Chapter 13 #2
He peers into my eyes, wordless as he examines what’s hidden there, tilting his head a fraction. I exhale as his index finger brushes against my jaw, back and forth, mesmerizing.
“Is that all?” he breathes, staring at my lips.
I swallow, wondering how the roll of it feels against his hold.
This is where I’d make a joke, where I’d feel so much pressure in the moment, I’d try to lighten it with humor that buffers the intensity. But I don’t want to dull the sharp edges of our attraction, loving the way it pokes at me, making me arch into his hold on my throat.
I don’t know that he’s looking for a response from me, so I simply stare at him, willing and waiting for whatever comes next.
“I can be a gentleman, the kind of man you need.” He pauses, his thumb and middle finger applying slight pressure before releasing. “But when it comes to this …this primal need? I can’t promise you my best behavior, Daniela.”
“Then give me your worst,” I whisper, wetting my bottom lip with a swipe of my tongue.
The pressure of his fingers returning to the sides of my neck is the only warning I get before I’m being jerked forward to meet him, the stool scraping at the floor.
I can hardly breathe as he lifts me to plant my ass on the table.
Me.
Pregnant me, who’s always had generous thighs and a noticeably soft, rounded stomach I’ve worn with pride like an accessory.
I groan into his mouth, loving the desperation I find there. My hands are greedy as they roam his back before I bring them to his abdomen. I’m about to stop at his waistband, but he takes my hands and holds them in his for a moment.
It’s too sweet, and I lean back a little, not wanting to add emotions to something as easy as lust.
“Where’d you go?” he asks, setting my hands down on the table before covering them with his own.
“I’m not used to…the romance of it, maybe?” Once the words are out of my mouth, I feel shame. Here I am, pregnant, and I can’t say I’ve ever had sex with emotions attached.
I spent so much of my adult life chasing my ambition, and my teenage years were full of fleeting relationships that never made it past the six-month mark.
Relationships were just never my thing.
“I’m gonna need you to do something for me, okay?” he asks, his hands now on my thighs, leaning closer, spreading my legs wider to accommodate his hips. I nod, and he continues, staring down at me. “Get used to it.”
His fingers float just over my stomach, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to freak out over the intimacy of the moment.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers.
“Yes, chef,” I murmur as he sinks down in front of me, his face now inches from my pussy. His smirk makes me scoot even closer.
“I read that with the extra blood flow, you’re more sensitive.” He isn’t looking at me, and I wonder if he’s speaking to me or her. “Have you noticed a change?”
You mean when I’m masturbating?!
“Don’t get shy on me now, Daniela.” He grins up at me, and I sit back. I can’t see him when I answer him.
“A little, I guess.”
I gasp when he presses a kiss to my panties, the heat of his exhale making me squirm.
“Let’s see how quickly I can make you come,” he murmurs, rolling my skirt up before pulling my panties to the side. I barely have a second to breathe before his tongue is on me, licking at my clit before sucking.
He flicks at me with his tongue in quick strokes, bringing his hand up so his thumb rubs circles over my clit.
The orgasm is coming so quickly and strongly, my hands find the edge of the table, and I hold on for dear life.
“Fuck,” I call out, eyes sightless as I fall headfirst into pleasure.
Holy shit.
“I think that was a record,” he says, standing with a proud grin on his face.
I waste no time reaching for his waistband, tugging at the button of his pants.
“We don’t have to?—”
He’s cut off when I pull him toward me for a kiss, tasting myself on his tongue.
The groan he releases when I find his dick, stroking the shaft before squeezing the head slightly, is intoxicating.
This?
This is a song and dance I know well.
“I’ve never had unprotected sex before,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s waiting on me to give him permission.
“I don’t have any STDs,” I confirm, having done testing at my first baby appointment. We stare at each other and the intensity has me eager to continue.
I swipe the bead of precum from the tip of his dick with my thumb. With my eyes on him, I bring my thumb to my mouth.
He doesn’t hesitate to kiss me, and our flavors swirl together as he slips inside me, his hands on my ass, bringing me right to the edge of the table until he’s fully seated. We sit there a moment, and I watch as he clenches his jaw, savoring the feeling before he starts to move.
I’m still reeling from my last orgasm, and I can feel another barreling its way through my body. He pulls back, nearly pulling out, and I whimper before he slams back in. Each thrust feels like it’s determined to bring me closer to euphoria.
“That’s it,” he grunts. “Squeeze me.”
Another quick orgasm—it’s like he’s collecting them from me as I cry out before he presses his mouth to mine.
He doesn’t stop, and it’s only once I’ve orgasmed twice more that he finally pulls out, pumping his cum onto my thigh.
We’re sweaty, breathing heavy, when I laugh.
“What?” he asks before kissing the side of my face and tucking himself into his pants.
I shake my head, watching as he reaches for a paper towel to wipe my thigh. “It isn’t like I’m going to get pregnant,” I tell him, adjusting my panties and taking the hands he offers to slide down from the table.
“I don’t want to make any assumptions,” he starts. “Or mistakes, I guess.”
When he drops me at my front door an hour later, armed with a stockpile of dessert options, a soft kiss, and the promise of calling me tomorrow, I think about mistakes.
And if I’m making one myself.