Chapter 13
TUCKER
Ijerked the wheel and the car swerved. “Jesus H. Christ, Misha!”
My mate had the audacity to laugh even though I could have run us off the road. “Sorry.”
“But you’re not.”
He shook his head, and I caught it out of the corner of my eye. “No, I’m not. I’m horny, and I miss the way your cock fills me up. I need it, Tucker.”
“Misha…”
“Tucker…” He was mocking me again, and I knew it, but I was terrified of doing anything that might put him in danger or cause him pain.
“Maybe we should wait.”
Misha’s disappointment pulsed through our bond. “Why? Dr. Abernathy gave us the all clear.”
“Yes, but what if something happens?”
“Like what?”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Something.”
“What if I promise to tell you if I feel any pain?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tucker, please. I need this.” I heard the pout in his voice, though I refused to look at him. I was weak for my mate in all the ways, and I knew I would have a hard time refusing him anything if he gave me his big pleading eyes.
“Can we talk about this later?”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
“I know you will.”
A little thrill of anticipation fluttered through our bond, and something about that made me more than a little nervous.
After dinner, Misha disappeared into the bathroom, saying he was going to take a shower, so I settled on the couch with my tablet and worked on a new design for a back piece I’d be starting for a client next month.
The piece was huge and would take multiple sessions to complete, but I was loving the design—a huge peacock surrounded by intricate florals, but instead of the peacock’s feathers being open, the tail was closed and trailed down past the client’s waist. It was going to be beautiful, and it only made me laugh a little that it was a peacock shifter that I’d be inking the design on.
She and her wife had been my clients when I was still in the last part of my apprenticeship in Atlanta, and they came to Key West at least once a year for new art.
This newest design was the largest I’d ever done for either of them, and I knew it would keep me busy through several of their visits.
I lost myself in the lines and shading for a while, so it took me longer than it should have to realize I hadn’t heard the shower turn on. A bolt of panic shot through me thinking that Misha had fallen or something, and I jumped up from the couch and hauled ass to our bedroom.
“Misha? Are you okay?” The words were out of my mouth before I registered what I was seeing. My mate was laid out on our bed, on his side, his head propped in one hand as he stared at me with fire in his gaze.
“Took you long enough.” Misha’s smile was wicked and seductive.
My eyes tracked over his body, and my tablet slipped from my fingers, landing with a soft thud on the carpet as I took him in.
He was naked except he wasn’t really. He was wearing lingerie.
Holy shit. My mate was fucking perfect. A sheer ice-blue top that was almost identical to the color of his eyes flowed around his baby bump.
I could see his pert pink nipples and every inch of his creamy pale skin through the fabric.
Misha ran his hand over his hip and down his thigh, and my eyes followed the movement.
My art was dotted along his skin, and seeing it barely covered by the lingerie was hotter than it really had any right to be.
My dick throbbed as I followed Misha’s hand lower.
His cock was wrapped in the same sheer blue material, and I could see the nest of blond curls at the base of his perfect cock, which was hard and leaking, a wet spot already staining the pretty fabric.
Misha traced a single finger back up his thigh, over his hip, his bump, and his chest where he circled a nipple.
He was mesmerizing, and I couldn’t look away.
My mouth had gone dry, and my cock was heavy and hard behind the zipper of my jeans.
Misha’s finger traced higher, ghosting over his lips before he beckoned me closer.
“Come over here.” He patted the space on the bed in front of him, and I moved toward him without conscious thought.
When I hit the edge of the mattress I stopped, staring at the love of my life.
I wanted him so damn badly and the heavy sweet scent of his slick was driving me crazy, but I was also scared.
I didn’t want to hurt him or our babies, and even though Archie had said we could fuck, I was nervous.
“Misha…”
My mate closed his eyes, looking for a moment like he was drawing from a hidden well of patience. “Tucker, Dr. Abernathy said it was okay. I need you. Please.”
He gave me big pleading eyes, and I was helpless to resist. “Okay, but if you’re uncomfortable, you tell me right away.”
Misha drew an X over his heart. “I promise.”
I nodded and reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and off.
Misha stared at the ink that covered my chest and arms like he always did.
Over the last year, he’d spent countless hours tracing the designs with his fingers, lips, and tongue, and a shudder rolled through me at the memory making my dick jump.
My pants and underwear joined my shirt and tablet somewhere on the floor, and I climbed onto the bed, walking on my knees toward where my mate was waiting.
Misha pushed up onto his knees too and we met in the middle of the mattress, our lips colliding in a heated kiss.
My tongue slid into his mouth, tasting his unique flavor, and I was lost. Any chance I’d had of holding back evaporating in the searing heat of our kiss and the feel of Misha’s skin under the soft silky fabric he was wearing.
My lips trailed down his neck, and he bent his head to give me more access, groaning when my teeth closed over his mate mark.
I sucked and tongued at the skin until he was shaking in my hold.
“Tucker. Please.”
Maybe it was an alpha thing, but I loved to hear my omega beg. My lips were still pressed against his skin when I asked, “What do you want, baby?”
Misha moaned again, and I knew without having to look that he had his eyes closed.
“I want to ride you, Tucker. I want to feel you deep inside me, filling me up.”
Reluctantly, I removed my mouth from my mate’s neck and my hands from his body and maneuvered into position, my head on the pillows against the headboard, and my body spread out for my omega to use however he needed.
The fact that watching Misha, round and full of my babies, riding my cock had been one of the things I’d been fantasizing about since the first time we met was just further proof that my mate and I were one thousand percent perfect for each other.
Fate had known exactly what she was doing when she’d dropped Misha into my path last Valentine’s day.
The sweet scent of Misha’s slick swirled around us, and I knew he was ready for me.
I expected him to climb off the bed and strip out of the pretty blue thong he was wearing, but he didn’t.
Instead, he straddled my hips, notching my cock between his cheeks and sliding his body over mine.
The sensation of warm, slick fabric caressing my cock had my hips arching off the bed.
As much as Misha wanted me buried deep inside him, I wanted to be there, and while I’d held back, I craved the hot squeeze of his body around mine in a way that made me feel primal and out of control.
My hands found Misha’s hips, and I squeezed tightly, making him toss his head back as he continued to tease me with the slide of his body.
“Baby, I need you too. I don’t think I can take much more teasing.”
Misha’s eyes fell shut as he ignored my plea, squeezing his ass cheeks just enough to make me crave him even more. This was his show, and I was at his mercy, and my sweet arctic hare was making sure I didn’t forget it.
He was perfect. Just fucking perfect.
“Mmm, Tucker. I love the way your piercing feels dragging through my crease.” He punctuated the statement with another roll of his hips and squeeze of his cheeks, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to roll him onto his back, tear the pretty panties from his body, plunge deep inside him, and give us both what we both needed.
Instead, my fingers dug into his hips harder.
“Misha, please.”
The tables had turned, and I knew that was exactly what my mate had planned.
His wicked smile was back. “I love it when you beg.” His thoughts mirrored mine from earlier, and I held him still while I leaned up to kiss him, when we finally broke apart we were both panting, and the front of Misha’s panties were soaked with precum.
My own had mixed with his slick, increasing the satin glide of our bodies where my cock was still cradled between his cheeks.
My fingers slid under the band circling his hips and started pushing the thong from his body, but he caught my wrists.
“No.” Instead, Misha reached behind himself and slid the soaked thong aside, his fingers brushing over my rock-hard erection.
He positioned my cock at his hole, running the metal balls of my piercing around his rim the way he loved before taking me into his body and impaling himself on my cock until his ass rested on my thighs.
We both moaned at the sensation. After weeks of nearly constant fucking before Misha’s positive pregnancy test, the last two months had been brutal.
All I’d wanted was to be inside my mate, but one of us had had to maintain a level head, though every time Misha had begged me to fuck him it had gotten harder and harder to say no.
Now, I wondered why I’d tortured us both, and I fully planned to make up for lost time.
Misha started to move, sliding up and down my cock and coating me in his slick.
He paused with just the head inside him, letting the balls of my piercing massage against the inside of his rim.
On every glide, his eyes rolled back in his head, and his fingers tightened on my chest, his blunt nails digging into my skin.
I loved watching my mate lose control, and seeing him ride me while he was pregnant was a fantasy come to life.
My hands left his hips to stroke over his bump, my fingers tracing over the new lines stretched into his skin as I cradled his belly.
“Fuck, Tucker. You feel so good. I needed this so bad.”
He picked up his pace, and his words turned into panting moans of pleasure as he drove us both higher and higher.
Through our bond I felt how being together like this made Misha feel—full, satisfied, and whole.
I felt the same way. Being inside Misha made me feel complete on an atomic level.
Being deep inside him and feeling his emotions through our bond was unlike anything else I’d ever experienced.
I’d had plenty of sex before I met Misha, but no one-night stand or hook-up had ever made me feel like my soul was going to fly out of my body. Sex with Misha was fucking transcendent, and as his tight channel squeezed around me and his cum painted my chest I soared.
The ridges on my cock erupted as I came deep inside my mate, and as I rolled us onto our sides, my fingers still tracing lazy, loving circles over his swollen belly, I knew without a doubt, there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
If I could stay buried in my mate, locked together with him body and soul, forever, I would because he was perfect.
This moment was perfect, our babies would be perfect, and this moment felt like it was somehow the beginning of the life I’d always wanted but had never dared to hope would find me.