His hands slide around to unclasp my bra, his movements practiced now after months of undressing me. When my breasts spill free, heavier and fuller than they've ever been, he groans.
"Christ, look at you." His thumbs brush over my nipples, which have gotten darker during this pregnancy. "Fucking gorgeous."
"I'm the size of a whale," I protest, but without much conviction. It's hard to feel unattractive when Kasen looks at me like this—like I'm some kind of fertility goddess instead of an exhausted pregnant woman with a popped out belly button and cellulite on my ass.
"You're perfect," he corrects, kneeling to help me out of my underwear. "You're growing our son. Do you have any idea how fucking hot that is?"
I laugh, the sound breathy as his hands slide up my thighs. "I might have some idea, based on how often you want to fuck me."
"Can you blame me?" His mouth trails across my collarbone, down to the swell of my breast. "My beautiful wife. Carrying my baby. Your tits getting bigger every day."
I gasp as his mouth closes around one sensitive nipple. "Kasen?—"
"I know, Pink. Gentle." His tongue swirls, the pressure light. "Tell me if it's too much."
But it's not too much. It's perfect—the scrape of his scruff against my oversensitive skin, the warmth of his mouth, the way his fingers dig into my thighs. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.
When he pulls back, I whimper at the loss. "Where are you going?"
"Nowhere." He stands just long enough to strip off his own clothes, revealing the body I've come to know as well as my own. The tattoos that flow across his skin, telling stories I've learned to read in the dark with my fingertips. The muscles that flex under my hands as he moves back to the bed.
"How do you want this?" he asks, always conscious of my comfort these days. "Side? You on top?"
"Side," I decide, already turning away from him. "You behind me."
He settles against my back, one arm sliding beneath me, the other draped over my hip. His erection presses against my lower back, hot and hard. When his fingers slide between my thighs, finding me already wet for him, the growl that resonates from his chest vibrates through my entire body.
"Always so ready for me," he murmurs against my neck. "Is this what growing my baby does to you? Makes you wet all the time?"
"Don't get cocky," I manage, but my body betrays me as I push back against him. "It's just hormones."
"Bullshit." His teeth graze my earlobe. "You've wanted me since Vegas. Maybe even before."
I can't deny it, not when he's working his fingers between my legs like a pro, circling my clit in the way he's learned drives me crazy. "Maybe," I concede.
"Definitely." He shifts, aligning himself at my entrance before pushing in with agonizing slowness. "God, you feel so good around me. So wet every fucking time."
I gasp as he fills me, the angle allowing him deeper. "Kasen, please."
"Please what?" His voice is strained, fighting for control. "Tell me what you need."
"You know what I need."
"Say it." He thrusts into me, but it’s too slow and not hard enough. "I want to hear you say it."
"I need you to fuck me," I breathe. "Hard."
His rhythm falters for just a moment. "You sure? The baby?—"
"Is fine," I assure him, reaching back to grip his hip. "Reed said we can still have sex. I want it."
That's all the permission he needs. His next thrust is harder, deeper, his arm tightening around me as he establishes a rhythm that has me gasping his name. His free hand slides up to cup my breast, thumb and forefinger rolling the nipple just tight enough to send sparks of pleasure-pain straight to my core.
"So fucking perfect," he groans against my shoulder. "I can’t wait to suck on these when your milk comes in."
I moan at his words, my body clenching around him. He knows exactly what that kind of talk does to me, how it ignites something primal and desperate in my veins.
"You like that?" His voice is rough against my ear. "Like knowing you're mine? That I put our baby in you? That I’ll put another one in you as soon as this one’s done?"
