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My hands find her belly again, rubbing soothing circles when I feel a kick. Little man is up with us, he felt what mama felt and he’s worried for her. I truly believe that he knows, or babies actually, know when their mother is happy, sad, afraid, alone. I know little man is in there trying to make her feel better. Reminding her and me of the presence and not the past.
“No. I don’t regret making love to you for hours, I don’t regret leaving Joel, the only thing that I do regret,” she trails off for a moment, leaving her words hanging in the air, while I wait for them to fall from her lips.
“I regret not listening to you and for always believing that I was saving everyone, when really I was making it worse.” A lone tear, perfectly shaped, falls from her eye and I hurry and swipe it away. She’s so perfect that even her tears are.
“No, hush baby, that night was his fault and his fault alone.” I shake her with little effort, but it gets her attention. “Do you understand that?”
Her eyes finally meet mine in a stare off. Her assessing me, while I assess her, searching for her understanding.
“Yes, I do.” I breath like I’ve been holding it in for years.
“Lana, I won’t let you spend another day blaming yourself. That’s not a life worth living.” I lean in and seal my words with a sweet kiss, my lips wet and warm against hers. She tastes like home, she feels like home, she is my home.
She whimpers, a soft cry as my tongue grazes hers. I move us back toward our freshly made bed. Saying that in my head sounds like a fucking life I’ve been hungry and dying for.
Lying her back gently in the sea of pillows that she decorated our bed with, far too much shit if you ask me, but it’s Lana and that’s evidence of her all over our home.
“Kingston, baby, stop we can’t—my parents.” She puts her hand to my chest and breaks our contact, pushing me back. I growl.
“Baby, we did it while we visited a few months ago. You’re already pregnant and I can be quiet, but they can’t expect anything less from me.” I laugh and start running my hands up her bare thighs, up and under the silky material of her nighty. Fuck, my hand touches bare, warm skin and I about come in my sweatpants when I realize she is fucking panty free.
“Mhmm,” she moans, throwing her head back when my knuckle grazes her wet core, dripping with that sweet honey that I’m hungry for.
“Besides, you’re the loud one,” I tease lifting her dress and dropping my eyes. There like a gift on a God damn platter is her swollen pussy ready for my attention.
“You’re so delicious, can I have a taste?” I lean down and kiss the inside of her thigh, the tiny white stretch marks evidence of her housing our baby. I like Lana with marks, my marks, the marks that prove she is mine completely. Her tiny thighs, stretching, her belly growing, her tits getting heavy with milk.
“Yes,” she moans, giving in without me having to even beg. A King doesn’t beg to have his Queen, all he does is look at her right, touch her even better, and fuck her into oblivion.
“Good girl, lie back and be quiet.” She lies back and her legs fall open on admission, her tight core glistening with arousal. I start there, circling my tongue and tasting her sweet nectar. She contracts on my tongue when it slides in just a little. I use my other hand and pinch her clit, causing her to scream out.
“Lana!” I say with authority, looking up with a cocky grin.
“Sorry.” She blushes then giggles.
“You be quiet or I’m gonna have to wait till they leave,” I warn, my fingers still soothing her clit after my rough touch.
Nodding, she doesn’t say anything and covers her mouth. I look down at her swollen eight month belly and her flushed face. She looks beautiful and I know the second Prince is born, I’m gonna work tirelessly at getting her pregnant again. I want a village with Lana.
I stay staring down at her as she blocks everything but her pleasure out. One hand grips the sheet and the other one wraps in her brunette hair. I add two fingers inside her snug heat, my hips moving forward, dry humping the damn air, I’m that turned on.
I want to do dirty tonight, fuck her every which way—and I probably could, I know I have blue balls already.
“Toys, where did you put them?” I moan. Using my free hand, I pull my sweats down and release my thick long cock and start stroking it. Using my thumb, I swirl my pre-cum around the tip, while my busy hand on her clit mimics the movement.
“They are in the drawer right there,” she cries, her hand pointing with zero coordination in the general direction of her nightstand. I don’t have it in me to even laugh at her lack of coordin
ation, I’m too horny and ready to blow with need.
Forcefully with great effort, I drag myself off the bed and my hands from her tight pussy. We both cry out, a moan so desperate we sound injured.
“Kingston, what are you doing?” She tilts her head with my movements, following me as I round the bed. I don’t answer, just hurry and open the drawer to find what I’m looking for. Finding the red bullet vibrator, I grab it and hurry to my spot on the bed. Her hungry eyes look at me as I flip it on.
Smiling down at her with a dark grin, I lay it against her clit, the fast pulsing vibrations setting her off within a second. I reach up in time to give her my palm and she bites down deep and I move the toy enough to slam up into her. I come fast, deep inside her.
“Fuck. Shit. Fuck!” I’m feeling pain from her bite, all while my cock is absorbing the pleasure, my body torn between which is more potent.
We sit still for a minute, while my cock slowly stirs back to life. I help her out of her nighty, showing me her perfect tits, perky, heavy and ready. I lick up the side of her luscious globe, my tongue glides along her scar, like I do every time I see it. I’m branding me there, replacing the pain with love.
