I let him go with a loud, overdonepopand ungracefully roll over onto all fours. Sticking my rear into the air, knowing he can see every part of me, I say, "Now, please."
Hugo palms my ass with one hand. Lines himself up with me. "I don't need a condom?"
"Pretty sure I'm already pregnant," I joke. "And I'm clear."
"I am, too, but..." He runs his length through me, hesitating.
I look over my shoulder. He looks like a pornographic version of a Greek god, naked with rippling muscles, holding himself from underneath, poised to split me in two.
Over my back he meets my eyes. "Will I hurt the baby?"
If that isn't the sweetest thing. "No," I assure him. He looks so worried.
"Are you sure?"
Because he's already pressed to me, I only have to move back an inch to capture him. His eyes are trained on where we're marginally connected. I press back further, taking in another inch of him. "I am one hundred percent certain. Now, Hugo, please fuck me."
"Can't deny you a thing when you talk like that." He buries himself inside me in a measured pace. Maybe one day he'll manhandle me, but for now, he needs to do thishis way. I don't care how it's done, only that it happens. I want this man more than anything, his heat and his weight and his strength.
Hugo gathers my hair, holds my shoulder with his other hand. "You're gorgeous, Mallory. Beautiful and luscious." He releases my hair, hand wrapping over my breast. "Here." He flicks my nipple, hand descending over my belly. "And here." Back up to my hip, where his fingers curl, holding me in place. "I want to take care of you, Mallory. You, and your baby."
Steadying, he creates a rhythm. There is a slap of bodies, heat generated by us. His tempo breaks, becoming frenzied. He moves on from my hip, only to dip his hand between my legs.
"One more from you," he growls, working me.
I love it. The way he fills me, leaves me empty, fills me again. It's heady, and lusty, and sweet, and this man is almost too much. Too good.
My thigh muscles ache, that slow burn, and soon I'm constricting. Jerking and clenching. Hugo cups my sex, holds onto me. Thrusting harder now, losing his grip on that easy pace. He's beside himself, chasing his pleasure. And then he shouts something, a sound not a word, raw and animalistic. Grips me hard, and comes.
"Fuck, Mallory," he pants, leaning over me, kissing down my spine.
"Same," I gasp, grasping for my senses.
He pulls out, but doesn't leave me. I feel him, slipping around. Covering me in his spend.
I drop to my elbows. Give him better access. "Are you marking me?"
"Yes," he answers. "The same way you've marked me."
"I most definitely have not done what you're doing right now."
"Your marks aren't visible," he replies, the answer quick and ready. He stops, sits on the bed, urges me to sit up. "But I promise you, I'm covered in them." He captures my mouth, kissing me with a ferocity I would've expected before the mind-blowing sex. "Let's get cleaned up," he says, when he pulls back. "I want to take a nap."
"I can go back to my room," I say, pushing off the bed.
He grabs my hand, spins me back to him. "Don't you dare. I want you in my bed, curled into me."
My answer comes without reservation. "Yes."
We go into his bathroom and get cleaned up, then we settle back into his bed. He fits me up against him. Runs his hand over my stomach. It's not that I've forgotten I'm pregnant, it's that I spent the last hour feeling like a woman. With Hugo's touch on my belly, it brings reality into stark relief.
Here I am in his bed, carrying with me proverbial suitcases of baggage. I don't want him to feel like he's taking me on. Or worse, that I'm a charity case. Though if I have to be someone's charity case, I don't mind if it comes with orgasms that make my toes tingle.
My hand falls over Hugo's, stilling it. "I know I'm a lot. I won't hold you to anything you said when you were, you know."
His mouth, near my ear, takes a little nip. "When I was what? Between your legs? Buried deep inside you? Kissing your back?"
Heat unfurls in my belly at his words. "I was going to sayin the throes."
