Yes, please!
I lean back against the mirror as he takes a slow lick up my center, one that makes my toes curl. “Olly,” I gasp.
His hand snakes up my shirt and settles on my engorged boob.
“Careful, I might leak and—”
“Don’t care,” he mumbles against my damp skin.
“Oh, God. That feels good.” My hips gyrate against his face. “Wait. Do we need a condom?”
He pauses. “You have a two-percent chance of getting pregnant while breastfeeding because it works as a natural form of birth control. Condoms also pose a two-percent risk, which goes up to fifteen percent when you consider user error, which… I guess we figured out firsthand.” His tongue does something wicked to my clit. “Using a condom while breastfeeding is probably the safest route.”
“How do you know all this?” I pant as I wiggle and squirm.
“High school health,” he mumbles against me. “You’re in the driver’s seat, baby. Tell me what you want.”
I’m so glad I’m dating a Boy Scout. He really is always prepared. “No condom. Bouncing on latex sounds unappealing right now, and I haven’t gotten my period yet, so I think we’re good to go.”
“Or we can wait. I can finish you off. I might need to jack it, but there’s no pressure to do more than you’re ready for.”
“No, I cannot wait.” I jam my hand into his hair and lift his head. “And there will be no finishing off unless I come on your cock. You understand me?”
He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am. Now let’s get back to lubricating.”
Ten minutes later, I’ve forgotten all about the ‘not finishing separately’ thing when I come on his face and fingers with a shriek.
With a grin, he licks his lips. “I’d say you’re lubricated.”
So much so, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a puddle under me. But I don’t get a chance to check because I’m distracted when he finishes unbuttoning his jeans. He’s sporting those boxers his grandpa bought him.
“I’m getting the Heavenly Hunk under my mistletoe this year. I’m such a lucky girl.”
He winks. “You’re definitely getting my heavenly hunk.”
His thick length springs out of his boxer briefs. I wrap my hand around him and give him a long stroke. But as sexy as this is, and as much as I want to pounce on him, the prospect of reconnecting with him in the bathroom doesn’t sound appealing.
“Can we move to the bed? I don’t think I can sit on this counter any longer.”
A split second later, he lifts me into his arms and shuffles through the door. I wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him while he tiptoes over to the crib, where the boys are down for a catnap.
“Let’s do this,” he whispers. “Berry, berry quietly.”
I snort at his Elmer Fudd voice and nip his ear. “You’re forgetting the rules. No cartoon voices during sex.”
He kicks off his jeans and boxers and slowly lowers both of us to the bed. I glance at the crib again. There’s a blanket hanging off the side, so even if the boys were awake, they can’t see anything. Not that they would know what they’re looking at. Still. I don’t want to traumatize my children.
Olly grabs my chin. “They’re fine. Cavemen fucked with their kids three feet away.”
“Very reassuring.” I lick his corded neck and thread my fingers through his thick hair. “Take off your shirt. I want the full ‘hunky’ experience.”
He smirks and strips it off. “This what you want?”
Holy smoke show. Michael has the perfect body. Broad chest and shoulders. Ripped belly that tapers down to a narrow waist. Just the right amount of hair that leads me to that eager part of him I love exploring.
I trace his biceps with a finger and drag it across his chest so I can pinch his nipple, making him yelp. “You know I do, you tease. Get over here.”
He laughs and drops down on me. But before he gets to work, he yanks off my t-shirt. I try not to squirm. I know I still have a few extra pounds to go before I reach my pre-pregnancy weight. And now I have those stretch marks, and my boobs feel enormous, but all I see is desire in his eyes.
