“Cover your ears, baby girl.”
I laughed, but the laugh turned into a moan when his mouth finally reached where I needed him.
His tongue was hot and wet, lapping at me slow at first, tasting me like I was something precious. My thighs fell open wider, giving him better access, and he groaned against me like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
“Missed this pussy,” he murmured. “My pussy.”
“Yours,” I breathed. “All yours.”
He sucked my clit into his mouth and my hips bucked off the bed. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open, holding me still while his tongue worked me over. Two fingers slid inside—easy, I was so wet—and curled up to find that spot that made me see stars.
I came embarrassingly fast. Weeks of stress and loneliness and fear exploding out of me. I cried out his name, my thighs shaking around his head, my whole body trembling through it.
He didn’t stop.
“Prime— wait— I can’t?—”
“You can. Give me another one.”
His tongue flicked faster, his fingers pumped deeper, and I felt another orgasm building before the first one even finished. The pregnancy had made everything more intense—I was wetter than I’d ever been, more sensitive, and when I came the second time, I soaked his face.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “That’s my girl. So fucking wet for me.”
By the time he finally kissed his way back up my body, I was boneless. Floating. I could taste myself on his lips and I didn’t even care.
“I need to feel you,” I whispered. “Please. I need you inside me.”
“I got you.”
He helped me roll onto my side, facing away from him. Spooned up behind me, one hand on my hip, the other reaching around to cup my belly protectively.
I felt him at my entrance. Hot and hard and thick, the head sliding through my wetness.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against my ear. “We can stop whenever you want.”
“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He pushed in slowly. So slowly. Giving my body time to adjust, time to stretch around him. The pregnancy had made everything tighter, more swollen, and I felt every single inch of him.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You feel different. Tighter. Wetter. So fucking good, Zai.”
He started to move. Slow, deep strokes that made me feel full in a way I’d been craving. His hand stayed on my belly, protective even now, and something about that made my heart crack open.
“This still mine?” he asked, stroking deeper.
“Yes—”
“Say it.”
“Yours. I’m yours, Prime. All of me.”
“That’s right.” He kissed my neck, sucked at my pulse point. “This pussy is mine. This belly is mine. This baby is mine. You are mine. And I’m never letting you go again.”
I reached back, gripping his hip, pulling him deeper. He groaned and picked up the pace—still careful, still gentle, but hitting spots that made my eyes roll back.
“Harder,” I begged. “Please?—”
“Can’t hurt you. Can’t hurt the baby?—”
