His chuckling breath skitters over my neck, waking up parts of my body moments ago at rest.
“What’s ‘a little’ awake?”
“I’m awake, but I’m trying not to be.”
“Oh.” Disappointment coats his whisper. “Go back to sleep then.”
I roll over to face him, picking out the planes of his handsome face hidden in the shadows of half-light.
“What is it?” I ask. “You wanna talk?”
“No.” The smile I can’t see is easily heard, and a warm hand traverses the curve of my hip. “I wanna fuck.”
I’m immediately ready, my nipples tightening and my toes curling at the crude answer. I wrap my hand around the stiff length between his legs.
“Is that a yes?” He feathers kisses over my shoulder, licking at the ink he can’t see but knows by heart is there.
“Whatever you want,” I whisper, my hand setting a steady, tugging pace.
“Oooooooh.” Grip’s breath mists my nipples. “Even anal?”
My hand stops abruptly, apparently striking into him fear that I will abandon the mission.
“Just kidding, just kidding,” he says hastily, laughing over a nipple. He suckles vigorously then languorously, the varied pace driving me wet and crazy. “You’re gonna breastfeed, right?”
I gasp when his teeth lightly graze the sensitive underside of my breast.
“Is that really what you want to talk about right now?” I ask breathlessly. “My breasts as a source of nourishment?”
“I’m down to talk about these breasts twenty-four seven.”
His tongue flicks over my ribs, and he slides lower until all I can make out is the shape of his head under the covers. He licks into and then blows over my belly button, and I feel his breath whispering over my stomach. He’s having a conversation with the baby again, but before I can demand to know what he’s saying, he lavishes openmouth kisses over the small mound above my pelvis. He scoots even farther down, gently lifting my legs over his shoulders and opening me up, pressing his face into the weeping center of my body.
I hear him draw a long sniff. I stopped being self-conscious about that a long time ago. Now it just turns me on that he loves the way I smell. His big hands cup my ass and he brings me to his mouth, tasting me with lazy laps of his tongue like a big cat and I’m his sugar-rimmed saucer. My hands wander up to my breasts, circling my palms, massaging them the way he does. The darts of pleasure radiating from my nipples in harmony with the unbearable pleasure of my pussy make me drip. The stubble coating his jaw, an erotic scrape, leaves an illicit burn. He moans against me, hastening the pace of my hips. He flattens his tongue on my clit, spreading the wetness all along the slit, dipping lower to lick that tiny puckered hole. His tongue there sets fire to nerve endings that have been cloistered away, sensations I’ve never felt. One thick thumb slides in and I lock up, unsure of what he’s about to do.
“Relax,” he whispers, raining kisses across the lips. “I got you.”
Before I can think more of it, his thumb starts moving in tandem with his lips and teeth feeding on my clit.
“God!” All the air whooshes from my body and I buck, my torso and hips lifting under the covers. He ruthlessly lays an arm over my waist, keeping me in place while his thumb and mouth conspire, driving me to madness, a mindless creature gnawing on her fist, clawing at the sheets, and wailing into the dawn. His thumb works its way into some heretofore undiscovered inner sanctum, and the pleasure is pyrotechnic. It explodes, its wick burning through my belly, up my back, and lighting up the muscles of my thighs. Just like a fire- work, once ignited, I streak across the sky, bright and flaring, then land motionless . . . still . . . spent.
He handles me tenderly, turning me to my side, enveloping me, chest pressed to my back. He palms the shallow valley between my breasts, sandwiching us together until there’s room for nothing. Only love could slip into a space this small. He lifts my leg and passes his dick between the cheeks of my ass and over my pussy repeatedly, a sensuous prelude that elicits moans from my throat, tight with unshed tears.
“Grip, please.” I’m literally panting, begging, reaching behind me, grasping at his neck and head, desperately reaching for something to anchor me. I don’t care which hole he’s about to fuck, I just need him inside. The space between us throbs with need. My nerves are stretched to gossamer, the anticipation blazing through my patience, and I’m pressing my ass into him. I thrust back in a rolling rhythm meant to tempt him, meant to hurry him, but when he finally slides inside, it’s slow and measured. He’s feeding himself to my body in stiff inches, in short pumps, agitating me.
“Faster.” I twine my fingers with his between my breasts. “Please go fast. I need it fast.”
He doesn’t answer, just maintains the steady pace, and my body clamps around him with each withdrawal, afraid he won’t come back. I’m a seaside fire he’s methodically building, taking his time with. Soon I’m a roaring bonfire, flames tossed by the wind and licking high into the air. My moans and whimpers dance with his grunts and groans in the early morning quiet.
His lips coast over my nape as his other hand cups my small belly.
“Bris, you have no idea,” he whispers into my hair. “The thought of you, the sight of you pregnant . . . I’m hard all the time. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t want to be rough, but—”
“You can be,” I insist, pressing back into him, luring him deeper into my body. I contract my inner muscles around him, a deliberate provocation.
“Shit, Bris.” His forehead pushes into the base of my skull.
I’ve pulled a lever within him and he turns fast, his tempo feverish. Every time I think he must be almost done, he changes the angle, setting off another constellation of stars behind my eyelids. He’s in full heat, full rut, the instincts of his body dictating every thrust and moan. Light creeps through the drapes, and the vibrant colors of sunrise quietly invade our room while sweat runs freely over our skin, adorning his chest and my back, a wet, sensuous slide that our bodies lap up. I’ve lost count of my orgasms. I’m limp, my muscles and bones loose and liquid even as he still hammers into me.