Page 144 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

“You think that’s funny?” he said.

“A little.”

He reached down and stroked me once, slow and direct, and the sound I made was embarrassing. His mouth curved.

“Say that again,” he said.

“Don’t be smug.”

He did it again, slower, and my back arched off the mattress.

“Amai—”

“There it is.” He pressed his forehead to mine, his voice dropping to something low and unhurried, even though nothing about the rest of him was unhurried. “Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

I pulled him down to my ear, my lips brushing his skin. “I want you inside me. Deep. I want to feel you everywhere.”

His breath caught. “Fuck, Truth⁠—”

“Don’t make me wait,” I whispered. “I’ve been waiting all morning.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his jaw tight, his eyes dark and fixed on mine. “You’re going to take all of it?”

“Every inch.”

A low sound rumbled from his chest—something between a groan and a curse. He shifted his weight, positioning himself, and I felt the head of him press against me.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want you,” I breathed. “I want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

He entered me in one smooth motion. The first thrust pulled a sound out of me I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried. He pressed his face into my neck and moved—deep and slow, finding the rhythm like he’d been keeping time to it all night. I dug my fingers into his back, and he groaned low in his throat, the kind of sound that came from the chest.

“Right there,” I breathed. “Don’t stop. Right there.”

“I got you.” His mouth found my ear. “It’s not supposed to be this fucking good, bae.”

He picked up the pace, and I stopped trying to think. We moved together the way we had for two weeks now—no negotiation, no adjustment, just this locked-in synchronization that still felt new enough to catch me off guard and familiar enough to feel like coming home. His hand slid under my lower back, tilting me toward him, and I gasped.

“There,” he said against my skin, like he’d been looking for it. “That’s it.”

“Amai.”

“Say my name again.”

“Amai.” I said it into his jaw. “Right there—don’t you dare stop⁠—”

He didn’t stop. He pressed deeper and held. I felt the tension coiling low and tight, and I grabbed his face and made him look at me because I wanted to see his face when it happened, wanted him to see mine.

“Come on,” I breathed. “Come with me⁠—”

“Truth—” My name in his mouth like it cost him something.

“I got you,” I said. “Let go. Let go, baby⁠—”