Page 130 of Slapshot Baby

The skin-to-skin contact sends a shudder through me so deep my teeth chatter.

His mouth moves down my throat. When his lips reach my breast, he traces my nipple with his tongue, slow and circling.

The sensitivity that pregnancy has given me turns the sensation into something so intense my back bows off the mattress.

"Gentle," I gasp. "Be gentle there."

He adjusts immediately. His tongue feathers across the peaked skin with the lightest possible pressure.

Somehow that's worse. No, better. The delicacy of it makes me writhe against him, my hips grinding upward, searching for the hardness of his cock.

His hands start sliding down from my breast and I freeze.

If he goes further in this position, he’ll find the swell I've been hiding under loose tops, and I can't explain it tonight.

I've given him one grenade already. The second one will be sent on another day when the time is right.

"I want to be on top," I say.

He rolls us.

I unzip his jeans and push them down. He lifts his hips to help.

His hard, thick cock springs free. I wrap my hand around the shaft, stroking from base to tip.

He groans, his hands gripping my thighs.

I push my own jeans off. Pull my underwear down my legs and throw both somewhere I don't care about.

When I straddle him, the slick heat of me pressing against the length of him, we both make a sound that fills the dark room.

He puts a condom on. I reach between us, position him at my entrance.

I hold his gaze. The last time we did this, I gave in to something I couldn't fight anymore.

Tonight I'm not surrendering. I'm deciding.

I sink onto him inch by inch. The stretch of him filling me pulls a cry from my throat. Every inch of him pushes deeper until he's fully inside me.

"Ava." His voice is wrecked.

I lean forward and press my forehead against his. My hands cup his face. My thumbs trace his cheekbones, the edge of his beard.

I hold his face the way you hold something you're afraid will be taken from you.

I start to move. Slow, rolling strokes, rising until only the tip of him remains inside me nearly slips free. Then I sink back down in a long, grinding stroke that drags him against the spot that makes my vision swim.

“You're so tight," he says through his teeth. "I can feel you squeezing me every time you come down."

"Don't stop touching me."

His hands find my hips, but I take his wrists and guide them to my breasts instead.

"Hold me here."

He cups my breasts with a gentleness that makes my eyes sting. His thumbs circle my nipples. The dual sensation of his hands on my most sensitive skin and his cock buried inside me makes my thighs tremble on either side of his hips.

I ride him with my eyes open. Watching his face. Memorizing the way his jaw clenches when I grind down hard. The way his lips part on a shattered exhale when I clench around him. The way his eyes, dark and blown wide, never leave mine.