Kiptyn

Leaving her panting like she had just run a five-mile marathon probably wasn’t the best move, but fuck, if I stayed in that room with her one more minute while she clung to the front of my shirt and kissed every part of my soul, then I wouldn’t have been able to keep from making love to her, and the doctor had been adamant about not having sex. The last thing I want to do is hurt her or the baby, so I pull away from her and flee the room like the coward that I am.

What she said about the baby being a basketball player hit me square in the heart. If there’s one thing I know for certain about Skila, it’s that she isn’t a vindictive or mean person.

I may not know her favorite color or food—something I realized and plan to rectify as soon as possible—but I do know her character. She would never have said something like that to me just to hurt me, which means that she does still want me to be a part of her and the baby’s life. She still wants me to be the father.

Hearing those words come from her lifted a weight off my chest that I didn’t even know I was carrying. We still have a lot of stuff we need to sort out, but knowing she wants to do it together leaves me with a sense of hope I didn’t have earlier. Things are already looking up.

Grabbing the skillet from under the cabinet, I place it on the stove and turn to grab the chicken from the refrigerator. A buzzing on the counter interrupts me. Swiping my phone from the bowl on the island, I answer the call.

“Sup, man?”

“Yo bro, what’s up?” You home?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, why? What’s up?” I ask.

“Not shit. You wanna get out for a while tonight? I’ve got a house full and too many to please on my own, bro.” He laughs into the phone. I hear the music in the background and someone yelling his name from somewhere else in the house.

“Nah, bro. I’m good,” I say. The thought of touching another woman makes my stomach turn like I swallowed month-old soured milk.

“Damn. Are you kidding me? That chick still got you strapped down?” he asks.

“Fuck off, Chris.” There’s no heat behind my words, but he gets the meaning. Skila is and has always been off limits. He knows that. Nothing has changed.

“All right, bro. If you change your mind, hit me up.”

“Yep,” I say and hang up without another word. It bothers me that he keeps inviting me to do this shit with him. I’ve told him over and over again that I don’t want any part of it, yet every time he’s out, he calls me up. It’s almost like he doesn’t want me to settle down and be happy.

Last night is a perfect case in point. If I had called Jordan then, he would have brought my ass home where I belonged and dropped me off with a six-pack. Not Chris. He took me to a fucking strip club and then let me leave wasted with his fucking keys. Who fucking does that to a friend?

Opening the chicken breast filets, I lay them in a glass dish to marinate while I get the other ingredients together. I'm making Sky my famous chicken fettuccine alfredo with sundried tomatoes. I know she’ll love it. Hell, she loves everything. I hear a whimper come from down the hall where Sky is, and my heart stops for a second before speeding up and leaping out of my chest. If she’s in pain, any pain…

I race down the hall and slide to a stop outside the bedroom door of the master suite. I hear a low moan, followed by a breathy exhale of my name.

“Kiptyn.”

She moans into the still room. Peeking in through the crack of the barely opened door, I see the sheet shift and her bare leg sprawled across the bed. I push the door as easily as I can and hold my breath as it glides open a hair more. I can see more of her now.

The silky soft sheet is bunched around her waist and dips across her hip to cover one leg, leaving the other completely bare. I watch as she takes one of her breasts in her hands and squeezes it before pulling on the taut nipple. Her eyes are closed, and her head is tossed to the side. She is so fucking beautiful. I could stand here and watch her for days.

Her other hand is tracing feather light touches across her clit. My cock is hard as a rock just watching her. I want to replace her hand with my own and take over, but something about this is so intimate, so provocative that I can't move. I can only look.

She dips lower, raising her leg when she does so, and slowly slides one finger into her glistening pussy lips. Another moan escapes her beautiful lips, this one deeper, more like a growl of pleasure. She slips back out and rubs the wetness across her most sensitive spot again. Her legs twitch, and my breath hitches in my throat. I want to be the one to make her twitch and scream with pleasure.

Her hand freezes, and when I look back up, her chocolate eyes meet mine. She looks shocked and ashamed to be caught doing something so beautiful and natural. I hate it.

“Don't stop.”

My voice sounds strange to my own ears, rough and ragged. She hesitates, unsure. I lean against the door frame and pull my hard, swollen cock free from the confines of my jeans. Taking it in my hand, I stroke it slowly from the base to the tip and back again. My balls are tight as fuck. I want to be buried inside of her, but the sight of her growing baby bump reminds me exactly why I can’t.

“Touch yourself, Skila.”

She holds my gaze for another moment before her fingers trace across her stomach, rubbing light circles on the stretched skin. Her hand wanders up and across one breast, to the other and back again, teasing. Her nipples harden. She’s still watching me, or rather, watching my hand, as I slide it up and down the length of my dick. She licks her lips, and my cock jumps in my hand.

“Touch your clit for me.”

Her hand slides down her stomach to the crease at the top of her thigh and then darts over to the top of her pussy, where her hand rests lightly on top of her clit.

“Rub it. Use two fingers.”

She obeys immediately, and the sight of her doing exactly what I tell her to do is empowering. I start to pump a little faster, up and down on my cock, only slowing to rub the moisture beading at the head around the tip. She hasn’t quit circling her clit. Her head is thrown back and to the side again, and her breath is labored. My hips thrust out as I stroke over and over.

“Slide one finger in.”

Fuck. I watch as her middle finger slides inside of her. She takes her time, enjoying the tortuous journey. When she pulls it back out, her finger is coated in her wetness. She slides it back in and out, over and over again, each time grinding her palm against her clit when she’s as deep as she can get. Her skin is flushed, and I can see the sheen of sweat coating her brow.

“Two,” I say, and this time when she slides out, she reenters with her ring finger too. Her hips rise off the bed, and she calls out my name.

“Look at me, baby,” I demand.

Her eyes meet mine, and I pump my cock faster and faster as she slides in and out of her slick folds. I feel my balls tighten. My legs are shaking, weak as fuck from standing here while I jack off, but I refuse to look away from the beautiful midnight goddess before me.

I feel my orgasm start at the base of my cock. My long, slow strokes are now short bursts of rapid movements. Skila’s hips are raised off the bed, spread wide for me. I can see every single move she makes, every time she slides her long fingers in, and when she wiggles them upward to touch that spot that feels just right for her. Her eyes widen, and her mouth forms a silent “O” right as my seed shoots out the tip of my cock, and I slump, exhausted, against the door frame.