His eyes darken, heat flaring… God, that turns him on.
I see it in the way his jaw tightens, his free hand gripping my thigh possessively.
“You want to play dangerous?” he rasps, fingers speeding up now, thrusting firmer but still so damn mindful of the baby, angling away from my belly. He crooks them just right, hitting that spot over and over, thumb circling my clit with relentless precision until I’m soaking his hand, trembling on the edge.
“Ohhh… Ohhh yes, Anton.”
He pulls his fingers free with a slick sound, leaving me empty and aching. I gasp at the loss, but he’s already there, pressing the thick length of his cock between my folds, sliding it back and forth, slow and deliberate. The blunt head drags over my clit, then lower, parting my lips, coating himself in my wetness. Left to right, right to left, a torturous glide that has my hips chasing him, desperate.
“Ahh, Anton, yes, right there,” I moan, voice breaking, biting back the curse that wants to spill. “Don’t stop, please, I need—”
I feel him everywhere, hard and hot between my thighs, pulsing against my entrance, teasing without entering. My hand finds his cock, fingers barely closing around the girth, veins throbbingunder my palm, the slick head nudging my clit with every pass. He’s steel and velvet, and I’m dripping for him.
“Not yet,” he growls, voice gravel and smoke. “You come first.” He shifts, sliding two fingers back into me—thick, sure, curling deep while his thumb keeps that maddening rhythm on my clit.
The command shatters me—the build too intense, his fingers relentless, curling and pumping until the orgasm rips through me, my walls clenching hard around him, wetness spilling as I cry out, body shaking in waves.
He doesn’t pull away, easing me down with gentler strokes before withdrawing, only to shift above me, his cock pressing at my entrance. He slides in slow—not too deep, holding back like he’s afraid to hurt the baby, just enough to fill me with that exquisite stretch, his thickness dragging against my sensitive walls.
“Uhmm…” I gasp, nails scraping his back, urging him.
He shakes his head, sweat glistening on his skin, eyes fierce on mine.
“Easy. For you both.” But need cracks his control—thrusts shallow at first, rocking in measured rolls that tease every nerve, building heat anew. I clench around him, legs hooking his waist, and he groans, pace quickening, cock pulsing as he grinds deeper than intended but still restrained, the slick slide of us intoxicating.
His hand slips between us, thumb finding my clit again, rubbing firm circles that have me unraveling fast.
“Again,” he demands, hips snapping with careful power, filling me perfectly each time. I shatter once more, clenching tight, pulling him over the edge with me—he buries himself as far as he dares, body tensing, a guttural growl escaping as he comes, hot pulses flooding me, his tremors matching mine.
We collapse together, breaths ragged, his weight a protective shield.
He’s still inside me, softening slowly, that intimate warmth lingering as our bodies pulse in aftershocks. I feel every inch of him—thick even now, veins faint echoes under sensitive skin, a slick reminder of what we just shared. My mind’s foggy, high on the rush, limbs heavy and tingling like I’m floating.
He pulls out gently, a soft groan escaping him, and I whimper at the sudden emptiness. His lips brush my forehead, tender, lingering there.
“Breathe,malyshka,” he murmurs, voice rough but soft, his hand stroking my hair as if to ground me. I’m still buzzing, skin electric, heart pounding wild.
God, he undoes me every time.
“You make me want to be better,” he whispers. “Maybe that’s why I’m planning so many things.
I open my eyes, blinking through the haze to meet his gaze—those stormy depths pulling me in, always.
“Tell me one,” I breathe.
He meets my eyes, that rare softness breaking through the steel.
“Making sure our daughter has a father who shows up. Every day. Every moment that matters.” His hand slides to my stomach, protective. Awed. “Making sure she never wonders if she’s loved. Making sure she never feels alone, the way—”
His voice catches.
“The way we did,” I finish for him.
“Yes.” The word comes out broken. “I can’t give her back the parents we lost. But I can give her everything I never had. Everything you never had. A father who stays. Who protects. Who loves her mother so much she never doubts what love looks like.”
Tears spill over. I can’t stop them.
Because he gets it. He understands that this isn’t just about making a baby. It’s about breaking cycles. About building something neither of us knew how to build because no one showed us.
