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I waste no time getting her jeans all the way off, ripping open her blouse and fumbling with the snap of her bra. Those lavish tits spill out and I almost spray my seed everywhere.
“God, you are so fucking perfect, baby.” I lean down, guiding one of her tits to my mouth in a gentle hand and suckling that little raspberry tip, my balls pounding with a riotous pulse, dick begging to be planted between her curvy thighs. “My lush little girl,” I breathe, licking my fingers and trailing them down her stomach toward her…
I stop.
My heart seizes in my chest.
There is something different about her shape.
Her belly has a subtle swell, a barely noticeable difference to the naked eye, but I remember every square inch of this girl. I’ve thought of nothing else for months.
“You’re pregnant.”
Tatum’s alarmed gaze flies to mine and I have my answer.
I’m immediately winded. With hope. With relief. And…pain. I’m in terrible pain.
“You weren’t going to tell me?” I fall to my knees and press my face to the bump, incapable of swallowing, my hands roaming over her hips, her belly, memorizing the changes in her, small though they are. “You were going to send me away. Keep this to yourself. Weren’t you?” My vision doubles from the agony ripping through my chest. “That’s not happening, Tatum,” I wheeze. “Leaving you would have ended me. Hollowed me out for life. Leaving you and our baby? Might as well chain me up in hell. You think I could leave my family unprotected?”
“That’s just the thing, Hoss. We don’t need protection anymore. Not from anyone but…”
“But me?”
I ask the question to her belly, pressing my lips there.
Kissing her. Kissing our child.
“Yes,” she whispers.
And I know she’s right. I’m not normal. I’ve been reborn in blood and mayhem. I’m fueled by anger and hunger and desperation right now. I have no place around this perfect girl and this innocent child. But there is no way in hell I can walk away. Ever. And the pain of Tatum keeping this secret from me, when all I want is to cherish her, is too much to bear after everything else I’ve been through.
Pressure builds inside of me, expanding, pushing outward from all sides, my temples pounding, heart rioting out of control. I’m in such a fucking state of need and pain and love, I don’t realize I’ve carried her out of the bathroom until we’re already entering her bedroom and I’m pressing her down onto the bed. “I’ll be better, baby,” I grunt, coming down on Tatum’s sweet body, quelling her struggles with my weight. “Kiss me. Open your legs. Let me remind you how good it is when you trust me.” I rake my mouth up the side of her neck. “Heal me.”
For some reason, those two words seem to register with her more than anything else I’ve said. She goes still beneath me, our breath mingling together, her eyes searching mine. Slowly, her hands come up and her fingers thread through my hair.
I moan, long and loud and shamefully, at the caring gesture. I’ve never been cared for. I’ve never had someone look at me the way she is right now. Like I’m a wounded animal and instead of kicking me or closing the door, she’s considering bringing me inside and bandaging me up. “Please,” I say hoarsely, urgently. “Please.”
“What happened to you?” she whispers.
I swallow, bury my face in her neck. “The night you left, I fought them in the parking lot, but there were too many. The two men who were still standing at the end took me to the boss and he locked me up. For a month. In the basement of some warehouse, barely any food. Constant darkness. Daily beatings. They thought I was an undercover fed or an informant, since I helped you that night.” I press down tighter to her body, wanting to absorb her warmth and goodness, use them to battle the bad memories. “Finally, I got free and…Tatum, I killed my way out. I’ve been killing ever since to make you safe. Killed every last one of them. And I’d do it again.” I trail my lips up to her mouth and snare her in a kiss. A hot, promissory one that makes her gasp, her back arching beneath me, her plush tits on display. “No one touches Tatum,” I growl, feasting on her nipples. Sucking them one by one. Licking at the peaked sweetness with hungry strokes of my tongue. “No one but me.”
“Th-thank you for defending me,” she chokes out, starting to tremble. “I’m sorry for what you went through. It must have been terrible. But—”
“Shhh.” I kiss my way down her body, nibbling at her swollen belly and hips, hands pressing her knees open. “Like I said, I would do it again.” She’s still wearing her panties, but they are thin and easy to rip off with two hooked fingers—and then, there it is. The pussy that I’ve been thinking about nonstop since I first walked into her diner. It’s as perfect as I remember. Soft and juicy, her slit glistening in welcome, leaving no doubt that she wants this cock. The evidence is right there in front of my face and it’s on my tongue, too, because I’m already lapping at her. Kissing the split of her sex, tracing it with my thumb.
I’m using my fingers to make a V and gently parting her flesh, revealing that slick, private place and the quivering little bud that’s going to push her over the edge. Not only into orgasm, but into needing me. Allowing me into her body, even though I’m an animal now. I lock eyes with her up the front of her body and I keep eye contact while jiggling my tongue against her clit. I do it without cease, seconds going by while she grows more flushed, hips restless, eyes unfocused. But I keep on looking at her and applying more pressure, more, jiggling until she’s panting, palming her tits and rubbing her nipples. Fuck. Hottest sight of my life. Knowing I’m tending to the pussy of the woman carrying my baby fills me with pride. Lust. Love.
Need her. Need our connection. The deepest one I can get.
Desperate for it, I do something that makes me a bastard. I wait until she’s right on the verge of coming and then I retract my tongue, savoring her sugary taste inside my mouth. I prowl back up her body with she shakes her head in disbelief. “No, please…just a little bit longer, Hoss. Please.”
“Be with me. Be my wife. I’ll lick you down every night of the goddamn week. I’ll sell you my tongue in exchange for one hard fuck, baby. You can do whatever you want with it.” I notch my cock firmly between her thighs, rubbing it in the stickiness of her arousal, gliding the trunk of it up and down between her damp lips, listening to her gasp when I ride over her sensitive clit. “Heal me. Let me in. Let me fucking love you.”
Emotion crests in her eyes and she pulls me down for a kiss. I feel the barrier give way between us, feel permission in the way she gives me her tongue, her inner thighs perching on either side of my hips.
With a ragged sound, I reach down and guide my dick to her entrance, struggling to get it inside for several seconds, before grinding it deep, deeper, all the way to my balls, my harsh expletive loud in the small, dark room. “Motherfucker. Baby’s even tighter than I remember.” It’s a wonder I don’t flood her right then and there, but I can’t. Not when she’s already so wary of me, her trust so hesitant. Thank God for her attraction to me or I wouldn’t be buried in the sweetest pussy on earth—and I show her I’m grateful for that. I scoop my hips up and twist them, stroking her inner walls on all sides, giving attention to her G-spot.
“Hoss,” she moans, her head beginning to toss on the pillow.
