Ever since she’s been pregnant, she’s wanted me more and more every fucking day. It’s the one thing about pregnancy I can definitely get on board with.
If only I could get my head around the fact I’m going to be a dad. That I’ll be going on with my life just a little more, while my sister is six feet under.
I thrust harder and faster as Drew's walls begin to flutter around my cock. She grips my hair tightly, giving me that sting that I like. It has my hips moving quicker and my spine tingles while my balls tighten. The need to come already burns deepinside me, which is no shocker with how this woman gets me riled up.
I break the kiss, but keep our lips touching, and I rasp, “Come for me, baby, give me what I want,” as I keep one hand on her ass and move my other between us. My thumb grazes her enlarged clit, and she gasps before throwing her head back in pleasure as I pinch it hard.
A scream erupts as her walls squeeze my dick and I growl, “Fuck yes,” just as I lose momentum and my hips become choppy as her fluids gush between us and her walls strangle my dick.
I bottom out, my cum painting her walls, and a loud groan from my chest echoes in the small bathroom before I slam my lips back against my girl’s. I shove my tongue into her mouth while I continue to gently strum her clit, ensuring her orgasm lasts while enjoying the way her walls pulse against my cock.
“Bellamy,” Drew gasps then demands, “Take me to bed,” as she grips my hair tightly, then nips my bottom lip.
“With fucking pleasure,” I murmur as I switch the shower off, keeping one hand firmly underneath her ass and walking out of the shower towards our bed, completely soaked, not giving a shit.
I plan to spend as much time inside my girl as possible before she decides to bring the conversation back up again. Knowing her, she will do it sooner rather than later, but I can’t be mad because she is fucking perfect in every single way. She knows me inside and out, what I need, when I need it, and soon, I will be making her my wife.
Chapter 25
Drew
I gently trace my finger along Bellamy’s brow, hoping to ease the worry he has going on, and I sigh when it doesn’t work. Distress etches his features despite being asleep, and that worries me.
Before his family came, he was tense. I’m not stupid. I felt it, and I saw it on his features. In his mind he was never returning home, and he hated that he was going to let his family down. His brothers, the club that wants nothing more than him to take his rightful place but then one phone call and they came running. They have proved to him exactly what he meant to them, what I meant to them. They showed him he is their leader and he will always come first to them and now his eyes are opened despite the guilt he’s trying to not carry anymore but still makes its way into his subconscious.
He wants to go home but is afraid I’ll resent him. I know it doesn’t matter what I say to him, I need to prove to him that if he wants to go home, we can both go.
As much as I love my studio and students, I love Bellamy more. I can find another studio, start again, and continue with my charity shows by travelling here, but he doesn’t see that right now. He only sees his fear. I think I need to bring in the big guns to help convince Bellamy we can do this—if it’s what he truly wants. He won’t lose me, and more importantly, he can confront his past and finally mourn, because he hasn’t yet.
Swallowing hard, I slowly stand as determination to help this man builds deep inside my chest. With one last look at Bell, who still looks stressed in his sleep, I walk out of our bedroom and head to the front door. Before leaving, I place a note on the side table explaining I’ve gone to see my parents. I don’t want him to worry.
Heck, what am I saying? He’ll still be pissed that I snuck out without waking him at five in the morning.
***
“Mom? Dad?” I call ten minutes later, already knowing they’ll be up, as I walk into my childhood home, relieved Elizabeth will still be in bed for this conversation.
While she’s calmed down a little and claims to want to make amends, I’ve seen the way she looks at Bellamy. The lust and want still shines off her, even now, a leopard can’t change its spots. She still wants everything I have, especially my boyfriend. Don’t get me started on the jealous looks she gives my bump—which is absolutely pathetic.
I don’t care that I’m fourteen weeks pregnant, I’m ready to cut a bitch.
“In the kitchen,” Mom calls back.
I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and brace for the anger she’ll most likely throw my way. I walk towards the kitchen while my eyes take in my old home. It’s a place I used to hate coming back to because of Elizabeth. It doesn’t hold any happy memories for me since I was around seven or eight, which is why I find it easy to leave.
I sigh. Dad will be on my side with this. He understands that I don’t hold an emotional attachment to this town or this home after the last time I brought up possibly moving before I met Bell. Mom will probably flip. She’s still trying to make up for neglecting me as a child and in her mind, that has to come before everything.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dad says as I walk into the kitchen, and I smile as I take a seat next to him at the breakfast bar, placing my head on his shoulder.
This is the routine my parents have always had. Mom gets up with Dad early so they can have that quality time together before he goes to work. I must admit, I resented Mom a lot over the years because she never made time for me as she did for Dad and Elizabeth.
“What do we owe this early morning visit? And where is Cage?” Mom asks as she places a cup of decaf coffee in front of me.
I clear my throat as I sit up, suddenly nervous about speaking mainly to her, and I mutter, “Thanks, Mom,” as I wrap my hands around the mug before I decide to go in slowly and admit, “Bellamy is still in bed. I left him a note.”
Not noticing my nerves, Mom chuckles, “He’s not going to like that,” while Dad sighs, picking up my nerves instantly as he wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him.
“You’re moving, aren’t you?” he confirms quietly, but not quietly enough, because Mom spins around from the stove and gasps, “What?”
