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“Where are we going?” I ask him and he turns to me, grips my hips, and lifts me onto the counter.
“Right here,” he says with a grin. “I remember the bar, how you wanted me to make love to you like this.”
I smile shyly. I can’t believe that he remembers that conversation. I barely do.
I reach for him, intending to pull him closer to me so that I can wrap my legs around his waist and feel him against me. He surprises me by dropping to his knees in front of me, dragging me over to the edge of the counter and burying his face between my legs.
“Oh!” I cry out, one hand going behind me to brace me on the counter and the other tangling in Arlo’s hair.
I was already wet and dripping for him before he dropped to his knees. My core clenches and I whimper. I need him inside of me.
He eats me like a man starved, like he’s trying to make up for lost time. He licks up my slit, his tongue finding my stiff nub and circling the sensitive button. I grip the edge of the counter, trying to keep myself in place as he sucks my clit into his mouth and rolls his tongue over it.
One more flick of his skilled tongue and I’m done. I come. Hard.
Arlo keeps licking me through my orgasm and I sag back, catching myself at the last second before I can collapse completely on the counter.
“Too much for you?” Arlo asks as he rises to his feet and steps between my thighs.
“Never,” I tell him and he kisses me as he thrusts inside of me.
He makes love to me on the kitchen counter, making me come twice more before he carries me to his bed and tucks me in. I smile as he kisses my forehead and wraps his arms around my body. His hands find my belly and I smile as he places his hand there.
I know then that we’re going to be alright.
Dating Arlo, sleeping with him, was the first time that I did something that I wanted without thinking through every possible scenario and I’m so glad that I did. Now I’m about to have a baby with the man that I love. What could be better than that?
I let my eyes close and sleep claims me as Arlo brushes a kiss against my neck.
