Page 9 of Breathe Me: Smith & Belle

“Or what?” she challenged me, her eyes lighting with a knowing gleam.

“Or this,” I said, pulling her towards me and spinning her around so my mouth hung next to the curve of her chin. “I don’t want to hear another negative word out of your mouth. You’ve never been more beautiful.”

My hands pulled apart the sash of her silk nightgown, and it fell open, revealing the swell of her belly.

“I don’t want to look at it,” she mumbled, trying to pull the sash out of my hands so she could re-tie it.

“I do,” I said, pulling her hands away and transferring them behind her back. I used the sash of her gown to tie her wrists together, taking my time even as her head lolled back onto my chest. She stared at me, her blue eyes a volatile cocktail of anticipation and mischief. She was pushing my buttons on purpose. I’d been more gentle than normal, owing to her condition. Belle, on the other hand, seemed intent on seeing how patient I could be. I would show her that I was in control. “You will not cover yourself or try to shy away from me. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Do. You. Understand?” I said, cupping her swollen breast in the hollow of my palm. My fingertips found the flesh of her nipple, and I readied to squeeze, already enjoying the way she squirmed.

Still she didn’t answer, and I saw the corner of her lips twitch upward slightly before being tamed back to neutral. She was still trying to bait me.

It was still working.

I pinched her nipple gently, and her jaw dropped open, her face falling into a deeply relaxed, expressionless void. Her mouth formed a silent reply.

“I couldn’t hear,” I say, pinching harder.

There was a hiss from her sharp intake of breath.

“Yes, sir,” she murmured more loudly, half moan and half taunt.

Her words turned me on like a switch. I kissed along the curve of her chin, my hands caressing her breasts and belly, occasionally drifting toward her pussy, or as close as I could in this position, just so I could enjoy her pathetic attempts to move where she wanted me. She might have been baiting me, but now she was the one in my snare and I would decide when she came.

But this was far from being enough to release her to that welcoming dark space, she could find only at my hands—and we both knew it. I had no interest in endangering my wife while she was pregnant. No matter what she thought about the matter. Her tied hands searched the wool of my trousers until she found the bulge of my dick.

“What are you looking for, beautiful?” I teased, shifting just enough so that she could brush the rock-hard crest of my cock with her fingertips better.

“Someone needs to take charge apparently,” she whined. “I suppose I have to do it.”

I laughed, moving out of her reach. I had no intention of letting her have her way. She wanted an orgasm. I wanted to prove a point. Not that I wouldn’t see to her needs.

“Come with me,” I demanded, slipping the sash from her wrists to free them and then guiding her toward the foot of the bed.

I left her there and went to retrieve a black blindfold from the nightstand, then returned to where she stood. As I tied the silky fabric around her eyes, her hands began to reach for my dick again.

“Not yet,” I admonished, moving my hips away from hers until her hands grasped at air. “I love your body. Now more than ever. Don’t ever forget again.”

“Yes, sir,” she said demurely.

“That’s better,” I said, guiding her until her knees bumped gently against the edge of the bed. “Now, if you don’t want to look at your perfect fucking body, I won’t make you. But I want to look.”

I circled around to the side of the bed, dropping my trousers quietly as I went and climbed in, sitting up against the headboard. “I want you to crawl to me, beautiful.”

Her face beneath the blindfold morphed into a pout, but she put one knee on the end of the bed, then the other, her legs forming a triangle that pointed toward everything sacred to me: her perfect pussy and our perfect child.

She moved up the bed slowly, her long limbs languid and sure despite the changes she complained about. She sensed my legs were together, so she straddled them as she ascended, and when her hips reached mine, she practically purred with pleasure.

“You took your pants off,” she said.

“I’ve missed fucking you. It’s been a whole day,” I replied, watching with a grin she couldn’t see, as she rubbed her seam along my dick, bringing it to full, painful attention. “You’re so gorgeous.”

I reached forward and grabbed her hips, pulling them forward so my thumb could tease her clit while I worshipped her belly, planting the kind of kisses I hoped the baby wouldn’t remember.

I would never have guessed how fucking turned on her pregnancy could make me. Something about the thought of her carrying my child made everything about her more intoxicating. It was the ultimate possession of her. I was rooted inside her at all times—always with her. That she only asked for more? It was almost too much.