I’m hard within seconds, my cock throbbing and rigid. She’s not the only one who slept naked. My body covers hers as I position myself over her, and we kiss lazily but eagerly all at once.
Monroe parts her thighs to welcome me closer, every part of her so fucking silky and soft it makes me even harder.
I’m left reminded how over the next nine months her body will change even more. She’ll become even softer and rounder as she grows my baby.
I push into her gradually, groaning at the pulsing wet heat that greets me. She flicks her tongue against mine and tangles her fingers in my hair. Her breathing has deepened as we come together and immediately lose ourselves in the sensations.
The fullness of my cock resting inside her pussy. The slick moisture of her arousal as she spasms around me. The sparks of pleasure that shoot up my shaft.
My thrusts mirror the kisses we’ve traded—long and leisurely, taking my time and savoring each second.
I drag my hips back and grip her thighs as I press more kisses to her lips. Her body gyrates in tune with mine, adding more friction between us.
The room is quiet except for the distant sounds of the neighborhood paired against our breathless groans and gasps.
I hit her sweet spot, and she bows against me, mouth agape and nails digging into my shoulders. We pleasure each other this way, bodies flushed and rocking, until she’s coming and I’m only a few strokes behind.
The once quiet room fills with Monroe’s sharp little cry. Then it’s followed by my deeper, lower grunt as I bury my face in the crook of her neck and an intense wave of pleasure consumes me.
Even our come down is unhurried and lazy.
We roll apart with sated expressions and faster breath than usual, the sheets a tangled mess around us.
Monroe’s bonnet has half slipped off, and I got some cum on the bedsheet when I pulled out. But when our gazes meet, her large dark eyes are sparkling and the corner of her lips curve.
“Welp, that’s probably the best morning alarm possible,” she quips. “But that’salsohow I wound up pregnant in the first place.”
I lean over and drop a kiss to her collarbone. “No regrets.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I bet you don’t have any. You probably planned it all along.”
We finally drag ourselves out of bed and head into the bathroom for a shower.
One of the many perks of living in our much more spacious apartment is that we can now indulge in them together.
In my old apartment in Gijang-gun, the bathroom barelyfit one adult, let alone two. Monroe’s place in Seomyeon was hardly any better.
But our new home boasts a shower more than large enough for two bodies.
Steam fogs up the room as hot water cascades over us. Monroe stands beneath the spray, her head tipped back, shower cap firmly on, water streaming down her curves.
Then we’re switching places with me under the spray.
By the time we emerge, wrapped in towels and still slightly damp, the sun has fully risen and the apartment glows with warm morning light.
Monroe disappears into the closet and returns wearing one of my cotton T-shirts. It hangs loosely on her frame, the hem brushing her mid-thigh, the neckline slipping off one shoulder. She looks comfortable and adorable, her curls out and free (she recently got rid of what she calls her vacation braids).
I cock a brow at her. “Stealing my shirts again, Tokki-ya?”
“What? I like them.”
“Clearly.”
“They’re roomy. And soft.” She plucks at the fabric, then grins at me. “Plus, I still have a whole week before school starts. I’m allowed to be comfortable.”
I have no complaints. The way the cotton drapes over her body, hinting at the curves underneath without revealing them, is more enticing than any lingerie could be.
She pads into the kitchen and begins pulling ingredients from the refrigerator and cabinets—eggs, butter, sausages, a loaf of bread. I settle onto one of the stools at the kitchen island as I check my phone for any new developments regarding the Baekho Pa.
