Marx Girl

“What?” I whimper.

“If I have to be gentle, then I want you to feel every fucking inch.”

My insides begin to melt and I straddle him.

He positions himself underneath me and pulls me down by my hipbones.

I wince. It’s tight.

“Rock,” he commands.

I rock from side to side, and he watches me struggle to take him with smug satisfaction on his face. His hands stay on my hips, but he doesn’t guide me at all.

He smiles darkly as his eyes stay focused on my sex. “Can you feel the burn, baby?”

“Yes,” I whimper.

“I want you to give it to yourself.”

I begin to get frantic as I rock down to try and get him in.

“Kiss me.” He grabs me by the hair and drags my face to his. He bites my bottom lip and stretches it out. “You open up that beautiful cunt and you take your husband’s cock.” He bites me again. “Deep.”

I moan as I rock.

Oh, God, he’s so fucking hot.

“Now, Bridget,” he growls. “Now.” He bites me harder. “Bring me home.”

I slam down onto him and he grabs my hipbones and begins to pump me, slow and deep. I try to lift and slam, but he stops me.

“Not too rough,” he growls.

Fuck it… don’t tell me he’s going to be like this for nine months.

“Ben,” I groan. “I need it harder.”

“Naughty girl,” he scolds darkly yet sweetly, and he lifts me. “My naughty girl likes to be fucked hard.” He steps into the shower and holds me up against the wall with my legs around his waist.

Then he’s riding me, deep and slow, and I’m going out of my mind here. I thrash beneath him and he smiles darkly as he watches on.

Completely in control.

I’m like a caged animal underneath him.

I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it. I convulse around him as I reach my climax, and he pumps me harder to get me through it. I whimper into his mouth.

His eyes flicker and he pulls out to sit down on the floor.

I pant as I stand above him.

He pats his lap and I squat over him before he slides back in, deep.

“I can’t be trusted not to hurt you,” he whispers.

His lips take mine.

“Fuck me,” he growls. “Fuck me now.”

Oh, God.

Back and forth, back and forth, deeper and deeper.

It goes and on and, oh God, it’s so good.

His eyes close and he temporarily loses it as he slams me onto him, then he cries out as he comes in a rush, deep inside of me.

He kisses me, smiling through it, and subtly shakes his head. “Rick was right,” he whispers.

“Huh?” I pant.

“Pregnant sex is next level.”

I giggle and drop my head to his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

He nips my neck. “And you’re a fucking milf.”

Ben and I sit in the doctor’s surgery, waiting to go in. We’re finding out the due date and I can’t help but think how different this appointment would have been if I were coming alone.

“Bridget Statham?” she calls.

We walk in and the doctor smiles warmly. “Hello.”

“Hello.” He and Ben shake hands.

He sits and gestures to our chairs. We sit down. He opens the file and reads the report, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He smiles. “Definitely pregnant.”

Ben smiles at the floor.

“Let do this ultrasound. Hop up onto the table.”

I climb up onto the table and he pulls my top up as Ben watches on in silence. The doctor goes over my stomach with the ultrasound machine.

“Just as I thought.” He smiles.

Ben and I watch on, with no idea what we’re seeing.

“Are there twins in the family?” he asks.

My eyes widen. “Y-yes,” I whisper.

“There will be another set soon. Congratulations.”

My eyes find Ben’s across the room.

“There are two?” Ben gasps.

“Yes. I guessed from your hormone levels that something was going on.”

I lie on the bed, in shock.

“You can hop off now,” the doctor says before he sits down and takes a little wheel thing out and turns it. “Your babies will be with us in June.”

I glance at Ben, completely mortified, but he smiles back at me.

“Twins are harder, but not impossible, Bridget. It will all be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Tw… t-two babies,” I croak from the bed.

“Just carry on as normal. Treat it as a normal pregnancy.”

‘Two?” I hold two of my fingers up.

“Yes.” He and Ben chuckle.

“Any questions?” the doctor asks.

Ben frowns, and I know he wants to ask about sex, but won’t.

“Can we have sex?” I ask.

Ben rolls his lips to stop himself from laughing.

“Yes, of course.”

Screw you and your twin-producing semen, Statham. I’m going to embarrass you now. “Rough sex?” I ask.

Ben’s eyes widen in absolute mortification.

The doctor frowns. “Well…” He coughs to clear his throat. “Well, not crazy rough, no, but normal rough should be okay.”

I nod, and Ben shakes his head in embarrassment.

“Your appointment with the obstetrician will be brought forward by a few weeks now, so when you make the appointment, make sure you tell them it’s twins.”