Page 74 of Bound Hearts

“When was the last time we went hiking?” he deadpans.

I snicker, knowing he’s right. “Still, maybe walking is the only way he’ll sleep. Some babies always need to move.”

“So, we are driving out of the city up to Wisconsin every time we need him to sleep?”

With a smile, I swat him. He keeps me grounded. “It’s a circus of options. My mom keeps texting that back in her day, you didn’t need so much stuff.”

He chuckles. “My dad is the same.”

Sighing, I accept that this is all part of nerves. “I mean… wow, he’ll be here… soon.”

His closed-mouth smile is tender. “We’ll be fine. Money can buy us anything we need at record speed. But that doesn’t matter. I think we’re more scared of going to the hospital than we are of returning with a baby.”

He nailed it. “That’s it.”

“Sounds like you need that relaxing massage.”

“Sounds like you need a beer with the guys,” I volley back.

Foster prowls my way around the island with half a smile stretched on one side. “Seems we both have plans then.”

I nod, but right now, I want something else. Taking a few steps, I slip into his arms. “We have a little time to kill.”

Our eyes meet, and we just know our thoughts are the same.

“Turn around. I need to fuck my wife real quick.”

Purring, I obey and plant my hands on the counter. He’s quick to drag down my shorts and throws them to the side, leaving them hanging half off the edge of the counter. The sound of his zipper being pulled is as good a warning as any. This won’t be slow, and we are going to get to the point. I’m insatiable, needy, and every time he fucks me, I relax. Foster isn’t complaining.

I adjust into a perfect ninety-degree angle, my bump in the air before the counter, as if the air is a pillow, my arms outstretched against the cool surface above my head. His palm massages one circular movement on my behind, then skates along my body to my front, reaching the destination between my legs.

Humming a sound, I’m already getting hit with a dose of bliss. “I need this,” I say, my voice drowsy.

His mouth draws a line up my spine, only his breath hitting my skin, all the way to my earlobe that he nips with his teeth. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are carrying my baby? How every time I look at you, I’m reminded of what I did to you?” he whispers.

“Foster,” I breathe a warning that I’m teetering closer to a desperate orgasm. It’s unfair that he prolongs my need, but I love the things he whispers to me. My clit throbs from every word.

“You're needy today, Sutton, so I’ll be nice and give it to you quick and hard. I won’t be cruel and make you wait while my tongue tastes both your nipples and pussy. But make no mistake, I’ll use you.”

Dirty-talking Foster has been unleashed more while I’ve been pregnant. It makes me wild.

“Please,” I beg.

Hooding my heavy eyes closed, I sense him spit into the palm of his hand and give himself one stroke before he enters me, and I clench around him.

“Fuuuuck.” He enjoys his first pump before he gives me another, then more.

He squares my hips to keep me in exactly the angle he needs to hit every spot that feels good for both of us. When he’s confident that we are exactly where we need to be, his hands move to lift my upper body slightly to reach under and cup my breast.

The moment his fingers begin to flick my nipples between the pads of his fingers, I let out a shameless, loud moan. The sensitivity is overwhelming.

It only encourages him to thrust deeper and quicker inside of me.

“I know you’re close.” He grunts as his own pleasure is building. “This body drives me crazy. So perfectly fuckable.”

I throw him a glance over my shoulder. “All your doing,” I remind him. “You’re the one who fucked me so deep that you put a baby inside of me.” A faint smile finds me when I say that.

We somehow become out of control yet purposefully on a path to an ending we both crave.