My gorgeous villain gives the best cuddles ever.
Maybe because he’s so much larger in comparison to me. So when he spoons me, he covers my entire body. When he settleshis muscular arm on my waist and presses his splayed palm on my belly where our baby sleeps, he spans my entire torso.
And when I close my eyes at night, I feel safe.
I feel replete and satisfied.
But I know he doesn’t.
I know that.
Because that’s all he ever does.
He makes me come but he never takes his own pleasure.
He doesn’t ever ask anything from me. He doesn’t ever fuck me, and yes, I know it’s a bad word. But I don’t care. I’m bad for him. I always have been.
And yes, I know that fucking will make everything complicated. But I feel so restless without him. I feel so achy. My belly is filled with his baby but I’m so empty.
So what’s a little dirty talk if it means he’ll do it? He’ll domeand put himself out of this misery. And me too.
I don’t even knowwhyhe’s holding back.
I’ve forgiven him, haven’t I? He gets to touch me everywhere, every night. So why would he torture himself like this? Why wouldn’t he take that final step?
Especially when every day he comes to pick me up at school, I see how tense he is. How after a long day of work when he comes home for dinner, how agitated he appears.
That job is killing him and he doesn’t even talk about it; I tried one more time, just casually, to strike up a conversation but he shut me down. So I’m at my wit’s end.
I don’t know what to do, how to give him relief.
So I try this.
I try to make him take me, tempt him as much as I can.
In fact, one night when he’s kissing me on the bed, I make the bold move of pressing my hand on his dick. “You’re hard.”
He is.
He is rubbing me right there, right where my pussy is, his cock.
It’s making a small hill inside his jeans. And it’s so thick and swollen that he always has to pop the button of his jeans to let it breathe. If I focus hard enough I can see the dark shadow of his cock pressing up against the edge of his pants.
“Shut up, Fae,” he growls, taking my hand off his cock and putting it up above my head on the pillow.
Glancing up at him, I say, “But it’s hurting you.”
He grabs my hand harder. “It’s fine.”
“I can help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
I lick my lips. “I can suck on it like you suck on me.”
“Stop talking.”
“Or I can jack you off,” I say from under him, moving my bare pregnant belly against his hard t-shirt-covered abs; because he doesn’t even take his clothes off while he strips me and makes me lose my mind. “I can use my hands. I’ve never done it but if you teach me what to do I —”
