"Believe me," I say as I slide my palms up the insides of her legs, thumbs brushing the slick crease where thigh meets core. She’s soaked. Swollen. The lips of her pussy are flushed dark pink and parted just enough to show the glistening entrance. Pregnancy has made her even more sensitive here; the lightest touch makes her hips twitch.
I lean in and drag the flat of my tongue from beneath her entrance all the way up to her clit in one slow, deliberate stroke.
Her whole body jolts. A sharp, needy sound escapes her throat.
I blow cool air across her wet flesh just to watch her shiver. “You taste amazing.”
I cover her with my mouth.
No teasing today. No slow build. I’ve been half-hard since the moment I walked in and saw her like this. Round and ripe, and I’m not in the mood to be patient.
I suck her clit between my lips, firm and steady, flicking the underside with the tip of my tongue in the fast little rhythm I know makes her thighs shake. At the same time, I slide two fingers inside her slow enough to feel every flutter of her walls as they try to pull me deeper.
She cries out. One hand flies to my hair, gripping hard. The other fists the sheet.
“Fuck—Artem—right there—”
I growl against her so she feels the vibration. Curl my fingers, find that rough patch inside, and rub it in tight circles while my tongue works her clit without mercy.
Her hips start rolling, small, helpless thrusts she can’t control. Her belly rises and falls faster.
She’s close already. I can tell by the way her thighs tremble, by the broken little whimpers she’s trying to swallow, by how slippery she’s getting, coating my chin, my palm.
I pull my mouth away just long enough to rasp against her soaked flesh:
“Come for me, Kira. Drench my tongue. Show me how much this pretty pussy loves being owned.”
Then I seal my lips around her clit again and suck hard while I pump my fingers faster, curling on every stroke.
She breaks with a sob that’s half my name, half pure pleasure.
Her walls clamp down so tight I can barely move my fingers. A fresh gush of wetness floods my hand as I try to drink her down, licking through every pulsing wave until she’s shaking, gasping, tugging at my hair like she doesn’t know whether to pull me closer or push me away.
When the hardest of the spasms ease I don’t stop. I soften my tongue, lap gently at her oversensitive clit, coaxing out the sweet aftershocks while she whimpers and twitches.
Finally I lift my head.
Her eyes are glassy. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted.
I rise to my feet, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and look down at her spread open, dripping, flushed from breasts to thighs, belly round and perfect between us.
My cock is throbbing painfully behind my zipper. Has been since the second I put my mouth on her.
I unbuckle my belt. Undo my trousers. Shove them down just enough.
My cock springs free, thick, dark and throbbing for her. I wrap my fist around it and give one slow stroke, spreading the precum.
Kira’s gaze drops to it. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip.
I step closer. Brace one knee on the mattress beside her hip so I’m hovering over her lower body. My free hand goes to her tit, palm flat and possessive, while I work my cock faster.
“Look at me,” I order.
Her eyes snap back to mine.
“This—” I drag the head of my cock through her soaked folds, coating myself in her release, nudging her still-throbbing clit on every pass, “this belongs to me.”
She nods. Small, frantic.
