I break from her lips only long enough to growl against them, “You want me,” my voice gritty. “I’ll give it all to you.”
“I want it,” she groans.
My hands guide her down to the couch with greed.
I ease down over her, braced on one arm. I push her legsopen and press my body between them, cock eager and pressing hard against my zipper with a painful desperation and she matches my need by pressing her hips into me.
My fingers can’t get through the damn buttons of her uniform shirt fast enough, but when her breasts fall out to the sides, I yank down her bra.
“Christ…” my deep voice rumbles.
Her breasts are even bigger now than months ago in that hotel.
Fuck me.
I clamp my mouth down over her nipple, and she gasps as I suck the mound into my mouth.
Her body arches up, and I can feel the heat between her legs right through those uniform pants of hers. I rub my fingers over the fabric at her center, where I swear she’s already wet. “Fuck, are you already soaked for me, honey?”
She drags my shirt up and off. “Why don’t you find out?”
I kiss her hard, messy, and deep while I undo her belt, and she helps me with the button, the zipper…
“Your body,” I mutter against her lips, then her neck. “It’s my undoing.”
I tug the rest of her shirt over her head, and somehow, she’s already pushing her pants down, kicking them away until she’s there in front of me—bare, flushed, breathtaking on my sofa.
Every instinct in me surges forward. But then my gaze drops.
Her belly.
I’ve seen it beneath fabric, beneath layers meant to keep me steady. This is different. This is undeniable.
That’s our baby.
I place my hand there. We both still. I’m hard as hell,blood pounding, but through my hand is impossible awe. Responsibility. The weight of what we made together.
Her skin is warm beneath my palm, deep bronze and real and alive. She’s not some fantasy. She’s here. In my hands. And beneath it all is our child.
She watches me take it in, then smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Her hand covers mine, then guides it lower, between her legs, breaking my spell.
I slide my hand inside her panties, spreading her pussy lips and finding her swollen bud. I circle it until she widens her thighs and arches toward my touch.
“Fuck,” she breathes, teeth catching her lip. “This feels even better pregnant.”
I brace one hand on the couch because I’m dangerously close to losing it from the feel of her slick folds on my fingertips. I circle her slowly, then take brief pauses to slide two fingers inside her, letting her feel every inch of my control. She’s hot and tight and already so ready, and as much as my aching cock wants to be inside her, I want to make her come apart first.
I take her in— body arched, the curve of her belly, full with my child. Her legs spread wide for me. Her nipples are tight, peaked, impossible to ignore. I grit my teeth, forcing the animal in me to slow the hell down.
She presses her core into my hand; every time my fingers move inside her, she thrusts up into them, desperate, urging me faster, closer. Her breathing turns wild, broken. Everything between her legs is swollen and gushing until finally her body tightens, her rhythm chasing mine.
“Uh…” she gasps, the sound torn from her as she shudders around my fingers.
I ease in and out of her, measured, controlled, until shefinally opens her eyes and fumbles for my jeans, fingers curling like she can’t wait another second.
“Lose the pants…” she moans. “Get in me…now.” She seems partially out of her mind, and I can’t say I’m not there with her. She shoves at my waistband, breath ragged. ‘Now, Anton.”
I push my jeans and boxer briefs off, and they hit the floor. Her hands are on my chest, then my back, then in my hair. She grabs me everywhere, dragging, clutching, pulling like she can’t decide where she needs me most.
