Page 56 of Fractured Destiny

I know because I checked the tracker on my phone forty minutes ago when I got up to pee for the third time tonight.

We came off I-10 outside Deming a couple of hours ago. Currently, we’re rolling east on I-25. It’s two in the morning and pitch black outside the coach, the sole light in our back bedroom is a small brass sconce above the bed.

We haven’t slept in our new house for months.

I’m on my side facing the window with my belly resting on the pillow I’ve arranged for it, knees drawn up, My back’s against Lake’s chest and he’s currently fucking me from behind.

Slow.

Slow because it’s two in the morning and our nanny, Marta, is in the bunk across from Levi twenty feet up the aisle. The walls are sound-dampened, but they aren’t vault-sealed and Lake already put his hand over my mouth and whispered baby, shh, when I moaned after he made me come the first time.

Also slow because I’m thirty-eight weeks pregnant and my husband desires me more than ever. Who am I to say no when he loves to redirect his after-show high into worshipping my body one square inch at a time?

His right hand cups my belly. His left hand cups my breast. His mouth is at the back of my neck.

He moves inside me. Pulls back until he’s almost out then pushes back in inch by inch along the spot he knows I need. My pussy grips him. He groans against the back of my neck, low, into my hair.

“Lake,” I breathe.

“Yeah.”

“You feel incredible.” I arch against him. “Do it again.”

Oh, he does it again. And again.

At thirty-eight weeks my body’s a different country than a year ago and he’s taken pride in learning every nuance. He knows everything because he’s made me come every night for last five months on this bus, in dressing rooms, and in hotel suites.

Lake’s hand slides from my belly up my ribs to cup my full breast in his palm. His thumb worries over my nipple. I know what he’s up to.

The pressure has been building. Ten days ago, during a show, there was a slow, warm ache in the fullness of my breast, then a release. I looked down to find wet, dark stains on my shirt.

It’s driven Lake out of his mind. Tonight my breast is already wet against his palm before he can lightly squeeze. I gasp when it releases. He grunts and his cock jerks inside me.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans into my hair. “Look at you.”

He lifts up onto his elbow and looks over my shoulder at his hand on my leaking breast. His fingers close around my nipple and roll it. It’s huge and dark, almost twice its usual size. The tip is beaded with my milk. He catches it with his thumb, brings it to his mouth, and licks it off.

His eyes close for one second.

My pussy clenches around him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Yeah.”

Lake kisses the tip of my shoulder. I back a little to give him access and tilt my breast up toward him. He lowers his mouth and closes his lips around my swollen, dripping nipple. He runs his tongue over the tip. Sucks lightly. Swallows as he makes a rough sound around my nipple.

He cannot get enough. Neither can I.

Who knew this was a thing?

His eyes come up to mine over my shoulder. Wrecked. “You taste so sweet.”

His hand slides down from my breast to the round, tight fullness of my belly and splays there wide, fingers spread across our daughter, and he holds her from the outside while his mouth returns to my nipple.

I close my eyes when the fingers on his other hand find my clit.

She. We found out in a room at Swedish Hospital and he cried because he wasn’t able to be there for Levi. We agreed on Lova, Lova Lyon. Lova for my Swedish grandmother, the word for love in her language.

His tongue works my nipple slow as he thrusts up into me from behind. My top leg falls open across his thigh, letting him go deeper from the angle. I’m opened around him and my whole body is a tuning fork. My clit is swollen, pussy engorged. My orgasm builds and he can feel it.