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“What is it?” I ask, turning back to look at him.
He’s staring at me hungrily, his eyes roaming my body. “Seeing you like this…carrying my baby…fuck, it does something to me, Esme.”
My heart starts to flutter as he gets up from the table. Even after all these years, it still shocks me when he stands up. He fills out all the space around him, hulking and solid. My giant. His words don’t surprise me—ever since I got pregnant, Grant has been even more protective than usual, and somehow even hornier. He’d probably lock us in our bedroom for the next three months if he could. And honestly, that would suit me just fine.
“Do you have enough time before you have to be back at work?” I ask, starting to back away toward the stairs. Toward the bedroom.
“Fuck it. I’ll make time, honey.” With every step I take backward, he takes a step forward, stalking me toward the staircase. “I’m craving my girl. You better be ready.”
My hand brushes the banister, and I whirl around, running up the stairs with Grant hot on my heels. He catches up to me easily and scoops me into his arms, careful to avoid hurting my bump before setting me down gently on the bed. I watch as he pulls off his coveralls and yanks down his boxers until he’s standing naked in front of me, six-foot-six inches of thick muscle. His cock looks hard as rock, already glistening with arousal as I ease myself onto all fours, letting Grant push up my skirt and pull my panties down to my knees. My pussy is exposed, wet and aching, ready for him, always ready.
Grant pulls me toward the edge of the bed, still standing up as he eases into me from behind, filling me completely in one fluid motion. Everything is hypersensitive. I feel my sex gushing with need, my clit already swollen and throbbing as Grant starts to move, fucking me desperately. It’s raw and animalistic, our moans mingling with the slick, wet sounds of his cock pounding me. It feels so good. It always does.
“Fuck, Esme,” Grant groans, reaching down to cup my breasts from behind, his fingers brushing against my swollen nipples until I’m panting. Every nerve is tingling, buzzing with pleasure as my husband fucks me, his balls slapping against my engorged clit with every thrust.
“Oh, God!” I sob, my moans half-animal half-woman. “Fuck me, Grant!”
He drives into me harder, leaving me breathless as he fills me with his cock over and over again. I reach down between my legs and rub my clit, circling the bud of nerves with my fingers, gasping. It’s too much. Too intense.
I come hard, my walls clamping tight around my husband’s cock, milking it dry. I hear his groan, feel his warm come fill me as I’m assaulted by waves of pleasure. They crash through my body until I’m trembling.
Grant collapses onto the bed beside me, pulling me toward him so that I’m lying on my side, keeping pressure off my stomach. He smiles at me, still breathless from sex, his gaze full of love. Pure love.
“How the hell did I get so lucky?” he mumbles against my lips, capturing them in a soft kiss.
“I’m the lucky one, Grant.”
“You’re my world, sugar. You know that, right? You and Oli...you’re all that matters to me.”
I smile at his words, remembering how when we first met, I was so worried that Grant would break my heart. It all seems so crazy in hindsight. After five years, I know my husband better than anybody. He is loving and affectionate, and I know he’d do anything for me and our baby. Since the day we moved in together, the day I left behind my life in Chester, I haven’t doubted Grant’s love for one second. He doesn’t give me any reason to. He shows me every day that he loves me. He protects me. Cherishes me. And I know he’ll do the same for our son.
“I know, Grant. I love you.”
“I love you too, Esme. More than anything.”
