Ryder

I position her ass at the edge of the bed and open her legs. A groan rattles free as I gaze at the warm paradise I’ve already visited twice tonight. She’s so fucking pretty. So pink, plump, and perfect.

I can’t get enough of her.

“Lie back on your elbows,” I tell her, because she’s not the only one who can research the best positions. She leans back, all breasts and belly and beautiful flesh.

I rub the head of my dick against her, and she stretches her neck and moans to the heavens.

I push in.

She takes me easily. So fucking easily. It’s a wet, hot slide into her pussy.

And it’s fucking magnificent. I shudder when I’m all the way in. I still myself as my skin sizzles. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed her. I’ve longed to touch her again. And I swear, it’s as if she’s vibrating with pleasure already. She was wonderfully orgasmic in the first place.

But now?

She’s a live wire.

She doesn’t hold back. She never has. But tonight, she’s a new woman. She rides the edge the entire time. I can see it in the exquisite torture on her face. In the way her mouth falls open. In how her fingers grip the covers as if she’s clutching them for dear life.

And I hear it in her noises.

My lovely, gorgeous woman can’t shut up, and pride and desire suffuse me in equal measure as she cries out with every goddamn thrust.

Every single touch.

Everything.

My hands grip her hips as I drive into her, her heat enveloping me. She moans my name.

I groan. I try to form words. To tell her something dirty. Something filthy. Something to get her even hotter. But my brain is shot. All I can manage is a simple, “Feels so good, baby.”

“I know,” she says, panting. A bead of sweat slides between her tits. Lucky sweat.

I run my finger through it, stopping at the top of her bump. I grab her hips again and yank her down even tighter on my cock. I go deeper, and it’s fantastic.

“Nicole,” I rasp, and that’s all I’ve got. I’m nothing but heat, and sparks, and desire. Pleasure snaps everywhere in me. It bathes my brain. It floods every molecule in my body. I’m where I want to be.

Not just in her.

But with her.

This woman.

This amazing fucking woman, who’s falling apart beneath me. Who’s unraveling under my touch.

“Look at me,” I demand.

Her eyes flutter.

“Nicole. Look at me.”

I’m overcome with the need to connect with her.

She opens her eyes as if it’s the hardest thing to do. She meets my gaze and a surge of pleasure barrels down my spine. Hot and electric—a warning sign. “I want to watch you come again. I want to watch your beautiful face when you fall apart.”

She grabs the covers and moans my name. It sounds filthy and beautiful at the same fucking time. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be here again. I can’t believe I’m with her once more. And most of all, I can’t imagine being anywhere else but with her.

“Come with me, baby.” I lean over her, letting go of her hips, pressing my palms on the bed. I’m careful with her, making sure not to crush her, but I need to be closer. “Come with me.”

She grabs my shoulders, and she’s already there. I see it on her face. In the twist of her features. In the shudder of her shoulders. In the way she trembles. In how she thrusts against me.

I follow her, and my orgasm seems to last for minutes. It knocks out wires; it fries circuit breakers. It shocks my whole system with pleasure. I’m louder than I’ve ever been as I groan and grunt, and I can’t seem to stop as I find my own release deep inside this woman I have missed wildly.

I nearly collapse on her, but I remember my manners. I slide to her side, running my hand down her arm. “It’s good to be back here.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I don’t know how we managed without that,” I say. Only I do know—we’ve never officially been a we, but in some ways, I’ve felt like a we the entire time.

“I think the constant barfing killed my sex drive for the first several weeks, so we can blame that.”

“Glad your appetite is back.”

She nods several times. “Oh, it’s back, and it’s a hungry beast.”

“I’ll feed it,” I say, and then nip her earlobe.

She meows.

My hand drifts to her belly. “Think the baby is okay? Hope I didn’t knock Papaya out of place.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Men. The baby is just fine. Besides, the baby likes it when the mama is happy.”

“Orgasms are the key to your happiness. Duly noted.”

She laughs and whispers something I can’t make out.

“What did you say?”

She shakes her head.

I furrow my brow, doubting her. Or maybe I’m just wishing she’d said I make her happy, too.

But I’ll take what I can get. I bring her closer, and I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into me, but I can’t get enough of her. I smell her hair, running my nose through the lush strands. I cup her breasts, holding them, feeling their weight. They are bigger than before, and I want to spend my time with these beauties, sucking them, biting her nipples, licking the soft, sweet flesh of her breasts. “I think I might be obsessed with your body.”

“Really?” Her lips curve into a grin.

“Yeah. Maybe that makes me a freak, but you’ve never been more beautiful.” I sigh happily.

“I see orgasms fry your brain, too.”

“I mean it. You’re gorgeous. All your curves. All your bumps. Everything.” I run my hand over her stomach. “Everything about you is perfect.”

And the moment becomes more perfect when her belly moves against my hand. Like a little roller coaster. A wave.

“I felt a kick,” I say, in absolute awe. Our child is moving in her body. It feels like a complete and utter miracle, and I get to witness it. She mentioned in her texts that the baby had started kicking, but I didn’t expect him or her to show off for me so soon.

“Isn’t it incredible?”

I nod. “Will it kick again?”

“Maybe.”

I don’t move my hand from her stomach. I keep my palm curved over her warm flesh, saying nothing, as if silence will recreate this moment. Then it happens, like an alien pushing against me. Another little miracle, and I want to experience every single one with her.

I kiss Nicole, tender and gentle, full of so much emotion. So much more than I’ve felt before. I am so far gone.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I wake to find her hands on me. We’re face to face, and her fingers explore my pecs then trail down to my abs. She reaches between my legs. She strokes me, and her breath catches. Mine does, too.

Gently, I set my hands on her shoulders, and flip her to the other side. I tug her against me, her back to my chest.

We are spoons.

We speak wordlessly, with slow touches and tender moans. With her soft wetness and my hard length. And as she pushes her rear against me, she’s telling me more.

I reach for her knee, nudge it up to her belly, making room to ease into her like this.

She murmurs as I enter her.

I do, too.

In the dark, I make love to her.

Her soft cries float across the night, mixing with my groans, creating a new harmony of sex and need and want and desire, and most of all, absolute clarity in my heart.

We might still fuck.

We might still like it hard, and wild, and dirty.

But I’m making love to her now, and she’s doing the same to me. The world fragments around us as we come together. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m in love with the mother of my child.

But I know, too, that I haven’t a clue if she wants the same things I do.