“Calla… James… I can’t, I can’t—” I cried out.
“Yes, you can,” Calla growled in my pussy, voice muffled by the slickness drowning her face.
And that was all it took.
My orgasm ripped through me like a storm. A scream tore out of my chest as my pussy clenched and spilled, flooding Calla’s tongue with wave after wave of my release. My entire body convulsed, thighs shaking, hips jerking uncontrollably.
James held me up, keeping my belly lifted as I rode my release until the very end so I wouldn’t collapse, whispering praise against my ear as I shattered.
“That’s it, baby. Give it to us. You are perfect. So fucking perfect and all ours.”
Calla moaned and swallowed every pulse of my orgasm like she was drinking me straight from the source, her tongue still moving even as I trembled violently above her.
When it was over, James helped me to lie on my side next to Calla’s body, shaking, breathless, completely undone. Resting my head on Calla’s chest, Calla’s arms wrapping around me instantly.
James leaned down, kissing my shoulder, stroking my back as he whispered, “We got you.”
It was filthy, messy, overwhelming, and tender all at once.
So as I stood in front of the mirror, my belly was round beneath my tank top, my skin glowing from the whipped body butter I slathered on religiously. I touched my reflection gently.
“You are still you,” I whispered. “You are still wanted.”
Packing done, I crawled into bed between them, my head on James' chest, Calla’s hand resting over my belly. We slept like that every night, a knot of limbs and warmth, the baby kicking occasionally, as if they wanted to join the conversation.
I thought about the flight ahead, the beach, the private dinners, the quiet nights that turned into slow kisses and soft laughter. I thought about how they looked at me now, like pregnancy only amplified their desire for me.
Maybe it did.
Maybe love made everything brighter.
Sometimes I felt shy about how needy pregnancy made me, how often I craved their hands and mouths on me, how easily I whined for touch, but they held me through all of it. They kept me near, kept me soft, kept me grounded in a body that was building life and pleasure all at once.
And as I drifted to sleep between them, excitement humming low in my belly, I felt our baby shift beneath Calla’s hand.
“See, the baby knows,” Calla whispered sleepily, smiling into my shoulder.
“Knows what?” I asked.
“That her mama is going to be spoiled all week,” she said, her voice thick and warm. “By both of us.”
James kissed my forehead. “Every single night,” he murmured. “And every morning too.”
I sighed, happy and dizzy, my heart full, my body warm. If this was what love felt like, then I never wanted to live without it again.
The silence of planes had always been soothing to me. Something about being above the clouds, detached from the world’s noise, gave me space to think and feel.
James sat across from me, quietly reading through a design proposal, but my focus was fixed on Amiyah.
She was curled up next to me in her first-class seat, the soft glow from the window painting her cocoa skin in bronze sheen. Even with her headphones in and her eyes closed, she looked ethereal. Pregnancy had given her a glow that no luxury brand could replicate.
Her body was changing, yes, but to me she looked like art. Her breasts fuller, her hips wider, her curves a perfect testament to everything womanly and divine. Every inch of her seemed to dance with new life, and I found myself mesmerized by the gentle rhythm of her breathing.
James glanced up from his tablet, caught me staring, and smirked. “You’ve been staring at her for twenty minutes.”
I smiled back. “And your point?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “None. Just making an observation.”
