"There," I said quietly. "Kept it in all night." I pressed my mouth to her, soft, just once. "Did exactly what it was supposed to do." Another kiss, unhurried. "Now I'm going to fill you up again."
"Oh god," she breathed.
"But first." I put my mouth back on her properly.
She dropped her head back.
I worked her with everything I had—slow, then faster, then slow again when she got close, reading every sound, every pull of her hands in my hair, every involuntary roll of her hips against my forearm. She was so responsive in the morning, softer and more open than any other time, all that careful control she carried through the day not yet assembled. Just her, unguarded, completely mine.
"Gage." Broken. "I need—I can't?—"
"You can," I said. "You're going to."
"Please—"
I slid two fingers inside her and felt her clench around them immediately, desperate and fluttering, and curled them forward and she cried out.
"Feel empty?" I said.
"Yes—"
"I know." I worked my fingers slow, watching her fall apart. "I'm going to fix that."
"Now," she said. "Now, please, right now?—"
"Come first," I said. "Then I'll fill you back up."
She came on my fingers with my mouth on her clit, loud and shaking, her thighs clamped around my head and her hands pulling my hair hard enough to sting and I stayed through every second of it, drew it out as long as I could, until she was oversensitive and squirming and trying weakly to pull me up by the hair.
"Up," she managed. "Get up here, I need?—"
I kissed her hip. Her stomach. The curve of her waist. Took my time moving up her body while she made increasingly desperate sounds about it.
"Gage." Ragged. "I swear to god?—"
"Swear to god what?" I pressed my mouth to her breast, felt her arch.
"I will—" she stopped. "I don't know, something terrible?—"
I laughed against her skin and she laughed too, breathless and frustrated, and then I was over her and the laugh dissolved when she felt where I was.
She looked up at me.
Morning light on her face, hair wrecked, lips swollen, eyes dark and soft and certain.
I pushed in slow.
All the way. Her eyes went glassy and her mouth fell open and I held there, deep, watching her feel it.
"Full," I said.
"So full," she breathed.
"Good." I pressed my forehead to hers. "That's where I'm staying. Every morning. Every night." I pulled back slow and drove forward and she gasped. "This is mine. You understand that? Every morning I wake up next to you, this is what happens."
"Yes," she said. "Yes, Gage, yes?—"
"You're going to be pregnant." I rolled my hips and she arched up to meet me. "Probably already are." My hand slid between us, found her still swollen and sensitive, and she jerked. "And I'm going to keep doing this anyway. Pregnant, married, whenever you'll let me." I worked her slow, felt her climbing again already, her body impossibly responsive. "Going to fill you up every morning and watch you get round with it and do it all over again."
