THIRTY-FIVE
BLAIR
Baby is the length of Kenny’s teacher pointer
Colt’s hands wander the entire truck ride. His pinky slides down my thigh and hooks around the leg of my shorts, seeking out my panties, but I slap him away.
“You can wait the two minutes it’s going to take to get home,” I chastise him with no real firmness in my tone.
“It’s gonna take longer than two minutes for me to get inside you because I’ve got to shower first,” he whines, and my mouth falls open like I’ve just had a bag of gummy bears snatched from my hands.
“No, you don’t. We just had a whole discussion on how much I like it when you’re filthy.”
He smirks. “Well, yes, but not while you’re pregnant,” he says. “I could throw off your…” His hand waves through the air like the right word will simply fall from the sky and within his reach.
“PH balance?” I help him along. “How do you even know about that? ”
“I’ve been trying to read books and articles and shit when I’ve got downtime.”
I knew that. I’d seen the stack of books on his nightstand, obviously, and he’d read some of them right beside me, pointing out interesting tidbits here and there, but I didn’t realize how… involved they were, I suppose.
I also suppose I can’t really argue with him there. I didn’t know much about how wrecking my pH balance may affect the baby, but he was the one with the books, so I’d trust his judgment when it came to this.
“Okay, fine. You can wash your cock and your hands and your face, but you don’t need a full shower.”
He laughs as he pulls up to the cabin.
“Aye, aye, cap,” he agrees, getting out of the truck and rounding the hood. I don’t even bother with doors anymore. It’s a lost cause. He slaps my ass once he opens the door and helps me out, making me yelp. “Want you naked and on our bed by the time I’m finished washing up.”
“Okay, Daddy,” I mock him, but he grimaces. “Too much?”
“A few months ago, probably not, but now that I’m going to be a literal daddy…”
I grimace as well. He’s got a point.
“Go,” he urges, practically pushing me up the stairs and inside the house. “Naked. Bed.”
He veers right into the guest bathroom to wash up, leaving me alone to finish the waddle into the bedroom.
I’m exhausted and almost ready to tell him never mind when I finally get undressed, but Colt walks in butt naked with his freshly clean cock at full attention and I can’t very well say no to that welcome, can I?
“Have I told you lately how fucking sexy you are?” he says, taking my tits in his hands the second he’s close enough to do it and thumbing over my nipples.
They’re still really sensitive, but some days it’s a good sensitivity and others, I’d rather take a frying pan to his head than let him touch me there. Today is a good day, luckily for him.
“This morning,” I answer him, breath hitching as he ducks down to wrap his lips around one of them.
He hums and then starts to suck and I have to push him away.
“Too much?” he asks apologetically, using only his thumbs again. It’s a rhetorical question, but I nod anyway. He doesn’t seem to mind, his hands slipping down my sides instead as he ducks down to nibble on my earlobe.
“Hands and knees on the bed, mama.”
His voice is husky and his breath against my ear makes me shiver as I obey, climbing up onto the bed.
He’s always dominant but gentle with me, and it makes me wonder if he’s holding himself back at all because I’m pregnant.
Will the sex be even better after the baby’s born? I’m not sure I’ll survive it.
He places a kiss at the base of my spine, running his hands down my thighs and back up my sides.
They’re so large, covering so much of my body in every pass, and I can’t help but moan.
The size kink thing is getting ridiculous and it’s annoying as hell that he seems to have figured out that I have just as much of an obsession with his tattooed hands as I do his cock.
“Colt,” I beg, pushing my hips back toward his in hopes of brushing his cock and reminding him why we’re here, but he pulls back with a tut.
“What’s the matter, pretty girl? Wanting my big cock in your tight little cunt?”
Pride would be a stupid thing to have right now, so I’m grateful my mind isn’t the part of my body that’s currently making decisions or else I wouldn’t be nodding like I am, or giving him a whiny little “Please.”
“Fuck, listen to you,” he says, his right hand leaving my hip to align his cock with my entrance. I whimper again for good measure. “So goddamn?— ”
He pushes his cock inside me, all the way to the hilt as I fall down onto my elbows with a moan.
“Pretty. When you. Beg,” he finishes between thrusts.
I press my face against the bed and reach behind me blindly, not even sure what I’m reaching for, just wanting to touch him somehow. He grabs my wandering hand and pulls it up to rest on the small of my back, threading our fingers together.
“You’re so fucking needy, aren’t you, baby?”
I nod against the pillow, not even bothering to deny it.
His piercings feel otherworldly inside of me, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to them.
Like Colt has a point to prove after what happened last time, he takes his time with me until I’m shattering around his cock and whimpering from overstimulation.
Colt only hums. “I think you’ve got one more in you.”
“I think you’re going to make me go into labor early,” I argue through heavy breaths, but the pillow muffles my complaints.
“Not possible this early,” Colt says anyway, pulling out languidly only to then shove forward with force so hard it makes my eyes roll. “Trust me, baby. I’ve researched all about how to take care of you, especially during sex.”
I can’t focus on his smug little attitude anymore, because the new pace he’s adopted is pushing me closer and closer toward another orgasm—one that feels much bigger.
“Colt,” I warn, but he ignores it, bending over my back to press kisses to my shoulders.
“Let me have it, pretty girl. Squirt all over my fat cock and polish my piercings for me.”
If I wasn’t so far gone as it was, I may hate him for saying that, but my already-horny mind thinks it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever said and I barely register his cum filling me as I soak his cock in my own orgasm.
“Fuck, baby. You’re gonna end up killing me one day.”
I think that’s very rich of him to say, considering what he’s done to me, but I don’t have it in me to argue right now.
“You know, we really haven’t discussed what we’re going to name this kid,” I tell him later, lying on his sweaty chest that exhales deeply when the words leave my mouth.
“I’ve been wondering about that, but didn’t want to push it. I figured you had a name picked out already. Don’t most women choose those when they’re pushing around baby dolls as little girls? Pretty sure all of my sisters have theirs picked out.”
I laugh and make a mental note to ask his sisters what names may be off-limits.
They’ve all been so good about being there for me without only caring about the baby.
Even through their excitement, sometimes I think they even forget I’m pregnant, especially Tate, who’s constantly trying to get me on the back of a horse.
“Not at all. It wasn’t really something I focused on at all, if I’m being honest. In a vague sense, I suppose I figured I’d eventually have a kid, but not for several years down the line.”
Colt is quiet, which feels odd because Colt is never quiet. I tilt my head back from where it’s resting on his shoulder to look up at him. He’s biting back a grin as he looks up at the ceiling.
“What?”
“I feel like I should apologize for wrecking your plans, but I just can’t find it in myself to do it,” he says and suddenly I’m wearing a matching smile myself as I move back into the position I was in before.
“Yeah, me either. Stars aligning and all of that. Does that mean you’ve been thinking of names?”
“Sort of…” he says, trailing off. “I was thinking Clair,” he says and my brows furrow. Clair is a pretty name, of course, but it’s not one I’d think he’d come up with. I figured he’d say Sky or Magnolia or something equally outdoorsy.
“Why Clair? ”
He hesitates, clearing his throat. “Colt and Blair. Clair.”
That is, by far, the cutest but dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I look back up at him and his eyes cut over to mine, unsure.
“Is that stupid?”
“No,” I tell him. “But then if we have a boy down the line, what would we name him? Bolt?”
He has the audacity to look like he’s considering it. “Actually?—”
“No,” I cut him off.
Colt huffs and then grumbles, “Fine.”
I trail my fingers up and down the center line of his abs and the right side of his Adonis belt, tracing the tattoo there.
“Did you have any other name ideas?” I risk asking.
“Hope,” he says, quieter this time, still staring at the ceiling. His left hand comes over and laces his fingers with my wandering one, stopping my perusing.
It’s not hard to understand why he’d want to name our daughter Hope.
Especially with what he told me last night on our front porch.
I smile up at him, squeezing his hand to get his attention and puckering my lips when he looks down at me.
It’s a gentle kiss, an easy one. I hadn’t experienced kisses like these before Colt—kisses that led to nothing, just punctuation for an intimate conversation.
“I love the idea of naming her Hope,” I tell him when he pulls back.
He lights up in surprise, smiling with his dimples on display. “Really?”
He’s so incredibly easy to make happy, to love. I just hope he thinks the same about me.
“Yeah, baby. Really.”
Colt kisses me again and this time, it’s not gentle.
I’d riled him up a bit earlier with my finger-tracing and he’s cashing in on it.