Another low sound from him, something satisfied and hungry all at once. I heard the tube. Looked over my shoulder to see him stroking his cock, covering himself with it. He was…he wassobig it made me gasp.
His voice was low and rich as he let out a hoarse laugh. “Christ, Millie…your pussy’s so fuckin’ pretty like this. All spread out and open for me.”
I gripped the edge of the bench.
His hands settled on my hips again. He lined himself up, the head of his cock catching at my entrance, and I rocked back against him.
“Fuck…” he murmured. “Desperate. You want me to knock you up, darlin’?”
"Yes."
"Say it right."
"I want—" I stopped. Breathed. "I want you to get me pregnant. Tonight."
"Why tonight?”
"Because I'm yours." The words came out certain, no hesitation. "Because he came here and tried to make me feel like a transaction and I'm not. I'm yours and this is ours and I want—I want there to be no question. I want it done."
That was all it took. He pushed in to the hilt.
Slow and unbroken, the bench holding me at exactly the angle that made it feelperfect.
He stilled.
"Feel that?" he said.
"Yes—"
"How deep."
"So deep?—"
"That's where it's going." His hands spread across my hips, possessive and certain. "Every drop. Right there. And then you're going to let that vibrator work you until your body takes me." He pulled back slow and drove forward and I cried out. "You're going to get pregnant in this room tonight, Millie. In my bedroom. In my house." Another stroke, deep and deliberate. "On my land."
"Yes," I breathed. "Yes, please?—"
"Please what?"
"Don't stop. Please don't stop, I want?—"
"What do you want?”
"I want you to fill me up,” I gasped. "I wanna feel it. I want to keep every drop and I want it to take and I want—" my voice broke slightly. "I want to give you a baby. I want to give you an heir and I want Arlo to lose and I want to marry you in six months and I want?—"
He drove forward hard and I gasped.
"Say that again," he said, rough.
"I want to marry you?—"
He made a sound that wasn't quite words. His rhythm broke open—still deep, still deliberate, but the control cracking at the edges—and his hand came around to find me and I jerked against the cuffs and he saidstay stilland I tried, I tried, I gripped the bench and held on and let him work me toward it.
"Come on," he said. Low and wrecked. "Come on, Millie. Let me feel it before I?—"
I came.
Hard and clenching, the bench holding me in place so all I could do was feel it, my whole body seizing around him, and he drove deep one last time and buried himself and held.
