, remembering how big he truly is. No matter how much he fucks me, it still burns when he shoves himself all the way in. I know I'm going to be sore after this; Maxon's here to play, and not sweetly. He reclines the chair completely, making me wait anxiously for his cock to–

"Maxon!" I scream when he slams into me.

"It's alright, my dear," Maxon says, gently playing with my clit. "You just need to get stretched out a bit. I won't shove myself fully in yet."

I nod, whimpering. As much as I love him fucking me, I hate the pain that's associated with it. I don't want him to always fuck me. Sometimes I want him to be sweet and gentle, not hurting me. I feel the chair move up, my dress settling around me. "Hey," Maxon says, forcing me to look at him. I cover my stomach with my arms, as stupid as that is. Nervous habit, I guess. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I say quickly.

"I know something's wrong, my dear," Maxon says, gently moving my legs and curling next to me.

"Maxon, I'm wet," I say, trying to have my dress slide under him.

"It's alright, my dear. What's the matter?" He looks at me with his brown eyes.

"I…Maxon, can you please be gentle with me tonight?" I place my hands under my small bump without thinking, but Maxon's eyes follow my hands. "Not because I'm pregnant, but because I…I want you to make love to me, not fuck me. You haven't made love to me in so long…" I trail off, realizing how stupid I sound. "Ugh, just never mind." I bury my face in my hands, a blush creeping up my cheeks.

"Bella, if you want me to be gentle, that's fine. Don't be ashamed about that. You should feel comfortable talking to me, my dear," he murmurs. "I'll be gentle, ok? Do you still want to do it?"

I nod shakily. "Yes, I do."

"Then I'll be gentle," Maxon says, his fingers sliding to the slit of my dress. His hands soon find my dripping entrance, fingering my clit. "Are you ready?" I nod. He adjusts so I'm on the bottom, and he climbs on top of me, reclining the chair. He gently teases my entrance, making my breath hitch. I thrust my hips toward him, bucking. He chuckles. "Alright, my dear," he says before sliding into me. I gasp, but he allows me to adjust. "There's a good girl."

Soon we find our rhythm and are breathing heavily, the sound of skin slapping together echoing. Maxon's mouth finds mine, his tongue twisting with mine. He gently nips my lips, causing me to thrust my hips. He groans in my mouth before shuddering, reaching his peak. He comes before I can, for the first time ever, which makes me reach my peak. We both moan and cry out, squeezing each other tightly. We both collapse, panting. Maxon traces my face with his finger. "Was that better, my dear?"

I nod. "Thank you, Maxon," I gasp between pants.

"Merry Christmas, my dear," Maxon murmurs before kissing me again. He allows me to snuggle close to him, my eyelids drooping.

"Merry Christmas, Maxon," I say, realizing this will be the last Christmas we will have alone. "And here's to many more." I seal it with a kiss, our hands cradling my stomach while we drift to sleep.