Chapter 14 Mia
FOURTEEN
MIA
I wake exactly how I went to sleep—with Jensen molded along my spine, like he’s wrapped his protection around me in the night. His fingers rest against my folds, so close to where I need him, and his cock is still buried inside me. An unapologetic steel rod.
This has been our routine for the last four weeks.
Since our argument.
It’s like he can’t bear sleeping without knowing I’m attached to him. I’m not complaining. It makes me feel held and loved to wake with his heavy thickness stretching me.
It also helps me to know when he’s awake. Because as soon as he is, his fingers stroke slowly through my wetness.
A needy moan slips out before I can stop it. I arch my back, pushing deeper onto his shaft, and we both groan.
I can feel him pressing against my walls. “Keep making those greedy sounds, baby, and I’ll tie you to the bed and fuck you so hard you’ll forget your name.”
I should roll my eyes at how unhinged he is, but my body softens for him instantly.
Greedy, traitorous bitch.
I can’t help it. I love it when he’s like this. The way he wants me so desperately, even when I’m wrecked most of the time. Morning sickness has been rough, so has the exhaustion.
Some days, it feels like the power cord has been pulled out of my body. I fell asleep twice this week at my desk. Just nodded off mid task. Juno’s going to hand in her notice at this rate. And I wouldn’t even blame her. I’m dead weight right now. She’s managing everything at the gallery.
My thoughts scatter as Jensen rolls his hips. I grip his wrist, not sure if I’m trying to control his fingers between my legs or using it to anchor my body before I levitate off the bed.
His strokes are slow, then he picks up the pace. Every thrust winds me tighter and I’m a puddle of need as I press back into him with the desperation of a wild animal.
“That’s it, baby,” his voice scrapes out of his tight throat, “take every fucking inch of me.”
I feel the graze of his teeth against my shoulder and the bite of pain alongside the folding pleasure squeezes my walls around him, like I can milk every drop out of his cock.
He fucks me like we have all the time in the world, like his only task is to worship me.
One hand is between my legs, the other splayed over my stomach.
There is the smallest hint of a curve, barely noticeable unless I’m naked, but Jensen treats it like I’m already glowing in the third trimester, and not still in the first.
“Harder,” I gasp, pushing back against him. He’s so deep it feels like he’s thrusting into my chest and my body chases the pleasure he’s dangling in front of me. “Please.”
“You want harder?” He chuckles. “My greedy little fertile goddess wants me to fill her with my seed again and again. You want to feel me dripping out of you, Mia? You want me to plug it up there so you can sit at your desk all day filled with me?”
I stop breathing.
The filth coming out of his mouth is feral. But maybe I’m just as deranged because I love it. I need it.
My thighs clench, desperate to keep him where I need him. “I want all of it,” I whimper, becoming exactly what he said I am—greedy.
“Of course you do. You’ve always been hungry for what only I can give you.
” He picks up the pace, his strokes punishing, like he wants me to feel him imprinted into my bones.
Every drag of him sends sparks along my spine until I can’t think and I become nothing more than a vessel for him to take as he pleases.
“Jensen.” His name spills out of my mouth, garbled and frantic. I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
His breath is hot on my neck as he slams into me over and over. “You think one baby is going to be enough?” He pants like he’s run a marathon. “I’m going to keep you pregnant and glowing. Keep you mine. My perfect little baby-maker.”
There’s a blinding, brutal snap as my walls clamp around him, heat and fire pouring through me simultaneously. The sound I make as I come isn’t human. It’s primal and desperate relief.
My vision rolls. I’m floating outside of my body. Too hot even though goosebumps erupt on my arms and my hair is damp, stuck to my forehead with sweat. My frantic pulse is like a runaway train rushing along the tracks.
Jensen thrusts one last time and lets out a strangled groan into my neck as he spills inside me. There’s a warm pulse as he fills me, just as he promised. And then all I can hear is our combined ragged breaths as we try to calm our racing hearts.
Everything feels sensitive. Raw. Overstimulated.
Jensen cups my stomach like he’s checking on our baby while he’s still buried inside me. Between his kisses, he murmurs, “You undo me, Mia.”
I twist so that his mouth can find mine, and he slides his tongue past my lips. The way he kisses me feels like a confession, like he’s pouring every sin we just committed into this touch.
“Your pretty cunt is the only place I belong,” he continues. “Fuck, baby. Thank you for giving me this.”
He’s gentle in a way he wasn’t moments ago, and it ruins me. It always surprises me how he can jump between intense and soft so quickly.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
“I love you more.”
He nips my lip—a warning. “Impossible.”
An hour later, I’m sitting at the kitchen table, my stomach churning. Jensen splits his gaze between making toast and watching my every move.
“You okay?” he asks carefully.
He’s trying, really trying, to give me space, but that need to control things still weighs heavily on him. It goes against his nature to step out of that role, so when he frames it in a way that gives me control, it makes my chest swell.
“I’m a little nauseous, but I’m okay.”
The muscle in his cheek flexes, like he’s half a beat from calling Dr. Patel, but he nods tightly and focuses on buttering the toast. “If you get worse or you can’t manage it—”
“I’ll let you know.” He slides the plate in front of me and I smile. He’s cut the toast into triangles, and added a little pile of fruit on the side. It’s cute.
He sits next to me and then, without warning, he pulls me onto his lap.
I gasp as his arms band around me, holding me in place. “What are you doing?”
“I want you close while you eat.”
I blink as he slowly lifts a triangle toward my mouth, giving me a chance to say refuse.
I don’t.
I take a tiny bite, and he exhales into my hair. We’ve learned the hard way to test first whether my stomach is going to accept food or send it as an offering to the toilet gods.
When I don’t retch, I take another bite. His body loosens behind me, his relief clear.
“You don’t have to watch every bite I take,” I tease him, but only lightly.
Jensen struggled more than I did in the first trimester, though since I hit twelve weeks things have calmed down a lot.
He spears a grape and piece of strawberry before he offers the fork to me.
“I enjoy watching you eat. You’re making our baby grow strong with every mouthful you take.
” He spreads his palm over my belly, his fingers pressing against me.
I love the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel like I’m his.
There’s a pause before he adds, “I’m sorry if it’s too much. I’m… I’m trying.”
I sit a little straighter in his lap. “I don’t want you to stop loving me or taking care of me, Jensen.
I love when you’re like this. It only becomes a problem when you stop me from living.
” I swallow the fruit and kiss his stubbled jaw.
“You’re doing better,” I say, and his throat bobs, like he doesn’t know what to do with the praise.
“And I don’t feel caged with this. I feel cherished. ”
His thumb caresses over my stomach. “You are cherished. You’re the single most important thing in the world.”
I melt into his lap like he’s the only thing keeping me upright and my mind wanders to the day ahead. To the appointment we need to leave for in the next thirty minutes.
“I’m nervous,” I admit in barely a whisper.
His thumb strokes over my nape. “Me too.”
My brow lifts as I twist to look at him. Jensen isn’t afraid of anything—other than me leaving him. “You are?”
A flicker of amusement crosses his face. “You didn’t think I would be?” His hand rests on my thigh before he spreads it over my stomach. “We’ll see our baby today. Of course I’m nervous.”
I cover his hand, my chest full as I try to imagine how it’ll feel to see our child for the first time. “She’s only the size of a lime right now.”
His fingers twitch against me as he freezes. “She?”
I shift my shoulders. I don’t know if our baby is a girl, but it feels like she is. Maybe it’s a sixth sense or mom intuition. “It’s just a feeling.”
He groans dramatically. “Beautiful, there’s no force in this world cruel enough to give me a daughter.”
I pull back slightly, his words settling like ugly barbs. What does he mean by that? Is he set on having a boy? “You don’t want a girl?”
His expression is pained. “Mia, if we have a daughter, I’ll end up in jail. You think I’m going to watch some pencil dick asshole with my daughter? You think I’ll be able to sit by while she dates losers? You think I’m staying sane in that situation?”
Oh. Now I get it. He’s in full protective dad mode. I snort. “You can’t beat up any man who talks to her, Jensen.”
“You don’t think so? I have enough money to move mountains literally. You think one little boy is going to be a problem?” His eyes darken.
I laugh, mostly because I’m not sure if he’s joking. “I think we have to let our kid make their own way. But you’d make an amazing father to any daughter we ever have.”
“Princess, don’t test me right now.” He sounds tortured when he says it.
I let him off the hook. “We won’t know what we’re having today. They can’t tell that until the anatomy scan.”
He tilts my chin with two fingers, studying my mouth like it’s scripture. “Girl, boy—all I want is healthy and happy.”
“That’s all I want too,” I agree.