I lift her off the counter and start walking to my bedroom, stumbling to stay upright as our lips are glued together, neither of us willing to separate.
We’re frantic as we undress each other. My jeans, socks, underwear? They’ve disappeared. My shirt? Tossed in the corner of the room. Her clothing? They meet the same demise. Could be kicked under the bed for all we know. It doesn’t matter.
For what we have planned, clothes aren’t necessary. And I hope she doesn’t have plans tomorrow, either. Possibly into the next day.
We fall to the bed in a tangle of limbs, laughing and moaning when my hardening dick brushes her thigh.
I abandon her lips so I can become reacquainted with the rest of her silky skin. The trip down her neck is especially fun. Though, not as fun as when I get to her favorite spot. I’ve never seen someone as sensitive as she is, but the second my lips wrap around her tip, she practically explodes. The sounds she makes are such a turn-on.
Her fingers find the back of my head, as if to keep me in place. As if I have any desire to leave.
“Nik!” she cries out and I smile against her skin. “That feels so good.”
Not wanting to leave her other breast out, I shift my focus and spend some quality time with her there, as well. Before she can come, I kiss down the rest of her upper body.
When I get to her stomach, I pause, looking up at her then down at where our baby is growing. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of it, obviously, I was. But being right here is… different.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. “You’re pregnant.”
She smiles shyly. “Welcome to the party, Nik.”
“Always a smart ass.” I shake my head. “It’s not that it hadn’t clicked yet, but…” I sit up on my knees and splay a hand over her stomach. “He’s growing in there. Right now. That’s wild.”
“Or her,” she reminds me.
“You said you were sure it was a boy.”
“How the heck should I know? I’m barely two months along and it’s not like I’ve done this before. I’ve convinced myself it’s a boy because raising a girl scares the crap out of me.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “But raising a boy doesn’t?”
“Ehh. Not really. They can be rambunctious and wild, but so can girls. I don’t know, I have sisters and it was an emotional mess growing up, especially when we were on our periods at the same time.”
“Going on record here to say that I wasn’t the one who called you emotional or a mess or that raising a girl would be scary. Also, for the record, boys can be emotional, too, so basically it’s going to be a fun ride.”
“Definitely.”
“Now. Where were we?”
“I think you were about to let me have a little fun.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mm hmm,” she says, grinning and next thing I know, I’m flat on my back, my head by the foot of the bed, and her lips and hand are wrapped around me.
“Holy shit!” I shout. I bite my bottom lip and pray that I don’t embarrass myself. It feels way too good for me to last very long and I don’t want it to end this way. She works me up to the point where if I don’t stop her, this will be done, and I give her the universal signal to stop by tapping her on the shoulder.
She shakes her head and I tap again. “Baby, as much as I’m enjoying it, I have more plans for tonight.”
With a pop, she releases me and climbs up my body. “Fun hater.”
“Ha! Right. Fun extender, is more like it.”
“You say potato, I say… ahh!” I cut her off by flipping her over so I’m on top again.
“You were saying?”
“Mmm,” she hums, her top teeth sliding across her bottom lip. “What kind of fun did you have in mind?”
I rub myself against her entrance. “A little bit of this,” I murmur and she hums again. Thoroughly enjoying herself. Her legs are spread wide, her dark hair fanned out against the comforter, olive skin on full display. She’s not the least bit shy with me, nor should she be. Her body is beautiful. I push myself inside of her and groan. I’d forgotten how amazing she feels.
“And a lot of this,” she adds for me, now wrapping her legs up and around my hips.
“Is this okay?” I ask her. I know sex is safe during all stages of pregnancy, but I still feel like I should ask her.
“More than okay. It’s…” she trails off, sighing.
She doesn’t need to say anything else, though. I feel it, too. There’s this song about being made for someone and that’s how I feel around Ashley. She’s everything I never felt around anyone else before her. “Yeah,” I agree, pumping in and out of her and relishing in being able to do so without any barriers between us. Not that it’s the first time, but this time, we really don’t have to worry.
Moving together, we climb higher and higher toward our climax.
I lick the pad of my thumb and rub against her clit. She curses and tightens around me. She looks between us, to where we’re joined and then into my eyes.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispers, looking back down. “That’s so sexy.”
“Fuck.”
It’s not long before I feel the telltale sign that I’m about to come.
“You there?”
“Almost,” she whispers, squeezing her left breast and the tip. That isn’t going to help me any. Unless she wants me to come right now. Seeing her touch herself? Holy hell.
“Want you to come with me,” I grunt.
“Let go,” she says just as her own orgasm hits her long and hard. She screams my name, her head thrashing side to side against the mattress and I follow right behind her, collapsing off to the side of her.
“I’ll move in a minute. Or an hour.”
“No rush. I don’t think I can move anyway.”
After a few moments, I kiss her shoulder and slowly pull out.
We make quick work of cleaning up before crawling into bed. She drapes her leg over my thighs and plays with the hair on my chest.
“I don’t want to screw this up,” she whispers.
I kiss the top of her head. “Me either. We won’t. We need to figure out what we both want and go from there.”
She nods against my chest and ducks her head. I can tell she’s worried and that’s understandable. I’m worried, too.
There’s more than just our hearts at stake this time around.
“We’ll figure it out,” I promise her.
This time she doesn’t nod, but she does look up at me. “You think we will?”
“We’ve been through the crappy stuff to know what doesn’t work.”
“That’s true.”
“See? We’re practically experts now.”
“I’ll start writing down our relationship advice so we can publish it,” she says sarcastically.
“Always the smart ass.”
She wraps her arm around me and curls in closer. It hits me that I’m in bed, naked with the woman who’s going to have my child in seven months. But it doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable or freaked out.
Maybe it should, but then again, this wouldn’t feel so right if it did.