I slide my palm between her thighs from behind, cupping her slick heat, and two fingers gliding through her folds. She pushes back with a broken moan, hips rolling, chasing friction.
“You are so greedy,” I rasp against her ear, circling her clit with the pad of my thumb.
Her answer is a breathless laugh that melts into a whimper when I sink three fingers deep, curling hard.
I scissor gentle, stretching her open, feeling her pulse around me like a heartbeat. Bonnie’s head falls to the pillow, her spine arching, thighs spreading wider on a silent plea.
I reward her with a fourth finger, knuckles grazing that spot that makes her toes curl.
“Ghost—fuck—right there,” she gasps, when my knuckle grazes the spot that makes her toe curl. I keep the rhythm steady until her hips jerk and the second orgasm rolls through her. She rides it out loud in soft, filthy cries muffled in the pillow.
I don’t let her crash; I ease my fingers free, line my cock up, and sink in one slow, burning inch. Her back bows, a shockedohspilling from her lips as I bottom out, belly curve cradled against my abs.
I roll my hips shallow, dragging over every nerve, hand splayed over the swell that’s mine.
“Feel that?” I growl, voice gravel.
She answers by clenching hard.
I speed up just enough to make her gasp, then slow again, drawing it out until she’s begging in broken whispers. Her third climax hits her suddenly—she bites the pillow, her whole body shaking, pussy gushing around me.
I follow on the next stroke, spilling deep. Hot pulses coat her walls; I stay buried, grinding slowly and riding every aftershock with her.
I ease out and roll her into my arms.
Bonnie turns her face into my neck, lips brushing my pulse. “Again soon?” she murmurs, voice wrecked and happy.
I answer with a kiss to her temple, thumb stroking the swell of her belly in lazy circles.
“Ghost?” Her voice is sleepy.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
I tense. “For what?”
“If this isn’t how you hoped your life would go.” She traces patterns on my chest. “You probably had plans. Things you wanted to do. And now you’re stuck with me and a baby and a war and?—”
“Stop.”
She goes quiet.
I tilt her chin up so she’s looking at me. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not unhappy about it. My life before this was missions and orders and killing people I didn’t know for reasons I didn’t always understand. This—” I gesture between us. “This is the first time I’ve felt like I had something worth protecting that was mine.”
Her eyes get wet. “Really?”
“Really.” I pull her closer. “I don’t know how to be a father, but I know I want to try.”
A tear slides down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb.
“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once,” she whispers.
“Don’t get used to it.”
She laughs softly. “Too late.”
I kiss her forehead and pull the blanket over us. My hand stays on her stomach. On my child. “Sleep,” I say.
