Her lips curve into a wicked little smile, and she arches a brow, all confidence and tease. “Oh, I can feelthat,” she murmurs, shifting her hips just enough to press against me, the friction through my pants making me hiss. “What are you gonna do about it, Moretti?”
I chuckle, low and dark. “I’m gonna worship you, sweetheart. Right here. Until you’re screaming my name.” Her shiver is my reward, and I kiss her, hard and deep, claiming her mouth with a possessiveness that’s as much about love as it is about lust. She moans into me, her fingers tangling in my hair, tugging just hard enough to send a jolt straight to my cock.
I pull back, my hands sliding to her waist as I lift her back onto the vanity, careful of her pregnancy, but firm enough to remind her who’s in charge. “Stay still,” I order, my voice a low rumble, and her eyes flash with that defiant spark I love. I spread her thighs, settling between them, and the sight of her—glistening, ready, her scent filling my senses—makes my mouth water. “Look at you,” I murmur, my fingers tracing the inside of her thigh, teasing but not touching where she wants me most. “So fucking perfect. All mine.”
“Alaric,” she whines, her hips shifting, chasing my touch, and the sound of her need makes my pulse pound.
“Patience,” I say, but my own control is hanging by a thread. I lean in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin just above her core, feeling her tremble. “You were so strong today, so brilliant. Let me show you how much that meant to me.”
I part her with my fingers, gentle but deliberate, and when my tongue flicks against her clit, she gasps, her hands flying to my hair.
“Oh God,” she moans, her voice breaking as I lick her again, slow and thorough, savoring her taste—sweet, heady, like nothing else in the world. I groan against her, the vibration making her hips buck, and I grip her thighs, holding her steady as I devour her.
My tongue circles her clit, teasing, then sucking gently, and her moans turn into soft, desperate cries that echo in the quiet room. “Alaric, please?—”
“Please what?” I murmur against her, my breath hot on her skin as I slide a finger inside her, curling it just right. She’s so wet, so tight, and the way she clenches around me makes my cock ache. “Tell me what you need, baby. Let me hear it.”
“You,” she gasps, her fingers tightening in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting. “Your mouth, your tongue—don’t stop.” Her voice is raw, pleading, and it’s the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
I don’t stop. I feast on her, my tongue working her clit with relentless precision, my finger moving in slow, deep strokes that make her tremble.
Her thighs shake against my shoulders, her moans growing louder, more desperate, and I can feel her getting close, her body tensing under my touch. “That’s it,” I growl, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, my lips slick with her. “Come for me, Kasi. Let me taste you when you fall apart.”
She does, her cry sharp and unrestrained as her orgasm hits, her body shuddering, her hands clutching my hair like a lifeline.
I keep going, drawing out every wave, licking her through it until she’s gasping, oversensitive, her thighs trembling against me. Only then do I pull back, kissing her inner thigh, her hip, the soft curve of her belly where our child grows.
Her taste lingers on my tongue, sweet and intoxicating, as I rise from between her thighs. Kasi’s still trembling, her body flushed and glowing in the soft moonlight from the windows. I’m hard as steel, my cock straining painfully, but I want to savor her.
“On your knees,” I growl, my voice rough with need. She hesitates, eyes flashing with that defiant spark, but then she complies, turning to kneel on the plush rug, her hands braced against the window. The sight of her ass up, pregnant belly gently curved, moonlight painting her skin, makes my blood roar.
I step behind her, hands gripping her hips, my fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp. “You want this?” I ask, pressing my cock against her entrance, still slick and ready from my mouth. Her moan is answer enough, but I want words.
“Yes,” she breathes, pushing back against me, teasing. “Fuck me, Alaric. Now.”
I don’t make her wait. I thrust into her, hard and deep, filling her completely, and her cry echoes off the glass. She’s so tight, so wet, it’s almost too much, but I keep my rhythm slow, deliberate, making her feel every inch.
“Harder,” she demands, her voice raw, desperate. Her hand reaches back, grabbing mine, guiding it to her throat. My pulse spikes, but I’m careful, my fingers wrapping lightly around her neck, just enough pressure to make her moan louder.
“Like this?” I growl, tightening my grip slightly, my other hand on her hip as I thrust harder, faster, the slap of our bodies loud in the quiet suite. Her moans turn into sharp, needy cries, each one driving me closer to the edge. She’s meeting every thrust, her body begging for more, and I give it to her, relentless but controlled.
“Fuck, Kasi,” I rasp, my thumb brushing the pulse point under her jaw, feeling her heartbeat race. “You’re mine. Every fuckinginch of you.” Her answering moan, broken and desperate, makes my cock throb inside her.
She pushes back harder, her nails digging into the window frame. “More,” she pleads, her voice a mix of command and surrender. “Alaric, please—harder.” I oblige, slamming into her with a force that makes her cry out, her body trembling under my hand.
My fingers tighten just a fraction on her throat, enough to make her gasp, her eyes fluttering shut in the reflection. I lean forward. “You love this, don’t you? Being mine like this.”
“Yes,” she moans, her voice breaking as she clenches around me, so tight it’s almost painful. I angle my hips, hitting that spot that makes her scream, her body shaking with every thrust.
Her breaths come faster, ragged, and I feel her tightening, another orgasm building. “Come for me,” I growl, my hand sliding from her throat to her clit, rubbing tight circles. She shatters, her cry sharp and raw, her body convulsing around me, pulling me deeper.
I’m not far behind. Her climax drags me over the edge, my release hitting like a freight train, white-hot and overwhelming. I groan her name, my hands gripping her hips as I spill into her, my vision blurring with the intensity.
We stay there, panting, her body still pressed against the window, mine draped over hers. I ease out slowly, careful not to hurt her, my hands gentle now, soothing. She’s trembling, but her eyes in the reflection are bright, sated, with that fierce spark I love.
I help her stand, guiding her to the bed, my hands steady despite my racing heart. I grab a warm cloth from the bathroom,cleaning her up with slow, deliberate care, my fingers lingering on her skin. She watches me, a soft smile playing on her lips, and I can’t resist kissing her—soft, slow, full of everything I can’t say.
We settle on the bed, her head resting on my chest. “So,” she says, her voice light but curious, “what do you think about baby names?” Her fingers trace idle patterns on my skin, and I feel my heart stutter.
