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Her voice is edged with need. “It’s been months of sweet and gentle lovemaking. And I love it. But… ungh…”
Meredith rubs her legs together, and the old bed frame groans in tandem with the noises she makes.
The truth is, I’ve been craving it too. In our time together, she’s shown me that I don’t have to treat her like a fragile thing in bed. The rougher I get, the louder and harder we both come.
She doesn’t need to say anything more. And she doesn’t have to lift a finger.
I love this. I love it when she lets me take over and toss her around in bed. In her pregnant state, handling her draws out a new level of protectiveness in me. Moving her body around with no help from her — positioning Meredith on her knees, face down, ass high, thighs spread wide — reminds me that she’s mine, I’m hers, and I’m the only one who knows precisely how to take care of her.
Her cream is slick when I reach down between her thighs, and I use it to lube my cock…and lube her ass.
“Yes…shit, yes,” she says, already pushing her ass back, and I haven’t even started.
I slip two fingers into her pussy, stretching her. Readying her to take what she wants. “My baby girl is so damn wet.”
“I’m ready,” she breathes.
“Damn right, you’re ready. Rest your head on the pillow, and I’ll make you feel better.”
Loving the way she yields to me, letting me play, I push her thighs open wider. I caress her soft thighs and squeeze her thick, round cheeks. All the while, aching to burrow inside her in every way possible.
“Nate?”
“Yeah, baby?” I say, notching my tip into her tight heat. At the same time I reach around and open her pussy lips, finding her hard, tight clit waiting for my touch.
“Can you also do the thumb thing?”
“Can I? Yes. But should I?”
She whines and pushes back against me, and I slide all the way to the root without another pause. Because that’s how my baby likes it. At the same time, I slip my fucking thumb into her sweet, sweet backdoor.
She cries out my name again, gurgling in pleasure.
“Teasing a pregnant woman,” she rasps, her eyes hooded, so blissed out she barely manages a sultry backward glance as I push into her hard.
I keep my eyes on her face, watching her eyes flutter closed. A slow, breathless smile takes over her face. The smile and the breathlessness grow as I repeatedly draw out and drive back in deep.
It feels so good to give my Meredith what she wants.
Life, in general, feels extraordinary.
The fact that she wants me? I’ll live to be worthy of her attention.
Epilogue
Five years later
Nate
“That’s him,” my wife says, gasping and staring at the man walking up to the hostess station.
We’ve been waiting and hoping for a table at Dulce, one of our favorite spots to eat whenever we’re in Mexico City.
Meredith’s job as an investigative journalist for the Associated Press has given her more freedom to travel in recent years. Especially when she conveniently pitches stories based in AP bureaus at prime locations. I love to tag along with her on these trips—for protection, yes, and to visit farmers and talk about my second favorite subject: coffee.
“Oh my god. Is this real life? That’s him,” she repeats.
I’m about to stupidly ask what she means by “him,” but then I see it. The man has the same bone structure, the same dimpled chin as our daughter, Beth.
