We talked about the bond on and off. Not big conversations. Small ones. In bed at night, her back against my chest, half asleep. Over breakfast while Alex threw cereal at Buddy. She’d ask a question about how it worked, I’d answer, and she’d go quiet for a while, turning it over the way she turned everything over.
One night after dinner, Alex was down early. Andrea had put him in the nursery at seven, which never happened, and I found her in the bathroom brushing her hair with the door open, wearing my shirt, the ring catching the light on her hand.
“He’s out,” she said. “Fed, changed, dead to the world.”
“Miracle.”
“Right?” She set the brush down. Looked at herself in the mirror for a second. Then she walked into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at me.
Something in her face was different. Settled. Decided.
“I’m ready.”
I looked at her. My heart picked up. “For the bond?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Finneas, I’ve been sure for weeks. I was just waiting until I felt like a person again instead of a milk-producing zombie.” Shetucked her legs under her. “I’m me right now. Not exhausted me, not hormonal me. Just me. And I want to do this. It’s been three months since I gave birth and my libido is asking for it.”
“It’s permanent.”
“I know it’s permanent. That’s the whole point.”
I took her hands. “Once we do this, you feel everything I feel. Both ways. Not just the good stuff. The fear, the anger, the shit I still carry from everything I put us through.”
“Good. I don’t want the censored version of you. I want all of it. Even the ugly parts.”
“There are a lot of ugly parts.”
“I’ve seen most of them. I’m still here.”
She grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me in, her lips crashing against mine with that familiar fire that always hit me like a punch to the gut.
The kiss deepened fast, her tongue sliding against mine, tasting like the wine we’d shared earlier while Alex slept in the nursery down the hall. My hands went to her waist, fingers digging into the soft fabric of my old button-up she wore, unbuttoned just enough to tease the curve of her breasts. Three months postpartum, and her body had changed: fuller hips, softer belly, tits bigger and heavier than before. She was self-conscious about it, I knew, but fuck, she was perfect to me. Every inch of her screamed mine, and my wolf stirred close to the surface, eyes flickering gold in the dim lamplight.
I pulled back just enough to murmur against her mouth, “Last chance to back out.” My voice came out rough, thick with the weight of it, this mating bond, the one thing that would tie us soul-deep. I’d waited years for this, held back until she was ready, until she chose it on her terms.
“I’m ready,” she said, no hesitation, her hands sliding up my chest to push the shirt off my shoulders. “Don’t make me repeat it, Finneas. I want you, all of you.” That snarky edge in her tone cut through the tension, making me chuckle low even as my heart hammered.
I kissed her again, slower this time, deliberate, my hands working the buttons of the shirt open one by one, savoring the reveal. It fell apart, exposing her bare skin, and I broke the kiss to look, really look. Her nipples were hard peaks, her stomach marked with faint lines from the pregnancy, hips wider and inviting. But those tits, fuck, they were bigger now, swollen and full from nursing our son, begging for my mouth. “God, look at these,” I growled, cupping them in my palms, feeling their weight. “Bigger, heavier, perfect for my hands. Carrying our kid did this to you, and it’s so goddamn sexy. I love how they fill out like this, Andrea. You’re stunning.”
She shivered under my touch, a flush creeping up her neck, but she didn’t hide. Instead, she tugged at my belt, unbuckling it with quick fingers. “Less talking, more touching,” she muttered, that dimple flashing in her cheek as she smirked. But her breath hitched when I leaned down, taking one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. She moaned soft, fingers threading through my dark hair, holding me there. “Fuck, Finneas...”
I lavished attention on her breasts, alternating sides, sucking and licking until they glistened, my teeth grazing just enough to make her arch. “These tits are incredible now,” I murmured against her skin, one hand kneading the other while my mouth worked. “So full, so responsive. I could worship them all night, bite, suck, make you feel how much I crave every change in you.” My free hand trailed lower, over her belly, appreciating the softness there too, before dipping between her thighs. She was wet already, pussy slick under my fingers as I parted her folds, circling her clit slow and teasing.
“That’s it,” I praised, lifting my head to watch her face, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. “You taste so good everywhere, baby. Spread your legs for me, let me feel how ready you are.” She did, thighs parting wider on the edge of the bed, and I slid one finger inside her, then two, curling them to hit that spot while my thumb kept pressure on her clit. Her hips bucked, a gasp escaping, and I kissed back up her neck, nipping at her earlobe. “So wet for me already. Your pussy’s gripping my fingers like it needs more. You’re doing so good, Andrea, relaxing into it, letting me take my time.”
She pulled me up for another kiss, her hand wrapping around my cock through my pants, stroking firm and insistent. Pre-cum leaked, soaking the fabric, and she squeezed, making me hiss. “Enough foreplay,” she demanded, voice breathy but steady, though I caught the underlying nerves. “Inside me. Now.”
I stripped off my shirt, then pants, cock springing free, hard and aching. She kicked off her panties, climbing fully onto the bed, pulling me down with her. We moved slow, bodies aligning like they always did, her legs parting for me, my weight careful on top, mindful of her still-recovering body. I rubbed the headof my cock against her entrance, coating myself in her wetness, teasing her clit a few more times until she whimpered. Then I pushed in slow, inch by inch, her walls clenching tight around me. We both groaned, the stretch familiar but electric tonight, charged with what was coming. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” I rasped, bottoming out, holding still to let her adjust. “So tight, so wet for me. You’re doing so good, taking my cock deep.” My eyes flickered gold again, wolf possessive, the word mate echoing in my head like a drum.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, heels digging into my ass, urging me to move. I did, thrusting slow and deep, building the rhythm unhurried. Our eyes locked, hers green and fierce, mine probably glowing now, and the intensity hit hard. This wasn’t just sex; it was the seal on three years of tension, love, fights, and forgiveness. My hands roamed her body, tracing the changes I adored: the softness of her belly, the swell of her hips, back up to squeeze her breasts again, thumbs flicking her nipples. “I love this body,” I whispered, lips brushing her ear. “Every part of you, strong, sexy, mine. These bigger tits, your curves, perfect, Andrea. Carrying our kid made you even hotter.”
Her snark slipped out in a gasp-laugh. “Flatterer. Just fuck me already.” But her hands clutched my shoulders, nails biting in, and I felt her nerves under the surface, trusting me with this permanent step.
I picked up the pace a little, hips rolling to hit that spot inside her, my thumb finding her clit again. She moaned louder, pussy fluttering around my cock. “That’s my girl,” I growled, wolf close, gold in my vision. “Ride it out. You feel so fucking good, gripping me like you never want to let go. You’re everything tome.” Sweat slicked our skin, the bed creaking soft under us, the air thick with our scents.
