I stretched and flexed my shoulders when I heard Jack's car heading up the drive. He was earlier than he'd said, and I was excited by the sound of his steps on the gravel. I'd been working on my sculpture since he'd left. It was far from finished, but I wanted him to see it anyway. There had been something special about this piece from the very start. I wanted to see if he could feel it too.

"Libby." He stood in the doorway, his hair a mess, but his eyes warm and soft on me. "I can't tell you how good it is to come home to you."

"Come over here," I said, reaching out a hand toward him. "Close your eyes… give me your hands."

I guided him to my chair and put my hands on his broad shoulders, sitting him down. I stood behind him and covered his hands with mine. "Forget everything," I whispered in his ear. "Keep your eyes closed and forget the whole world. The only thing that exists right now is your hands… your fingertips…"

I guided them to the piece on the table and helped him take the plastic cover off. Then I put his hands on the clay. I let my hands rest lightly on top of his. He had beautiful hands, with long, sensitive fingers. They were large and strong, but touched the clay with a lightness, a delicacy that made the surface of my skin tingle.

He explored the curves, the angles, what was smooth and what was still rough. He found the places where I'd just begun to create a few tiny details. The folds and the gentle valleys. The only sound in the room was our breathing. And he took his time. All the while my hands on his.

"It's only just beginning…," he said softly, into the silence. "But it's gentle and beautiful. It's familiar to me somehow, but I don't know…"

"I don't either," I said, smiling. "Not just yet. But it's going to be beautiful, I know that. All I have to do is help it find its way…"

The next thing I knew, Jack was standing beside me, towering over me, his hands touching my skin the way he'd touched the clay. His mouth found mine and I was lost in him. His touch, the taste of his lips. He was salty and sweet, making me want more. His cock would taste like this, I thought wildly. It was huge and pressing hard into my belly. I rocked my hips against him and the moan that escaped him made me bolder… frantic. It wasn't right, I thought, to have a man's child in your belly before you got to have the man himself…

I slid my hands up under his shirt and hit rock hard pecs. But the skin was like velvet under my fingers. He groaned and peeled my blouse off in a single move. I was naked under it, and my nipples were aching with need. All the air left my lungs when he took my breasts in his hands and he dipped his head. I was spilling over, swollen and tender. He caught one thickening nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking all at once. I wrapped a leg around his hips and my skirt climbed higher… High enough my soaking wet panties were pressed tight up against his slacks.

"God, Libby… I want you so fucking much…" His face was buried in my cleavage, his hands cupping my ass as he rocked his length along my barely covered pussy. "I've wanted this since I saw you… all fucking curves and sweetness…"

"Please... oh, please god…," I panted back. "I want this too. I fucking need this, Jack…" Even to my own ears it sounded like begging. But I was beyond caring. My body, my heart… wanted this man. It couldn't be wrong, not when it felt like this… not with everything between us already…

He pulled back, looking at me like he wanted to devour me whole. I might have been frightened… if I hadn't been feeling it too.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, kissing me, tasting me, shaping me to him. "I was supposed to keep this… just… business…"

"You won't hurt me," I moaned, his tongue finding the throbbing curve of my throat. "And there's nothing wrong with wanting…"

"Christ...," he cursed, sweeping me off my feet. "You have a body that would tempt a fucking saint," he swore, his breath hot in my ear. "I can't risk the baby, Libby. I won't…

But so fucking help me, I'm going to have you tonight. I can't wait any longer."

* * *

For a man who couldn't wait, he was taking his sweet, fucking time.

I was stripped bare and there wasn't an inch of my flesh he hadn't discovered… that he hadn't tasted. All except for the single few inches left inside me that were screaming out for him. His pants were still on, his cock all but ready to break free on its own.

He'd carried me upstairs, laying me down on his bed like I was something precious, breakable. "Not yet," he'd said through his teeth, when I'd reached for his belt. "I want you satisfied before you touch me, sweetheart. I'm not going to risk fucking you. Not now… not so soon after… I can't risk hurting you or the baby. And I can't trust myself when you're looking at me like you are right now…"

‘How?" I demanded boldly. "Tell me how…"

"Like you could swallow my cock so deep inside I'd be lost…," he answered. "You're so sweet, so soft… so luscious… I don't think I could have you just once… without wanting you forever…," he kissed me deeply and touched his fingertips to the place where I craved him most. "But I want you totally satisfied, baby…" He pushed two long, hot fingers into me, achingly slowly as I felt myself clenching for more. "I'm not going to stop until you come on my tongue." He dipped his face down to my core and my hips bucked all on their own. "I want you spent and exhausted by the time we get to me…"

I ached and cried out as his mouth took me in. He didn't just lick me. He took me inside his mouth, working with his fingers and his tongue. He eased off when my cries hit the high notes, and worked me harder when I moaned deep and low. It could have been minutes, it lingered like hours… And when I came, it seemed to last forever.

I ached and he gave.

I needed and he was there.

I hungered and he was everything I craved.

When I collapsed in his arms, he held me, stroking my face.

"Beautiful," he said easily. "Just like I knew you would be."