That wasn’t to say that Lee had stopped his doting and cosseting. He lavished her with all kinds of attention. He purred and soothed as he rubbed lotion into her skin, helped her shower when she couldn’t bend far enough. Even gathered her up and let her sob when she couldn’t fit into her favorite yoga pants any longer. There were quiet moments as he snuggled her in the nest.
It all just ended with him between her spread thighs. Her body wringing his knot, her faint whimpers and mewls muffled against his skin.
“I want a cheeseburger,” Quinn said in a voice still thick and wet.
“Hadler says you need to eat better.”
Angling her head, she set her chin in the coarse hair of Lee’s chest. His eyes were closed, drifting in a pleasured haze as his cock continued to kick inside of her. Every position was uncomfortable for long, but having her huge stomach squashed between them was by far the worse. Sitting up, she made an experimental wriggle, but there was no moving off of him yet.
“I eat fine.”
Lee’s only response was to groan, pulling her hips down as he bucked up. The knot pulsed, more frothy come jetting inside of her.
Unsatisfied and restless, Quinn continued to squirm. Each move met with a quiet growl, a lift of his lips in a snarl, but otherwise Lee basked in the replete glow as he continued to come.
“With bacon. And fries,” she muttered after several quiet moments had passed.
Eyes opening to slits, he stared at her before taking a slow breath that left him in a sigh. “Be quiet, pet.”
Gray gaze skittering away from the lurking chill hidden there, Quinn shrugged the covers around her shoulders and clasped them under her chin. Looking out the windows, she made a face at the heavy gray clouds. Winter wouldn’t let go, clinging to every day with ragged determination. The weatherman predicted more snow, adding to the thick frosty layers still blanketing the ground.
Chest heaving in a sigh, Quinn turned her attention back to the drowsing Alpha. With a tentative curl of her lips, fingers braced against his chest, she made a small circle with her hips. Hopeful, she hummed as the thick knot edged deeper, rubbing at the spot that could make her scream.
“Be still,” Lee snapped as the breadth of his palm connected with her thigh.
Quinn choked back the squeal of pain, splaying her fingers wide to not dig her nails into his flesh. Head hanging so that the tumble of curls hid her face, she mumbled strained apologies. Stiff and quiet, she waited until he was settled and lazy beneath her again before she dared to sit up. Bundled in the blankets that smelled of smoky darkness, she looked out the window once more.
Three weeks of various nightmares and daylight terrors visiting themselves upon her psyche, ripping her sanity apart one little piece at a time.
She dreamed of Kahler often now, in the thin hours between the darkest night and the paltry glow of dawn. Always some variation of what had raged through her sleep this morning. He was always so angry with her, blaming, accusing, but then he would climb on top of her. Groaning and growling his pleasure in her, how much he needed her. Missed her.
Stupid lies.
Trailing her fingers over the swell of her belly, Quinn hummed to soothe the somersaulting bundle of energy. She giggled when a fist or heel punched her palm. Without thinking, she dragged Lee’s hand from her hip, holding it over the spot the little acrobat was pummeling.
Quinn frowned as the baby went quiet.
“What are you doing?”
“She was kicking.”
“Are you certain about that?”
Quinn made a noncommittal noise and released his wrist. Smiled as he slid his hand around to cup her ass. There were old wives’ tales about an Omega without her mate. The baby rejected anyone not the father and wouldn’t respond to another’s touch. While the little gymnast that she had refused to name yet often showed off, she did seem to go quiet under Lee’s hand. Even when he was being sweet, murmuring over her unborn child, the bundle remained still. Worrying at her lower lip, Quinn watched the first fat flakes tumble from the sky to disappear against the drifts of white beyond.
Her whimper was one of relief as the knot abated, letting her crawl off of Lee’s heavy thighs to collapse into her nest. Back aching, knees throbbing, she groaned and stretched. With a parting slap to her ass, Lee climbed from the bed and shrugged into his robe. Without a backward glance, he left, heading to his room to shower and dress.
Curled on her side, Quinn pulled the blankets to her chin and stared out at the wintry blur of sky. She wasn’t allowed to go outdoors anymore after her unauthorized shopping trip to a cheap strip mall off of the highway. Not that she much felt like stuffing her body into the thick layers needed for the cold just to waddle about like a lame duck.
Huffing and cursing, Quinn dragged herself out of the bed to stumble around the chilled room. Lee didn’t like it warm when he slept, so the thermostat was set to freezing and she didn’t light the little fireplace in the corner of her room since he came to her bed every night now. Teeth chattering, she muttered under her breath about males seeing to their own comfort as she searched for the thickest, baggiest sweats she had managed to find. Lee had been livid, pacing and roaring for an hour, but she still had the comfortable clothes she’d managed to find in the mall.
She swam in a sea of deep blue, hair a snarled mess wrapped into an unkempt bun before she plodded downstairs for something to eat. Hoping no one had finished off the giant bottle of hot sauce she had begged for. Shouldering her way through the kitchen door, she stopped short at the sight of the Alphas lazing around the kitchen island.
“Hungry,kroshka?” Ilya smiled, tilting the pan of eggs that were seconds away from being perfect for Quinn to see.
“Yes!” She didn’t try to hide her hungry gaze, her disgruntled mood swept away as the fluffy yellow clouds made their way to a plate. She didn’t question how he always remembered how she liked her eggs. Didn’t balk as he shooed her out of the way to pluck the hot sauce from the top shelf of the large pantry.
“Sit,kroshka, sit,” Ilya said on a low rumble, pleased with himself as he brandished the butter knife to smear thick pats over golden toast.
