21. Willow #3
He eases off only when I push weakly at his shoulder. Then he kisses my inner thigh, rises, and leans over me.
“That was fast,” he says.
“Do you want praise?”
“I want to hear you say you missed me.”
I cup the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine. I taste myself on his tongue while my other hand closes around his cock.
“I missed this,” I whisper.
His eyes hold mine. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“It’s what I can give you right now.”
Pain passes through his expression, but he nods. “Then I’ll take it.”
I kiss him again, slower this time. “I want you inside me.”
Corey glances at my belly. “We need to move you.”
“I know.”
He helps me onto my side and adjusts the pillows until my stomach is supported. Then he settles behind me, his chest against my back and one thigh sliding between mine.
His cock presses against my ass.
I reach behind and guide him lower. “Stop being careful everywhere.”
“I’m not risking hurting you.”
“You won’t.”
His hand covers mine. “Tell me if anything feels wrong.”
“It already feels wrong.”
Corey freezes.
I turn my head enough to meet his eyes. “Because you’re still not inside me.”
His laugh breaks into a groan when I push back against him. “You’re impossible.”
“You married me.”
“I’d do it again.”
Before I can answer, he lines himself up and pushes inside.
The first stretch pulls a deep moan from me. Corey moves slowly until he’s fully seated, then stops with his mouth against the back of my neck.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m full of your cock after four months. I’m better than okay.”
His arm tightens around me. “Fuck, Willow.”
“Move.”
The first thrust is controlled, but the next one has more force. He keeps one hand spread protectively beneath my belly while the other grips my hip and draws me back against him.
“That’s it,” I breathe. “Harder.”
Corey drives deeper.
My body is so sensitive that each stroke pushes me close again. His mouth stays busy against my neck and shoulder, kissing between rough breaths while his hand leaves my hip and reaches around to rub my clit.
I gasp. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything about you.”
The pressure of his fingers matches the movement of his cock. He fucks me from behind while holding me securely against his chest, adjusting the angle each time my breathing changes.
“Right there,” I tell him.
“I know.”
“Cocky.”
“You’re clenching around me.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s what you asked for.”
His pace increases. The room fills with our breathing, the quiet creak of the bed, and the wet sound of each deep thrust.
Corey kisses below my ear. “Tell me what you need.”
“Don’t stop touching my clit.”
“What else?”
“More.”
“Ask properly.”
I push back against him. “Please fuck me harder.”
“Good girl.”
He gives me exactly what I asked for.
Pleasure surges through me, sharper with every thrust. I grip the sheets while Corey keeps his hand between my legs, rubbing without losing the rhythm.
“Say my name,” he murmurs.
“Corey.”
“Again.”
“Corey, please.”
His control breaks at the sound. He thrusts harder, his breath rough against my neck while I meet every movement.
My orgasm builds too quickly to resist.
“I’m going to come.”
“Let me feel it.”
His fingers press harder over my clit.
The release tears through me. I cry his name without biting it back, my body tightening around his cock while he keeps moving through every contraction.
Corey groans and buries himself deep. His hips jerk once, then again as he comes inside me, holding me close enough that I feel every tremor moving through him.
Neither of us speaks while our breathing slows.
He eases out carefully, then reaches for the blanket and pulls it over us. One arm slides beneath my neck while the other circles my waist, drawing me back against his chest. I cover his wrist with my hand and let my eyes close while his breathing warms my shoulder.
We lie like that, tangled together in sheets that smell like both of us, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my belly while the baby kicks against his palm. I should feel vulnerable. Exposed. Instead, I feel something I haven’t felt in months.
Safe.
“She’s active tonight,” he murmurs, splaying his fingers wider to catch the next kick. “Does she always move this much?”
“She likes the sound of your voice. Has since the beginning, even when I was trying to hate you.” I turn my head to look at him, this man I’ve loved for nearly half my life. “She’d go still whenever you came into the room, like she was listening.”
“You’re making that up.”
“I’m not. Ask Mrs. Potts. She noticed it too.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his hand still pressed to my belly, his eyes distant with wonder and fear in equal measure.
“I’m going to mess this up,” he says quietly. “The father thing. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing. The only example I had was what not to do, and that’s not exactly a roadmap.”
“You’re not going to mess it up.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” I shift closer to him, pressing my body along the length of his.
“Because you care enough to be scared. Dena wasn’t scared of anything because she didn’t care about anything except herself.
You care so much it paralyzes you sometimes.
That’s not a flaw, Corey. That’s exactly what our daughter needs, a father who cares too much rather than too little. ”
“When did you get so wise?”
“I’ve always been wise. You just weren’t paying attention.”
He laughs, a real laugh, the kind I haven’t heard from him in months. Then he kisses my forehead, and a lock in my chest opens, some final resistance I didn’t even know I was holding onto.
“The morning-after rule,” I murmur against his chest.
“What about it?”
“I’m canceling it.” I tilt my head up to look at him. “No more pretending. No more running back to opposite sides of the house. No more separate bedrooms or polite distances or acting like we’re roommates instead of husband and wife. We’re in this together now. Okay?”
The smile that breaks across his face is like watching the sun come up after months of darkness.
“Okay,” he breathes. “Yeah. Okay.”
We fall asleep wrapped around each other, his hand still resting on my belly, and for the first time in four months, I don’t dream about being alone.
I dream about the future. Our future. The three of us, building something beautiful out of the wreckage of everything we almost lost.