I strip her carefully, reverently, and lay her on the bed. I'm already so hard it aches.
I settle beside her, running my hands over her body. Her skin is warm and soft, stretched over the swell of our child, and the sight makes something primal surge through me.
"Mine," I murmur, leaning down to press kisses to her stomach. "Both of you. Mine."
She shivers as I work my way up to her tits. When I take one nipple into my mouth, she gasps.
"Oh—" she moans, long and slow, causing precum to pulse from my tip.
"I love you like this." My hand slides down to cup her belly. "Love seeing you round with my child. Love knowing everyone who looks at you knows exactly who you belong to."
"Possessive," she breathes, but there's no censure in it.
"Always." I move lower, settling between her legs. "Let me taste you."
I take my time with her, enjoying how her body has changed, what makes her gasp now versus what made her gasp eight months ago on our wedding night. She's more sensitive everywhere, more responsive, and watching her fall apart on my tongue is intoxicating.
When she comes, it's with my name on her lips and her hands fisted in my hair.
I move up her body carefully, positioning myself at her entrance.
"Tell me if anything hurts," I say.
"Just take it steady," she whispers.
I do. I ease into her inch by inch, and the feel of her makes me groan. The angle is different with her belly between us, but I adjust, finding a rhythm that works.
"God, Matilda," I breathe. "You feel incredible."
She wraps her legs around me as best she can and pulls me closer. "Harder."
"You're pregnant—"
"I'm pregnant, not broken." Her nails dig into my arms. "Harder, Gennady. I want to still feel it tomorrow."
The words break what's left of my control. I give her what she wants, driving into her with steady, powerful thrusts that make us both groan. Her hands grip my shoulders, her head falls back, and I can see the flush spreading across her chest.
She meets me thrust for thrust, her body accepting mine despite the changes, despite everything. And when I reach between us to find her clit, she shatters with a cry that's all incoherent pleasure.
The feeling of her clamping down around me drags me over the edge. I bury myself deep and come hard, filling her, marking her, claiming her all over again.
When I collapse beside her, careful not to crush her or the baby, she's smiling.
"What?" I ask.
"I love you," she says simply.
The words hit me like they always do, unexpected and overwhelming and exactly right.
"I love you too," I tell her, pulling her against my side. "Both of you."
My hand finds her belly, and I feel the baby kick against my palm. Our child. The physical proof of what we are to each other.
"One more month," she murmurs.
"One more month and our family begins." I press a kiss to her temple. "I can't wait."
"Neither can I." She covers my hand with hers. "Thank you."
