Pride surges again, sharp and hot. “Like his daddy.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “God help us if he has your temperament.”
“Our son,” I say with certainty. We didn’t find out the gender on purpose, but I know. I feel it. Another piece of me inside her. Another permanent mark. “Proof you’re mine.”
Her breath catches. Even pregnant—especially pregnant—she still responds to that gravel in my voice like it’s a physical touch.
“Later,” she promises, eyes darkening. “After she’s asleep.”
I build the fire while Beck settles Lily for the night. Flames lick up the stone chimney, throwing shadows across the expanded living room. Snow falls heavier outside—good. Keeps the world at a distance. Keeps us contained in our own universe.
The baby monitor carries Beck’s soft singing. Lullaby. Sweet. Gentle. My cock twitches anyway, already anticipating what comes next.
When she steps into the doorway, she’s traded my flannel for a thin nightgown that clings to every changed curve. Fuller breasts. Rounded belly. Hips that flare wider now. She’s never been more beautiful.
“She down?” I ask, pouring her herbal tea.
“Out like a light. Your daughter sleeps like the dead.”
“Not my fault,” I say, though we both know Lily got my combat nap ability. Useful in the field. Disturbing on a baby. I hand Beck the mug.
She settles on the couch, pats the cushion beside her. I sit, pull her legs across my lap, hand automatically finding her belly. The baby moves—stronger kicks, more insistent. Definitely a boy.
“Happy?” she asks, studying my face in the firelight.
The question still catches me sometimes. Before her, no one gave a damn about my happiness.
“Beyond,” I tell her. Honest. Raw. “You? Any regrets about the crazy bastard who hunted you down and knocked you up twice?”
She laughs—soft, warm, washes over me like absolution. “Not a single one.”
Her hand covers mine on her belly. Then she guides our joined hands lower, pressing my palm between her thighs. Heat. Wetness already soaking through her panties.
“Need you,” she whispers. “Need Daddy to take care of me.”
That word still snaps something feral loose in my chest.
I shift her onto her back, growl against her mouth. “Such a needy little girl. Always wet for Daddy.”
She spreads for me without hesitation. Shameless. Desperate. Pregnancy’s only made her hungrier—matches my own constant need perfectly.
I shove the nightgown up, expose her rounded belly. Kiss it once—reverent—then move lower. Beard scraping her thighs as I settle between them. Panties shoved aside. I lick through her folds, taste how ready she is.
“Gray—”
“Daddy,” I correct, voice vibrating against her clit. “Say it.”
“Daddy,” she whimpers. “Please, Daddy, don’t tease.”
I chuckle dark, circle her clit with slow, deliberate licks. Two fingers slide inside, curl to that spot that makes her gasp. She fists my hair, holds me there. Greedy. Perfect.
“That’s it,” I murmur when her thighs start shaking. “Come for Daddy.”
She breaks fast—back arching as much as her belly allows, crying my name. I keep going until she’s tugging my hair, oversensitive and pleading.
I rise to my knees, free my cock—hard, leaking, aching. Stroke myself once while I take in the sight: flushed cheeks, parted lips, pregnant belly round with my child.
“Look at you,” I growl. “Coming so fast on Daddy’s dick..”
