Nikolai
Her belly presses against me as she straddles my lap, skin flushed, lips swollen from my kisses.
She’s so round, so full with my child it makes my chest ache and my cock throb.
I run my hands over her thighs, up the curve of her hips, and settle them at the small of her back, where I can feel the slight sway from the extra weight she carries.
My child. My wife. My fucking miracle.
Rachel rides me like she owns me, because she does. She’s heavy with me in every way. And still, I can’t get enough. We’ve barely made it past breakfast without tearing into each other for weeks. The hormones have her soaked and needy. The scent of her alone has me feral.
“You’re insatiable,” she whispers, her voice wrecked with pleasure, eyes hazy as she rocks her hips down again, taking me deep.
I growl. “That makes two of us.”
She braces her hands on my chest, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
She’s a goddess like this, glowing, aching, mine.
Her breasts are fuller, heavier, her belly taut and round and perfect, and every single inch of her is soaked in need.
I palm one breast, watching her shudder when I squeeze.
She’s hypersensitive, always ready for me.
“You know what it does to me,” I murmur, dragging my mouth along her neck, “seeing you like this. Full of my baby. Fucked full every night until you can’t walk straight. You were made for this, malenkyi krolík . Made to be bred.”
Her moan turns into a gasp as I thrust up into her, hard and deep. She clenches around me, her body desperate, wild, writhing.
“More,” she pants. “Nikolai, please—”
I flip her in a single motion, pressing her into the sheets without ever slipping free. She cries out, clinging to me, legs wide, belly tight between us. I slow down, grinding into her, watching her fall apart beneath me.
“You beg so pretty when you’re this full,” I rasp. “I’ll never stop giving you what you need. Never stop filling you. You’re mine, Rachel. This body. This life. Everything.”
Her nails rake down my back. “Yours,” she breathes.
She comes with a cry, trembling under me, and I let go too, roaring her name into the crook of her neck as I spill inside her. Thick, hot, endless. I stay there, buried, panting, one hand protectively over the swell of her stomach.
For a moment, we just lie there. Tangled. Sweaty. Sated.
Then she laughs. Soft and sleepy.
“What?” I murmur.
She traces her fingers over my chest. “I was just thinking… if we keep this up, I’ll be pregnant forever.”
I grin, wicked and unrepentant. “That wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
She narrows her eyes, mock-serious. “You’re obsessed.”
I kiss her slow, deep. “Only with you.”
And I always will be.