Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
Hunter
Twenty-four weeks pregnant
I wake up to a wet heat enveloping my cock. A tongue runs up from root to tip before sucking the head into her mouth. My hips thrust up once, waking me the rest of the way up. The sight of Michelle straddling my legs with my dick in her mouth, her tits bouncing as she moves up and down my shaft, awaits me. My hand finds its way into her hair, not putting any pressure on her head, but wanting to feel her head move as she takes me as deep as she can.
Wanting to try something, I tug on the fistful of hair I’m entwined in and am rewarded with a groan vibrating the whole way to my balls. She brings me to her lips, almost letting me fall from her mouth, when she drags her teeth along a spot at the bottom of my cockhead. I reward her for the effort with another hip thrust. The resulting smile tells me that’s the response she was looking for. Suddenly, my orgasm is right around the corner.
“Mich, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come,” I say, releasing her hair, expecting her to pull off. Instead, she takes me to the back of her throat, swallowing around the tip. That’s it for me and I’m coming down her throat. My toes curl and it’s an effort to fight the instinct to plant my legs as my soul empties into her via my dick. She swallows every drop and licks me clean until I’m too sensitive.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe out between chest heaving inhales. My spit covered cock falls against my stomach as she sits up. “Where did that come from?”
“A perk of fighting my gag reflex so often,” she says, a smug expression on her face, settling on the mattress, her legs crossed in front of her.
“Who knew?” My breaths slow, energy starting to return. “How wet did sucking me off make you?” I ask, pushing myself into a sitting position.
“Why don’t you get over here and find out,” she sasses.
“Oh, I intend to do much more than that.” I climb out of bed, answering her puzzled look by gripping a shin in each hand and unfolding her legs. Once they’re untangled from each other, I give each foot a good yank, pulling her toward me and the edge of the bed. My fingers dip into her pussy, coming back glistening. “So wet. Someone likes sucking my cock, don’t they?”
She nods, proud of how much she enjoys giving me pleasure. Luckily, that’s an interest we share.
Reaching up alongside her body, I trace a path up her stomach to the valley between her breasts with my tongue. “I’m going to need to fuck these tits before Cumulus arrives,” I say against her skin. Her breath catches, telling me she’s on board with the idea.
“But for now ...” I trail off, gripping two pillows in my hand and dragging them toward the edge of the bed while I retrace my course down her body. I drop one pillow on the ground and kneel on it. “Lift up.” I direct, patting her half on the hip, half on the side of her ass cheek. She complies and I tuck the second pillow under the lower back. “I don’t want you getting stiff, because I intend to stay down here for a long while. ”
With that, I push her thighs apart, taking in her slick, pink center. She moans and takes her breasts in her hands. “I feel your eyes like a feather, whispering over where I want you. Touch me, please.”
“How can I resist a direct invitation?” I lean forward, licking from her center to her clit. I stay at that bundle of nerves, flicking it from side to side with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth. Her hips cant up, letting me know what’s burned in my memory is accurate. I continue focusing on her clit while coating two fingers in her wetness before pushing inside her. Another groan emits from her throat, so I pick up the pace with both my mouth and my hand, curling my fingers to hit the spongey spot along her inner wall. She tightens around my fingers and continue working my tongue along her clit through her orgasm.
I know she still has more waves to go when she tries to squeeze her legs closed. “I don’t think so,” I say. “I’m not done with you yet.” I lift each leg, so they’re hooked over my shoulders, forcing her legs to stay open. She moans but doesn’t protest. I lean back toward her core. Taking time to press kisses up and down the skin on her inner thigh, right to the edge of her lips, wanting to give her time to recover slightly. In what seems like no time at all, she’s shifting her hips, trying to force my tongue more central. Her being so hungry for my mouth takes my recovering cock from half-hard to stiff against my thigh. He’ll need to wait his turn.
I give her what I’m looking for, fucking her with my tongue for a few thrusts before moving to her clit. Using her wetness on my fingers again, I trail them down toward her crease, tapping lightly against her puckered hole. She stills for a moment before circling her hips, inviting my light exploration of her backdoor.
“Have you ever had anything here?” I say into her pussy, as I continue my gentle touching, not wanting to lose contact with my favorite taste for longer than I need to.
“No-o,” she shudders out, her hips thrusting. I stiffen my tongue, allowing her to use me to take what she needs against her clit.
“Someday, I’d love to take you here,” I say. “But we’ll work up to that.” She continues to ride my face and a new gush of liquid along with her noises lets me know she’s crested again. Her knees try to squeeze shut, and I’d gladly blackout with her thighs as my new favorite ear muffs any other day, but it might put a damper on the trip.
Michelle’s legs go limp, and I look up her body to see her looking down at me from her elbows, her face visible above the baby bump that’s more pronounced with her clothes off.
“Can you take another one?” I ask, continuing to lick as she shudders against me.
“No, please. Want you inside me.”
That’s a request I’ll always be happy to oblige. I press a kiss to the top of her mound before letting her legs down from my shoulders, leaving them dangling over the edge of the bed.
I climb up over her body, and she pulls my face down to hers, tasting herself on my mouth. Once our lips slow, I pull back slightly. “I want to hold you and fuck you nice and slow.”
She nods, words seeming beyond her two orgasms in. I pull the pillow from under her hip and slide her up the bed before turning her onto her side. My body slots in behind hers, and I lift her leg so it rests on top of my hip. I guide myself into her channel, groaning as I slide home. My hand grips under her belly and I start to thrust my hips in and out, nice and slow.
“This is how you deserve to be ma ...” I catch myself. This feels a lot like making love to me, but I know enough to not drop that bomb during sex. “Deserve to be fucked. Slow, like you’re precious. Because you are. You’re so precious to me.”
Her fingers intertwine with mine on her stomach, gripping tightly as she turns her head, searching for my mouth. I push up to meet her, tangling our tongues for a moment until she groans with a swivel of my hips and drops her cheek to the pillow. I stay propped up, trailing kisses from her ear, along her neck, and to her shoulder. All the while, my hips pump in and out of her, adding a circular thrust every few joinings.
After a while, Michelle starts to press her hips back into mine, trying to speed up the pace. I oblige and untangle our fingers, bringing my hand to her clit. Strumming along the bud for a few seconds in time with our thrusts has her tightening around me once more, her mouth open in a silent scream. I follow her over the edge, my not silent groan pressed into her skin.
We stay connected like that, long enough I think she’s fallen asleep. I know I should roll away and get a cloth to clean us up, but I’m reluctant to lose the contact.
Just as I’ve talked myself into moving, Michelle breaks the silence.
“Hunter?” she says, her voice quiet and tired, but content.
“Yeah,” I respond, pressing another kiss into her shoulder.
“You deserve to be fucked like that too.”
I’m stunned. My arm wraps tighter around her and I bury my face in her neck. Cleaning up can wait.
T urns out, the way the ocean lets you see stars forever also means there’s nothing to block the sunlight once it’s over the horizon. The light through our small port window brightens the room as I try to catch the time on my phone without moving Michelle. Not even six a.m.
I look up at the curtain we didn’t bother to draw and down at the woman using my legs and my pillows to prop herself up. When we finally called it quits a few hours ago, she had a hard time getting comfortable. A crick in my neck from using my arm as a pillow is nothing compared to what her body is going through. Though, maybe I can snag an extra or two off a housekeeper today.
I don’t think I can move to cover the window without waking her up. If she needed a three-hour nap to recover from boarding a boat, she’ll definitely need more than a handful of hours to make it through a full day. The beam of light inches up our bodies, moving toward our heads. That settles it. I move one limb at a time very slowly. Michelle readjusts but doesn’t seem to wake. I roll off the bed as gently as I can, scooch around the bed and have moved the curtain into place when ...
“What time is it?”
Fuck. “It’s a little after six.”
She groans. “Why is it so bright out?”
“All that wide-open space. No trees, no buildings, no hills to block the light.”
“Gross. All this light is making me sick.”
I laugh. “You may have a hickey or two, but I don’t think I turned you?—”
“Wait.” She sits up. “No, I think I’m really going to be sick.”
“Fuck.” That one is out loud. I grab the trash can and hand it to her. “Do you want to try to make it to the bathroom?”
She nods, and I notice how pale she is. I got too caught up in worrying about the sunlight and how right she felt against me to pick up on it earlier. Each of us holding one side of the trash can, we get her standing and move the few feet into the bathroom. Never more thankful for tight quarters, we make it to the toilet in time for Michelle to let loose into the bowl.
“Yuck, it’s like it’s week eleven all over again.” She heaves into the toilet once more. Looking around, wanting to be helpful, I pull a washcloth off the shelf and wet it with cold water. I hand it to her, along with some tissue for around her mouth.
She leans against the wall. “Do you mind grabbing me a pillow? We can get a replacement from housekeeping later, but this is going to kill my back sitting on the floor.”
It sounds like we’re in it for the long haul. I rush into the bedroom and grab one of the pillows she had at her hips. The sound of Michelle retching again reaches my ears. I look at the bed and grab the whole damn comforter off. If she’s going to be on the floor in a cruise ship bathroom, it’s going to be the most comfortable floor I can give her.
I lean against the wall as she goes another few rounds. She leans back into the nest I made her and wipes her hand across her head. I rewet the washcloth and hand it to her.
“Thanks. Shit, have you used the bathroom this morning? I think all the liquid that can be expelled from my body has come out my mouth, but ...”
My bodily functions had been entirely forgotten, but now that she mentions it, I really do need to piss.
“Uh, maybe I can run up and use the one in the locker room.” I calculate how long it will take me to get there and back, and if I can risk leaving her for that long.
“Hunter. My man. Your dick has impregnated me and been inside me within the last six hours. I think you can piss with me in the same room. Promise I won’t look.” She turns her head to the side and holds her hand over her eyes.
It’s tricky to maneuver, but I get close enough to the toilet. It takes a second, but things start flowing. “You can’t cover both your eyes and your ears at the same time. You don’t have the hands.” I mutter, the tips of my ears growing warm.
The flush and rush of water from the sink lets her know it’s okay to remove her hand, and she looks at me. Her face betrays her exhaustion, but she tries to give me her best smile, anyway. “All new levels of intimacy reached this weekend.” She holds out her hand for a high five, but instead I grab it and hang on, sliding down the wall to sit next to her. She leans her shoulder against me, and we wait.
A couple hours later, the heaving has slowed way down, but now, I’m worried about rehydrating her. This much vomit is dangerous enough when it’s just you, but with the baby, it’s a lot worse.
“Do you think you can try some water?” I ask. I’d really love to get some food in her too, but one step at a time. She puts on a brave face as I hand her a newly filled glass, and she takes a small sip.
“Take it slow,” I say, holding my breath. She nods, then takes another sip. Then one more. She sets the glass down hard, spilling water on the floor and the comforter as she leans over the toilet again.
“What is wrong with me?” Her eyes fill and spill over. From exhaustion, fear, or plain feeling awful, I’m not sure. I sit down on the wet ground and rub her back.
“The boat does seem to be a bit rockier today,” I say. “The water might have changed. Or maybe it’s something you ate last night?”
“You had the same thing I did, and you’re fine.”
At this point, I’m less concerned about the cause and more worried about what we do now. “I think we might need to go to the infirmary. We need to get some fluids in you.” She doesn’t put up an argument, which is when I decide to call and ask for a wheelchair to get her there.
Less than ten minutes later, Michelle’s on an exam table and the physician’s assistant who helped get us there is preparing an IV. The tight band pinched around my chest for the last few hours loosens a notch or two.
“All right, standard stuff. This happens a lot on the first full day. Any chance you came in contact with spoiled meat or produce, any history of sea sickness, any chance you might be pregnant?”
“Oh, um, yes,” Michelle says. The PA stops in their tracks.
“Which one is that yes for?” It’s clear most of the time the answer is no.
“I’m pregnant,” Michelle says slowly.
The PA looks at me and looks back at Michelle. “You can’t tell?” I ask. I’ve been able to pick out Michelle’s baby bump for weeks now, but I guess if you didn’t know her, because of her shape, you might not know.
“Hey, now. I assume no one’s pregnant until they tell me or have a baby.” The PA holds up their hands for a second, then gets back to work setting the IV. “How far along are you?”
“Twenty-four weeks,” she says, hissing as the needle goes in.
“Fuck, sorry.” They pause for a second, then connect the line to the port he just put into her hand. “You guys signed the waivers, right?”
“Is something wrong with the IV? Her vein?” I stand up to look.
“Oh, no. I mean, she did surprise me with her answer, but no damage done. A bit more of a pinch than there should have been, I’m sorry. I mean, the waiver saying you weren’t boarding the boat past twenty-three weeks pregnant.”
I sit back down. Fuck. I skimmed through the waivers before I signed them, but never thought to check about any pregnancy restrictions. She can fly until thirty-six weeks, maybe a little less if her blood pressure rises. Why would this be any different?
“Why is that the rule? I can fly for another twelve weeks.”
“Because unlike an airplane, we can’t make an emergency landing if something goes wrong.” A sharp voice filters in from the entrance to the infirmary.