Chapter 38
Julia
Ihaven’t seen my feet since before Christmas. My belly has swelled to the size of a prize-winning pumpkin, and bending forward is a distant memory. I’ve given up on shoes with laces entirely. Slip-ons or nothing. It is not possible for me to be more pregnant.
Ian’s ears perk when my stomach growls, which seems to be every hour, on the hour these days. “Are you hungry? I can make something.”
“The fridge is still packed,” I announce from my spot on the couch, where I’m currently stationed like a beached whale.
“I don’t know how we’re going to eat through the food our mothers have made for us.
It’s enough for an army.” They’ve both been working overtime to make sure we are prepared for new parenthood… if those babies would just get here.
“We are expecting an army,” he reminds me, padding into the living room with a reheated bowl of food. “An army of three, to be exact. Plus an army of relatives eager to hold them.”
“Can’t wait,” I say, accepting the food gratefully. It’s my mom’s tteokguk, a traditional rice cake soup meant to grant good luck, and it’s delicious.
He grins as he watches me scarf it down, his tail giving that happy little wag that always makes my chest feel tight. “I love you,” he says for no reason. He must tell me ten times a day, and I will never get tired of it.
“Love you, too.”
The cabin is quiet today, which is strange after the chaos of Christmas with both our families. Eomma and the girls decided to spend the rest of their winter break at the other house, allowing Ian and me our last few days as a couple before the pups arrive.
It was sweet of them to give us privacy.
They’ve still been visiting nearly every day, though.
They come over to cook, chat, and watch movies with me, since I barely get off the couch.
And of course, my mom has a ton of advice for me about birth and postpartum, like I haven’t had babies before.
But I didn’t get to have her around when Samantha and Molly were born, so I treasure the time with her.
She’s also been cooking up a storm, which I’m very grateful for.
“Come here,” Ian says when I finish my soup, settling onto the couch behind me. “Let me work on your back.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” I shift forward, and he slots himself into the space behind me, his legs bracketing my hips. The warmth of his body seeps through my loungewear.
His thumbs dig into the knots along my spine, and I groan. The sound is obscene, honestly. If anyone walked in right now, they’d think we were doing something far more scandalous than a back rub.
“Right there,” I breathe as he finds a particularly stubborn spot. “Oh god, right there.”
“You’re so tight. Let me loosen you up.” His voice is low against my ear, and a shiver runs through me. This is exactly the type of dirty talk this pregnant lady needs.
“This is better than sex,” I lie.
He chuckles, the vibration traveling through his chest and into my back. “Poor pretty girl. You’re working so hard, growing our pups.” His hands slide down to my lower back, working the muscles there with firm, knowing strokes. “They’re going to be here soon.”
“I sure hope so.” I tip my head forward, giving him better access to my neck. “I feel like I’ve been pregnant for a hundred years.”
“Any day now.” He kisses the spot where my shoulder meets my neck, and my breath catches. “Could even be today. Dr. MacDougal said you’re ready to go any time.”
His hands slide around my sides, and when they brush the undersides of my breasts, I feel a spark of heat that catches me off guard. I’ve been so uncomfortable lately that I’d almost forgotten my body could feel anything else.
“Is this okay?” Ian murmurs against my skin.
“More than okay.” I lean back into him, and his hands slide higher, cupping my swollen breasts through my sweater. My nipples are so sensitive that even this light touch makes me gasp.
He groans, a low, rumbling sound that I feel in my bones. “I’ve been trying not to bother you.” His thumbs brush across my nipples, and I shudder. “But you make it so hard to be good.”
“Who said you have to be good?”
That’s all the permission he needs. He tugs my sweater up and over my head, leaving me in just my stretched-out sleep bra.
The fire crackles in the hearth, casting warm light across the living room, and for once I don’t feel self-conscious about my changed body.
Not with the way Ian is looking at me, like he wants to slurp me like a noodle.
“Look at you,” he breathes, running his palms lightly over my belly. “So full. So gorgeous.” He unclasps my bra with nimble fingers and eases it off, freeing my heavy, aching breasts. “These are even more perfect than before.”
I snort. “They’re enormous.”
“I know.” He cups them reverently, weighing them in his palms. “It’s incredible.”
Before I can argue, he dips his head and takes one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. The sensation is so intense that I cry out, my back arching. My breasts are so tender that his touch feels electric. Like every nerve ending is lit up and singing.
“Ian.” My fingers tangle in the thick fur of his mane as he switches to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. “That feels... oh god.”
He hums against my skin, the vibration making me whimper. His broad tongue is relentless, lapping at my nipples until they’re stiff and aching. I feel something building, a tingling pressure that’s all too familiar.
“Wait,” I gasp. “I think that’s let-down.”
Ian pulls back, and I look down to see a bead of white liquid on my nipple. My milk is coming in.
For a moment, we both just stare. Then Ian makes a sound I’ve never heard before, somewhere between a growl and a whine, and his tail goes absolutely wild.
“Can I?” he asks, his voice rough.
I don’t know why the idea doesn’t weird me out. Maybe it’s the oxytocin coursing through me. Maybe it’s just Ian, and the way he makes everything feel natural and right. I nod, and he lowers his head again, his mouth closing around my nipple with gentle suction.
The first pull makes me gasp. It feels like he sucks something out of my soul. The milk starts flowing, and his groan of pleasure vibrates through my entire body.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my skin. “You taste incredible. So sweet and creamy.”
He switches to the other side, coaxing more milk to the surface. The fire crackles beside us, warming the cooling, wet trails his mouth leaves behind. The contrasting sensations make me tremble, my whole body flushed with arousal.
“I need you,” I pant, not even sure what I’m asking for. I just need him. More of him. Everything.
Ian seems to understand. He helps me lie back on the sofa, arranging the cushions to support my back and belly. Then he strips off his thermal shirt, revealing the ginger-furred expanse of his chest. He tugs down my maternity leggings until I’m bare beneath him.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, running his hands up my thighs. “My beautiful mate.”
He lowers himself between my legs, hooking one over his shoulder, and I feel his breath hot against my center.
The first sweep of his tongue through my folds makes me cry out, my hips jerking toward him.
He’s done this before, many times, but this time it feels more intense, maybe because it’s been a little longer than usual.
His tongue delves deep, tasting me with long, thorough strokes that make my toes curl. He growls against my flesh, and the vibration sends pleasure sparking up my spine. I’m so wet, embarrassingly so, and he laps at me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
“Please,” I hear myself beg. “Ian, please.”
He lifts his head, his muzzle glistening. “Please what, pretty girl?”
“I need you inside me.” I’m beyond embarrassment now, beyond anything except this desperate, clawing want. “Please.”
He doesn’t make me ask again. He shucks off his jeans and props a pillow under my hips.
Then he positions himself carefully, mindful of keeping his weight off my belly as he slides into me with one slow, smooth thrust. The stretch is perfect, exactly what I needed, and I moan as he seats himself fully inside me.
“Okay?” he checks, holding still despite the tremor in thighs.
“More than okay. You can move if you want to.”
“Oh, I want to,” he growls, setting a rhythm that’s slow but deep. Every thrust pushes my pleasure higher, and when he reaches up to cup my breast, squeezing gently until another few drops of milk bead at the surface, I nearly shatter.
“How am I so close already?” I gasp, every nerve ending in my body firing at once. All the foreplay has me already teetering on the edge in record time.
“Let go,” he coaxes, his thumb circling my nipple, working it until my milk lets down again in a rush. “Let me see you fall apart.”
My orgasm hits like a lightning strike, so intense that I think I black out for a second. My whole body convulses around him, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through me as I sob his name. I shudder and writhe until I’m limp and gasping and tears are streaming down my face.
Ian follows me over the edge with a howl, his knot swelling inside me as he spills himself deep. Locked to him, trembling, I feel like I’ve been remade from the inside out.
“I love you,” I whisper against his fur.
“I love you too.” He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my lips. “So much.”
We turn to our sides and lie there, tangled together, his knot keeping us connected while the aftershocks ripple through us both. I feel so good. Loose and warm and thoroughly loved.
Except... there’s another ripple. Deep, wrapping around my back. Different.
I freeze. Is that a contraction?
“What is it?” Ian asks immediately. His nostrils flare as he scans me for distress. “Julia?”
“Nothing,” I say, relaxing. “Just aftershocks, I think. That was really intense.”
He relaxes a little, nosing at my neck. “Yeah, it was.”