Amiyah #2
Her hands gripped my thighs, fingers digging in, pulling me down harder, forcing me to ride her face like she was starving for it. Her tongue pushed in deep, licking long and slow before swirling tight circles around my clit that had me gasping like I was drowning in pleasure.
“Mmmmmmm, Baby,” I moaned out. “Eat this fucking pussy.”
But the part that made me shatter was James.
He stood behind me, shirt off, chest warm against my back, breath thick with desire.
His big hands slid under my belly, lifting the weight of it with so much care she almost sobbed.
Relief shot through my spine, causing my back to arch as he held me up, taking every ounce of strain off my lower back.
“That’s it, baby,” James murmured, voice low and full of heat. “Ride her face and let her taste all of it.”
His hands supported my belly, his thumbs brushing against my skin as if I might break, even as his words made my pulse throb harder.
Calla moaned beneath me, sucking my clit into her mouth with greedy, messy slurps that echoed in the room. Her tongue flicked fast, then slow, then fast again, teasing me so perfectly that my hips bucked forward, grinding wet and steady onto Calla’s mouth.
“Fuck, Calla,” I gasped, gripping the headboard. “Baby, just like that, don’t stop, please don’t stop—”
But James wasn’t done.
His free hand slid between my thighs, stroking through my slick folds, gathering every drop of wetness, circling my clit while Calla continued to suck from beneath. He rubbed tight circles, slow at first, then firmer, then with just enough pressure to make my vision blur.
“You feel that?” he whispered in her ear. “Your pussy is dripping all over her face. She loves it, I love it, give us more.”
I cried out, my whole body shaking as Calla devoured me, tongue thrusting deep before flattening out and dragging up my gushing slit. Calla moaned like she was being fed, licking me like my pleasure was a meal she refused to miss a drop of.
James kissed the back of my neck, then my shoulder, heat spilling through every part his mouth touched. “Come on, baby. Let go. Let us have it.”
My thighs trembled violently, breath breaking into desperate little whimpers as I rode Calla’s mouth harder, wetter, louder, my juices coating Calla’s chin and cheek.
“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.