Bonus Scene Hunter
I crack my eyes open, twisting under the covers until satisfying little pops release at the base of my spine.
The room is bright. So bright.
Oof.
After a look at the clock, the light makes sense. I can’t believe I slept as late as I did.
A yawn catches me by surprise.
When doctors talk about early pregnancy fatigue, they’re not exaggerating.
Thankfully, today is the last day of my first trimester.
It’s a milestone I’m so grateful to have hit. Especially with the way my morning sickness has eased over the last few weeks.
I turn my head from side to side, disappointed but not at all surprised to be alone in bed.
Indulgently, I snuggle deeper in the plush, buttery sheets. I have to ask Decker where he gets his linens. Or Mrs. Lansbury. I’m sure she’ll know.
The soft creak of a door snags my attention.
Peeking over the tops of the covers, I give Spence an appreciative once-over as he strides into the room.
His steps falter when we lock eyes, his brows pulling slightly in the middle when he sees me still in bed.
“Are you well, love?”
The question sends a delicious shiver down my spine.
Now’s not the time, though.
At least I don’t think it is.
But if Spence is in the bedroom instead of in his office, and he’s wearing just a button-down and work trousers instead of his usual full suit, even when he’s working from home, then maybe there’s a chance I can persuade him to take a long lunch. With me. In which I’m the lunch.
Another pregnancy symptom I wasn’t prepared for?
My increased sex drive.
I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my life. Insatiable now that I’m not so nauseous and so feral the guys have started to joke about taking shifts.
Not that anyone’s complaining.
“I’m well,” I finally answer, a hint of mirth in my tone that’s pure sex and invitation.
He approaches slowly, eyes assessing, as if he’s searching for a lie.
“Yet you’re still in bed. At”—he checks the timepiece on his wrist—“one-thirty in the afternoon.”
With a new sense of urgency, he closes the distance and perches on the edge of the mattress. His ring-clad hand trails up to brush back my hair before resting gently on my forehead. His scowl remains, though he mutters, “No sign of fever. You’re sure you’re feeling okay?”
It’s a loaded question.
I take my time, inhaling and exhaling as I center myself to the best of my abilities.
I’m horny, but that’s a given. I close my eyes and do a little mental check-in.
Despite my body not looking that pregnant yet, there are so many subtle yet significant changes. I don’t feel like myself. I don’t feel bad. I just feel… different.
I turn onto my side, craning my neck so I can lean into his touch.
“Honestly? I don’t remember what ‘okay’ is supposed to feel like, so that’s hard to answer. I’m growing a human inside me,” I remind him. Another yawn catches me by surprise. “I’ve also just finished finals and survived spring semester.”
“Literally, if I may be so bold.”
I giggle. He’s always had a morbid side. Honestly, I love that about him.
“You may.” I readjust the pillow under my head, capturing Spence’s wrist so he can’t pull away. It’s rare we have time alone, just him and me. I wonder how hard it would be to convince him to stay hidden away with me all day.
“Between taking extra credit hours and all the drama with Magnolia—not to mention your arrival, and then Si showing up a few weeks later—life has been intense for all of us.”
Instinctively, my hand drifts to my lower abdomen.
“It’s going to get even more intense in a few months.”
I let my hand rest there, warmth bubbling up inside as I cup my growing baby bump.
Joey swears she can’t even tell I’m pregnant when she looks at me.
But my uterus is hard and firm when I press down. My insides feel heavy in a way I’ve never experienced. My boobs have nearly doubled in size. And I have to be careful when I’m practicing yoga with Sione because all my muscles and ligaments are so loose I keep coming close to overdoing it.
I’m so happy to be pregnant.
I’m so eager to meet our baby.
But a quiet part of me worries that everything happened too fast.
Especially for one man in particular.
As if he can read my thoughts, Spence shifts closer. Gripping the edge of the sheets, he asks, “May I?”
There’s nothing salacious about his question. But a shudder racks through me all the same.
Lips pressed together, I nod.
I don’t know what exactly he has in mind, but I don’t have any plans today. I’m happy to indulge in any game he’d like to play.
Head bowed low, he peels down my sleep shorts along with the bedsheet, revealing the bump that feels so much bigger and more prominent than it looks.
He hovers over me, dipping low enough that his mouth caresses my navel. He trails unhurried kisses down my stomach. Then he peers up at me through thick lashes, his blue-gray eyes a storm of emotion.
“You’ll be fourteen weeks tomorrow, Firecracker. Our baby is the size of a peach.”
He knows the size comparison for the upcoming week?
Fucking swoon.
That little reassurance is all I need. I have nothing to worry about. Spence wants this. We all want this. I get teary-eyed every time he refers to the life inside me as our baby.
I’ll never be over how gracefully and eagerly he has pivoted with my pregnancy.
In fact, all of my guys have gone a bit baby crazy over the last several weeks.
There’s a new level of intimacy between us because despite our different backgrounds and the hardships we’ve faced, we’re together now.
We’ll be connected forever because of this baby.
There’s safety and security and so much love at the core of this family we’re creating.
Spence clears his throat, snapping my attention back to his waiting gaze.
“That said, there’s something everyone seems to be forgetting.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, anticipation coiling inside me as I hang on his every word.
“Despite the life growing inside you and the way the others insist on treating you like you’re a porcelain doll that should be stored on the highest shelf, you and I both know the truth.”
“And what truth is that?” I ask, the intended sass in my tone wavering because of the needy, desperate warmth gathering in my core.
He’s right.
The others have been treating me differently.
They’ve been so loving, caring, and attentive. Greedy has been especially over-the-top with worry about the injuries I sustained because of my mother. He’s got Levi and Sione on his side, too. They all dote on me with reserved care, treating me as if I might break.
I appreciate being cherished to an extent.
But sometimes a girl just wants to be held down and thoroughly ravaged.
Which is exactly what Spence can give me, and it’s where I hope this is going.
“You were saying?” I press, the question aloof and uninterested. I’m not above activating Brat Mode if it ensures this goes my way.
He smirks, clearly eager to take the bait. “Despite growing a child and being the center of our universe, you’re still my filthy little cum receptacle. Desperate to be filled up with a hot load. Overly eager to feel my seed dribble out of your sex and paint your ass and thighs.”
Fuck.
Yes.
“Spence,” I plead, warmth clawing at my insides as a throbbing emptiness monopolizes my every thought.
“Say it,” he demands.
Without missing a beat, I reply, “I’m your dirty little cum receptacle.”
I squeeze my thighs together to quell the desire gathering in my belly.
“And right now, I’m so, so empty.”
Spence yanks my legs apart and cups my sex, his hold so firm it causes the fabric of my little sleep shorts to press up into my pussy.
I’m already so wet I’ll leave a stain. The friction of the damp fabric between my folds sends little zips of pleasure through my core.
I try to peer down to where he’s holding me. Try to inch closer or squirm lower in search of pressure.
He scoffs, garnering my attention. He’s fully aware that I’m desperate for him to move, to speak, to set the scene and allow me to revel in this specific indulgence only he can provide.
I want him to use me. I’m desperate to be treated like his needy, pathetic hole.
He squeezes my pussy, the sensation so intense I jolt. Arching my back, I clamor for everything he has to offer, desperate for more.
But he doesn’t give me more.
He just holds me, applying consistent pressure and constant scowling eye contact while making no moves to kiss me or give me anything else I crave.
The tension is too much.
A little whimper escapes me.
When I can’t stand it any longer, I take matters into my own hands by arching higher and sitting up. I scramble to whip my shirt off overhead and toss it to the floor.
“Not so fast,” he scolds, removing his hand from my body before I even have a chance to lie back down. “Did I tell you to take off your shirt, Firecracker?”
Warmth blooms in my chest in response to the scolding. “No, Sir.”
Spence tsks.
Wetness leaks out between my thighs.
His focus drops to my full, heavy tits. A flicker of desire registers on his face, but he quickly schools his expression, gaze hardening.
“So undisciplined,” he murmurs. “Now I have no choice but to ignore your aching nipples completely.”
Wait… what?
Acute panic lances through me. The emotion is so visceral it burns. Tears spring to my eyes, and I shake my head, desperate to take back the last few seconds.
“Spence. Wait, no…”
I blink away tears—actual tears. Despite the logical part of my brain knowing this is a scene, my emotions have been haywire because of the pregnancy.
Thankfully, Spence is always two steps ahead. He knows what I need before I do.
Leaning so close his lips brush mine, he murmurs, “You’re allowed to touch your nipples, love. And you can use your safe word if this type of punishment isn’t what you need from me.” He uses the tip of his nose to nudge mine. “You’re in control here, Firecracker. You’re always in control.”
I close my eyes and release a shuddering breath, grateful for the reminder.