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“Fuck, yeah.” I feel the familiar sensation in my balls. I am ready to blow my load. “I’m gonna come, baby. Are you there yet?”
“Yeah,” she lets out with a pained moan.
One thrust. Two thrusts. Three thrusts.
I bury my head in her neck and let out a cry like I am in agony that I came. Scar follows a few seconds after me, squeezing the hell of my poor dick.
Holding myself up with my forearms, I breathe heavily against her skin and listen to her calm her breathing. I stay inside her, not wanting to pull out, when I realize I wasn’t wearing a condom.
Shit. Shit, shit.
As if Scar feels my body tense, she gently strokes my back. “What’s wrong?” she says, out of breath.
Slowly pulling away from her neck, I look down at her face that looks freshly fucked. “I didn’t wear a condom,” I rasp.
“It’s okay. I’m on the pill.”
Relief sweeps over me. Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against hers and breathe her in. I stay inside her until my dick deflates. Wanting to cry like a little boy whose favorite toy was taken away, I reluctantly pull out and stare as my cum leaks out of her pussy. My eyes go to her tummy and the idea of our baby growing inside Scar gets me hard all over again.
Jesus.
I rub my hands down my face.
“Already?” Scar says in an amused tone.
I follow the movement of her eyes to my dick.
“Get ready for round two baby,” I say with a grin.
* * *
Scar
After round two and three, Maverick kissed me and pulled me close to him while we slept. I still can’t believe that Maverick and I had sex.
No, we madelove.
He rested his head on my stomach, his eyes looking up at me with a mix of curiosity and remorse. He wanted to know the story of Shaun's birth, the one he missed out on. I could feel the guilt in his tone, knowing that he wasn't there for me when I needed him. But I no longer held any grudges against him for leaving to pursue his career. I realized that my dependence on him was selfish, and it was time for me to learn to stand on my own two feet. And that's exactly what I did. I learned to be independent and care for myself and my son.
Now, Maverick is lying beside me, his arm under his head. His other hand skims down my bare back, sending shivers down my spine. I rest my head on my hand, feeling the warmth of his chest against my cheek. I look up at him and feel a surge of love and contentment.
God, he is so freaking sexy, even when he’s all sweaty and looks about ready to pass out.
“What are you smiling for?” he asks with a lazy grin.
“Nothing.” I chuckle.
My nerves get the best of me and I can't help but ask the question that's been gnawing at me. I take a deep breath and ask, "Do you regret what we did?" I search his face for any sign of regret or discomfort, my heart racing with apprehension.
His eyes narrow at me. “Why would you ask that?”
I release a small sigh and shrug, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over me. "I don't know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I guess it's because it's you, and I'mme."
Maverick furrows his brow, clearly confused. "Scar, that doesn't make any sense," he responds, his voice laced with concern.
I can't help but let out a small laugh, realizing how ridiculous I must sound. "I'm just babbling," I say, still unable to shake off the uneasy feeling in my stomach.
Maverick reaches out to me. "Hey, look at me," he says softly, and I comply, turning my gaze toward him.
