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“Oh, fuck,” I breathed. “Don’t move.”
She didn’t move per se. But what she did do was twitch.
And that twitch was enough.
My thumb moved on its own volition, spreading out to brush over her clit.
And that one single touch felt like I’d taken a rocket and set it free throughout her veins.
She started to pulse. Her breathing picked up.
Her head went back as her nipples pebbled into such hard peaks that I wondered if they hurt.
Then she started to come.
By one single touch.
Just one.
And Jesus Christ, it was everything that I never knew I wanted to feel.
I’d heard of Tantric Sex before. And honestly, I wasn’t sure what we were doing was quite ‘Tantric Sex.’ But whatever it was, I decided it was about as close to the real thing as we’d ever get seeing as we were both hot-headed, in control, get it done now kind of people.
When she was finally done, her orgasm having left her a wrung out husk of a woman, she collapsed to my chest and breathed deeply against my chest.
All the while, I closed my eyes and tried to tell myself not to come.
“Ashe,” I croaked.
She moved until her hand was cupping my chin.
“What?” she mumbled, her fingers playing along the length of my beard.
I swallowed hard.
“I need you to get off of me. Slowly,” I ordered.
She sat up, and I hissed, unable to help the way my hips bucked inside of her.
I cursed and gritted my teeth, using every single bit of control left in my body not to come.
“Off.”
One word.
Said so stiffly that I thought that she might get pissed.
She didn’t.
She laughed.
The bitch laughed.
And what happened when bitches laughed? Their internal muscles contracted and released.
It was by everything that was holy that she managed to get off in time for me not to come inside of her tight sheath.
She was just lifting her leg off of my hips when my cock started to erupt with my release.
Hot jets of cum shot from my cock, coating her thigh and breasts with the first shot, and then my belly and chest with the second, third and fourth.
And when I finally was able to draw breath again, I looked at her with haunted eyes.
“How the hell am I ever supposed to put another condom on after that?” I breathed.
She didn’t have an answer, and neither did I.
What I did have was a burning need to run. Get the hell out of the bed and away from her sexy, hot, naked body before I did something else I was going to regret.
I did just that, moving until I was in the bathroom.
Turning the shower on, I stepped inside and told myself that it was okay. I could do this.
Only, she followed me inside the shower, and those pep talks didn’t work when she was so close.
They didn’t work at all.
As evidenced by the things that I did—again—minutes later.
Pissed off at myself and her twenty minutes later, I stiffly walked out of the shower and dried off as I moved.
When I was wearing a pair of knit shorts, I looked at her with annoyed eyes.
“We need to eat,” I murmured. “I’ll order Chinese.”
Hours went by, and that niggling feeling that’d been there before sex, and then after dinner when we’d eaten, went away.
It hit me again like a freight train in the middle of the night.
One second, I was dead asleep, and the next I was sitting straight up in bed, dislodging the sheet from both mine and Ashe’s body.
She shivered, her body curling closer to mine as she searched for the warmth.
My eyes took in her naked form in the moonlight, and I lingered on one spot in particular.
Her stomach.
Sensitive nipples. Weight gain—though I would never, not in my lifetime, admit that to her. The throwing up randomly. The exhaustion.
I thought back to how she’d eaten earlier, being pickier than normal with her food.
She’d skipped over the noodles from our Chinese dinner, instead focusing on my egg rolls. Egg rolls that she didn’t usually like. Not at all.
Now, I wasn’t an expert on this or anything, but I wasn’t a fool.
We’d had sex one time that could’ve led to something more…and that something more was here, staring me straight in the face.
One thought, getting louder and louder in my skull, kept hammering through my brain.
As I lay back down and covered us up once again, I tried to say the word that was rolling around in my skull.
I may not be able to say it out loud yet. But I could sure the fuck think it.
Pregnant.
Sensitive nipples? Check.
Greater appetite? Check.
Mood swings? Did sex count? If yes, then check.
Boobs bigger? Fuck yes.
Nausea/loss of appetite for no reason? Remembering the cats’ box smell from earlier, I would gauge that as a yes. Then her refusal to eat the noodles that she loved because they ‘didn’t sound good?’ That would be another yes.
