Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“No.”
“Will we hurt you?”
“No.” Reaching low, I rose up on my knees and positioned his cock between my thighs. As I sank down on him, we both moaned.
“Oh fuck.” Joe gripped my hips. “Go slow. You have to go slow. I beg you to go slow.”
Laughing breathlessly, I did what he asked, the unhurried pace its own delicious torture. I swiveled and circled my hips over his, leaning forward to get the angle just right, gasping at the way he filled me, and the sharp twinge that blurred the line between pleasure and pain. “You’re so deep,” I whispered. “It feels so good.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind was the fear that this was it, this was the last time with him. I had no idea when we’d see each other again or what the situation would be or even how big I’d have grown. I wanted to savor every single second.
But even a slow climb will take you to the top, and we found ourselves there together, reluctant to jump but craving the rush of the fall. Joe’s breathing was quick and hard, his skin hot and sweaty. He kept closing his eyes, his expression pained, like the sight of me was too much to bear. I’d never felt so beautiful, or so alive.
“Cupcake.” It was a warning.
“I know,” I breathed, my hands braced on his chest, riding him harder and faster. “I know.”
My hair swung around my shoulders. A sweat broke out on my skin.
“I can’t—I’m gonna—fuck!”
I felt it then, the rhythmic beat of his climax, and I went with him, moving through it, my muscles contracting, my body determined to take every last drop. When I finally slowed to a stop, I could feel the quick hard thump of his heart under my palms.
His eyes opened. He swallowed. “My God.”
I laughed, still a little breathless. “Did I wear you out with my second trimester energy?”
“In the best possible way.” He glanced at my belly. “Are you okay?”
“I feel great. Just give me a minute.” Carefully sliding off him, I went into the bathroom.
After cleaning up, I washed my hands and splashed some cool water on my face. In the mirror, I turned my face this way and that, taking in my disheveled hair and flushed cheeks and swollen lips. I was a mess. But I was happy.
Hurrying back to my bedroom, I switched off the lamp before crawling into bed. Immediately, Joe pulled me close and curled his body around mine like a question mark. He rested his hand on my stomach. “Is he awake?”
“I don’t know.” I giggled. “Maybe we rocked him to sleep.” I lay very still, and a few minutes went by before the baby jabbed me. “There. Did you catch it?”
“Yes.” Then he slid down and rolled me onto my back, putting his lips on my belly. “Good night, Nicky. Be good in there. Let your mommy get some sleep.”
In response, the baby punched me again.
“Our son is a smart-ass,” Joe said. “I’m afraid he’s gonna take after me like that.”
“I’ll keep him in line, don’t worry.”
Joe moved back up and resumed his position, tucking his knees under mine, his chest warm against my back. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
“You’ll always be welcome here.”
Of course, my anxiety chose that moment to raise her hand and remind me that this cozy little arrangement was not in my best interest long-term. Remember what you said to Ellie? How you didn’t want to end up pining for him, living for the days he passes through town? Hoping he hasn’t met someone in the meantime? Stop pretending this is all fine and you’re okay. You’re not okay. You’re in love with him.
It was true. I was so in love with him, I didn’t care how much tomorrow would hurt.
Tonight, it was Christmas.
And this felt like a gift.
When I opened my eyes the next morning, Joe wasn’t beside me. I sat up and blinked, reaching for my glasses. Had he left without telling me?
“Joe?” I called out.
“I’m here.” He entered the room, appearing freshly showered and wearing just a pair of sweatpants, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs on it, along with a plate. “I made you some tea and myself some coffee. And my stomach was growling, so I made some toast for us to share. Hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is.”
He set the tray on the foot of the bed and handed me the mug of tea. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“Thank you.” I reached for a piece of toast and took a bite, trying not to think how lovely this would be every morning.
“I didn’t want to wake you, so I just grabbed a quick shower.”
“Did you find a clean towel?”
“Yes. I remembered where they were from the last time I stayed overnight.”
“Good.” I took a sip of hot tea. “What time do you have to leave for the airport?”