I continue to rock my hips back and forth as I find his lips, kissing him until we’re clinging to each other, both out of breath.
His hands guide me with reverence, and when he takes over, lifting into me from beneath, his thrusts are powerful but controlled, each one laden with feeling rather than force.
Just when my pussy starts to convulse, telling him in no uncertain terms how close I am, he changes our position, edging my impending orgasm. Because he knows me, my body, and exactly how to make this last.
Laying me back against the pillow, he hovers over me. I widen my legs to give him access as he guides himself to my entrance. Wrapping his hand around the back of my thigh and pushing it toward my chest, he plunges inside me again.
Looking into each other’s eyes, we moan in unison, the change of position sending goosebumps over my body.
With every stroke, I feel him deeper, marking his name on every cell inside my body. And when he uses his fingers to massage my clit, I swear I see stars.
“You ready to come, Little Borealis?”
I nod, biting my lip as my eyes roll back into my head.
Patton rolls his hips, each deep stroke making me breathless. “I need you to say it, baby. You’re stuffed full of my cock, now beg me to let you come.”
God. And here I was thinking I couldn’t get any wetter.
“Please,” I pant. “Please let me come, Patton.”
He buries himself with slow, purposeful strokes, like he’s memorizing my body all over again. And when he finds that spot, he coaxes the pleasure from me with each brush of his tip until I’m screaming in ecstasy.
My climax swells like a tidal wave, my hips bucking against him. My body tightens like the string on a bow, ready to snap with even the slightest tug. “Oh god! I’m coming. Patton, I’m . . .”
I fist the sheets, squeezing my eyes shut, shoving my head into the pillow. Words hiss past my lips. “I’m coming so hard.”
And as soon as my orgasm crests, I feel him shoot his load inside me with a strangled roar. “Gahh! Holy fuck.”
Our heavy breaths turn to shallow pants as he pulls out from inside me. Rising to his knees, he opens my legs and watches his cum drip from my center. And doing what I’ve seen him do so many times before, he drags his fingers through it, trying to catch every drop before stuffing it inside me again.
My shoulders shake with a giggle. “I can’t get more pregnant, you crazy man.”
He joins me on the bed, pulling my back to his chest before placing a gentle hand over my belly protectively. “If it were up to me, I’d have a whole baseball team with you. But your body’s been through enough to give us this little miracle.”
“Baseball team?” I look back at him. “Are you saying my uterus justnarrowlyescaped becoming a team bus?”
“Pretty much.” His lips brush my cheek, the subtle notes of his familiar bergamot and minty scent making me nuzzle further into him. “It chose to be the Rolls-Royce of reproductive power instead. Exclusive and one-of-a-kind, just like its owner.”
“You really do know how to charm a girl’s reproductive system.”
He runs the tip of his nose along my neck. “Well, that’s a good thing, considering I’m about to upset you.”
My heart sinks. Even without him saying the words aloud, I already have an inkling of what they’ll be.
I turn, finding his eyes. “What is it?”
He takes a long breath. “Tony’s asking me to fly out tonight. He wants to film a few scenes forCredit Card Millionairebefore the monsoons start in Thailand.”
“But you just got home two days ago. You said we’d have two full weeks before you had to fly out again.”
God, Ihatesounding so needy. I’ve never been this way, truly. But whether it’s the lack of seeing him over the past few years, aside from a few days here or there, or these pregnancyhormones, or simply just feeling lonely in this city, I’ve been a mess lately.
Not to mention, it’s been hard to have a normal relationship—giving him updates about the baby—with Patton being in all sorts of different time zones so many weeks of the year. Just this past year alone, he’s filmed two major films and squeezed in several small passion projects between press tours.
“I know.” His voice is contrite as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I promise, I’ll be here for your birthday.”
“Patton, that’s almost six weeks away.”
