Page 34 of When She Needs Them Most
Her soft, wet tongue teases between my lips, and all rational thought disappears.
My hand slides down from her lower back to squeeze her ass. Her dress is soaked with sweat, and her scent is so potent, it’s trying to convince my system that she’s an omega in heat.
She pulls back, running her fingers through my stubble. “Is this okay?”
I nod dramatically, and our noses brush. “Yeah, but I don’t know what this is. I mean, not exactly, but I’m willing to see where things go.”
“God, you’re so sexy, it’s making my brain melty. My instincts are screaming at me to present.” She doesn’t.
What she does is capture my mouth again in a slow, teasing kiss that makes my dick ache. My hands palm her ass, pulling her down over my throbbing length. The material makes it a pain in the ass.
I knew I should have lost the jeans.
The way Chelsea’s nails dig into the side of my neck as she kisses me senseless only seems to amp up every sensation. I’m here for her taking the lead. All she has to do is tell me what she needs, and I’ll do my best.
She pulls back, groaning as she clutches at her middle.
“Tell me what to do?” I plead, trying to remember where my phone is.
Maybe I should call an ambulance?
She’s not in labor or something, right?
Chelsea wiggles her hips and grabs the hem of her dress. She tugs at it, but it’s stuck under her ass, so I help her get it up. She continues to pull it off over her head as my hands slide up her sides.
My thumbs brush her stomach.
Her skin is soft, but her belly is hard. It’s a wild combination.
My hand is large enough that, thumb to pinkie, I can practically wrap it around her protruding belly, and I tease over the baby with no shame. I’m fascinated by the fact that she’s growing a human being. My only regret is not being able to see every stage along the way.
Chelsea uses my distraction to get herself out of her bra. Her heavy tits bounce, and I sit up, wrapping my forearm around her lower back.
Her sugar cookies and vanilla scent is about to do my fucking head in. A low growl rattles out as I capture her puffy lips.
This is bad.
Mount. Rut. Breed. Claim.
It’s the danger zone they warn alphas about. And my brain is fully stuck in the loop. The audiobook I listened to this afternoon did say sex was fine, even into the third trimester, and as long as she has no complications, it might be fine right up until she gives birth.
I nip at her lip, focusing just enough that I don’t let myself break the skin. Chelsea pushes up on her knees, pulls her panties down, and kicks them off. It shoves her tits against my chest, and between that and the frantic kiss, I don’t know what to focus on.
Her warm hands brush my lower stomach as she works my button and zipper.
I abandon holding the back of her head and her hip to push down my jeans and boxer briefs. My cock bounces around her ass, and with a little shimmying of her hips, she redirects it between us.
There’s no telling when I closed my eyes, but they pop open and everything except Chelsea’s beautiful face is hazy.
I’ve never experienced anything like it, but I have tunnel vision on her.
Her lips.
Her scent.
The warmth of her skin brushing my chest as she wiggles.
How her slick core feels gliding over the underside of my cock.
