Heat and affection flooded me as he drank me in, his expression one of desire and respect and something bigger. Something that looked a lot like love.
“Now take me to bed.”
Without hesitation, he scooped me up. The bedroom was dark as he deposited me on the fluffy bed, Vincent’s sound machine turned up.
“Can you be quiet?” he asked, his fingers traveling down to my thighs.
Before I could answer, he stole my breath by stroking my clit with his thumb.
I arched up, already more than ready for him.
“Fuck, you’re soaked.”
As he slipped one finger inside me, I grabbed a pillow and covered my face. It was necessary, with the way I was already struggling to keep from moaning.
“I bet you could come like this.” He nipped at my inner thigh.
I removed the pillow and nodded, weaving the fingers of one hand through his hair.
“Is that what you want, mama? You want to come?”
Rather than beg, I gave him a deadpan look that I hoped he read as “no shit.”
With a deep chuckle, he slipped a second finger inside me. “Hmm,” he said, sliding them out again, leaving me empty and desperate. “I’m not sure I’m going to let you.”
“Let me?”
He stood and shucked his shirt, pants, and boxers. All the while, I watched, drinking in the hard lines of his body.
“Good girl,” he said, palming his cock. “I love the way you look at me. Makes me believe that what I feel isn’t one-sided. The need. The lust. The longing.”
A low moan escaped me before I could stop it. It sure as hell was not one-sided.
“Look at you,” he murmured as he climbed back onto the bed. “Laid out for me. I’m so fucking lucky.”
He kissed his way up my torso, lavishing each of my breasts with attention.
I dug my nails into the muscles of his back, desperate to have him closer and nearly moaning again when his erection pressed against my thigh.
I needed him. I was an empty, needy mess, and the only remedy for that was to have him. To give in to the craving that had overtaken me. Only then would I feel complete.
“Please,” I gasped. “I need you inside me.”
He pulled back. “Okay,” he whispered. “Let me get a?—”
“Bare,” I hissed out. “I need you bare. We’re both healthy.” We’d been using condoms since that first time, but I hated it. He was Vincent’s father. I was in love with him. I wanted all of him.
It was reckless. Exclusive breastfeeding was not foolproof birth control. But I couldn’t find it in me to care. Being with Jasper was all that mattered. This was bigger than me and my anxieties.
“Please.”
He bit down on one nipple, pulling a gasp from me, then lapped at it, easing the sting.
“You are all my fantasies come to life.” He pinned my arms above my head.
“All your fantasies?” I rolled my hips, reveling in the weight of him on top of me.
He entered me slowly, then took his time setting a rhythm, his eyes closed like he was savoring the delicious friction. “Almost. Because I wish I’d been able to see you pregnant.”
