“I think…” I pull her close to me so that I can whisper in her ear. “That you look stunning in this dress,mon coeur. But fuck, do I want to tear it off of you.”
Teagan looks all around us, then walks backward and drags me into the changing room with her.
There are no words, only heated glances as she quickly undresses, while I pull my cock out of my jeans. As soon as her dress is pooled around her feet, she bends over, hands on the rack with the dresses on it.
I run my fingers through her slit, ensuring she’s ready, which she is, so I swiftly enter her. Gripping her hair, I turn her head so that she looks at us in the mirror. Her bent over, swollen belly hanging with her tits as I fuck her mercilessly.
“That’s right, watch as I fill this pretty pussy up,” I murmur, hoping the chatter of the store is enough to block out the noises coming from our room.
I reach around to play with her clit as I fuck her, feeling her tighten around me as I bring her closer to that peak. We both go off at the same time, doing our best to be quiet as we come. I knew neither of us would last long, and a quick fuck is exactly what we needed.
After months of us holding back, it’s as if we’re trying to make up for lost time now with how needy our bodies are for each other.
I’m not complaining, though.
We clean up the best we can, then I pay for the dress and we get the hell out of there.
I feel mischievous, an ode to my younger self, who was always getting into trouble with Camille.
And God it feels good to feel that part of myself come back to life.
Chapter 44
Teagan
I’m exhausted.
In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been fucked and had countless orgasms. While it’s been amazing, it’s also tiring being five months pregnant.
That’s why I’m sitting on the couch in Quentin’s shirt as he finishes making dinner, listening to the new Sleep Token album while I color.
Quentin hums along as he cooks, and I pop my head over the couch at him.
“You know this song?” I ask, bemused.
“I know you like this band, and this song’s good. So I’ve been listening to it,” he replies, as if it’s not one of the sweetest things I’ve heard.
My cheeks heat as I turn back to my coloring book, unable to reply because there are no words to explain how grateful I am that despite our differences, he tries to enjoy the things I do.
The man made a playlist of music I like and listened to it to get to know me. Who does that?
A good man, I think to myself.
Quentin brings me a plate full of baked chicken with steamed vegetables, rice, and a Caesar salad.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I put my coloring things away and grab the plate to put it on my lap.
He smiles at me and I turn to goo on the inside. It makes me want to cringe because who the hell have I become? A man smiles at me and I’m putty? The old Teagan would be so disappointed.
But the new Teagan? She’s pretty damn proud of herself.
We eat on the couch together side by side as we have small talk, with the music still playing.
Once we’re finished, I say, “I’ll clean up.”
I begin to stand up when Quentin moves quicker, grabbing both of our plates. “Not a chance. Rest.”
Where I’d argue before, now I simply nod and fall back onto the couch as I do exactly what he said.
