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Grace laughs softly. “It won’t hurt me or the baby if it’s just for a few minutes at a time.”
I nestle in, my face even with her full breasts, which I immediately claim, cupping one and bathing that nipple with my tongue.
“You make it sound like I’m only gonna last six minutes, come on now.”
Her breath hitches when I blow cool air over her nipple, watching in fascination as it puckers as I’ve watched it do a million times before. Nothing about Grace ever gets old.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she murmurs, then sighs as I repeat my nipple worship on the other breast.
Sucking in long, tight pulls, I secretly fantasize.
And then, that fantasy becomes not so secret anymore.
“Damn, baby girl, I can’t wait to drink your milk.”
We haven’t discussed it. Not even a little bit. And now it’s been so long that I’ve put it in my wife that I’m not in the right frame of mind. I’m just blurting things out.
I resume suckling and tasting as if nothing has been said. Situation normal. Just the boob guy enjoying his wife’s boobs down here.
Grace slides her fingertips through my hair. She makes a sweet humming noise, and I can feel her spine arch as she presses into me, pushing me to do more, to take more.
Good, maybe she’ll forget all about what I said.
Grace’s moans grow more urgent. I run the palm of my hand down her front, over her full tummy, and eventually cup her pussy.
“So warm. So wet for me,” I growl into her mouth.
“So ready,” she says on a gasp. Her ravaged breasts heave, flushed from her wolfish husband’s obsession.
“You sure?” I tease. “After you came five, six times?”
Through gritted teeth, she demands, “I didn’t have you in my mouth or in my fucking cunt, now, did I?”
Holy hell, pregnant Grace is a lot of fucking fun.
Teasing and talking time are over.
I graze my lips over hers one more time—wrapping up this conversation with a neat little bow.
And then I pounce. Shifting positions so I’m lying on my side in the opposite direction, I find my favorite spot.
With awareness of her pregnant stomach, I turn face down between her legs. Grace spreads for me like a flower, her scent enveloping me in her wild heat.
At the exact moment I spread her open with my fingers, I feel her delicate mouth on the tip of my cock.
It’s all I can do not to push in, but to let her take as much as she wants in her own time. I know from experience my patience will pay off.
I dive in, licking from the front of her cleft to the rear, savoring her salty and fruity taste.
“So delicious,” I murmur against her dampness. And it’s not just dirty talk; I honestly can’t fathom that it’s been months since I did this.
She assured me that I should. She tried so hard to convince me that pregnant sex while going through terrible nausea would be fine, but I waited.
I don’t know whether to congratulate myself or kick myself.
I wonder if licking, massaging her like this, making her come with my mouth, would have helped her in some way.
But there’s no sense in focusing on the past. I’ve no use for regret when my queen’s honey gushes into my mouth, dripping down my chin.
