“I’m going to give her what she wants.”
“You mean what you want.” I laugh, dropping the brush when he pulls me into his arms.
“I don’t see a difference here.”
His mouth drops to mine in one hell of a toe-curling kiss. I find my protests falling on deaf ears when he pulls my sundress over my head and cups my naked breasts; the feel of his hands on me never fails to render me incapable of speech.
“Are you going to give us what we want?” he whispers against my neck, trailing his tongue down to my shoulder to give me a light nip of his teeth.
“Usually, it’s the woman with the ticking biological clock, you know?”
His soft chuckles tickle my skin. “You knew I wanted a house full of babies, Em. The way you look when you’re pregnant, I can’t even put it into words. Just knowing that you’re growing our love in there unmans me. Straight to my knees, baby.”
“Quinnly is so little, Nate,” I weakly add, and judging by the ear-splitting grin on his face, he knows I’m going to give him what he wants.
“Just think about how close she will be to her sister.”
I laugh. “You can’t guarantee her a sister, you know?”
His handsome face brightens instantly. He looks down at my naked chest and bites his lip, the bright teeth peeking out for a brief second before he releases it. When he looks back up at me, the look of rapture in his eyes makes me gasp softly.
“Watch me,” he rumbles against my mouth before literally sweeping me off my feet when they give out in a rush of desire.
When he pulls me from the bathroom and pushes me down on the mattress, I look up at him and lick my lips as he pulls his sweats down and yanks his shirt off, blindly tossing them in the corner.
Ever since Quinnly was born, we’ve been using condoms. I didn’t want to go back on the pill while breastfeeding, regardless of how safe it was. Call me weird, but I wasn’t willing to take a chance that she got traces of that when I nursed. I had started to wean her two weeks ago when she started to prefer the formula that we had to supplement when I got the flu. I was heartbroken, but I knew it was time.
Nate’s been dropping hints ever since about starting to try for another child. Hints that I’ve been ignoring, but judging by the hungry look on his face as he looks down at me, he’s going to do his best to make sure I’m pregnant by the end of tonight.
He leans down, placing his hands on my knees before slowly dragging them up. The slow seduction of his touch makes me squirm, eager to feel him against me. He rubs his nose against my lace covered *, and I almost die of need when I hear him moan as if the smell of me alone is the best thing he’s ever smelled.
“Nate,” I whine.
“Hush,” he scolds, looking up with a smirk. “I’m enjoying my wife.”
He spends the next painfully long five minutes doing just that. I know because I whine every time the clock turns over a new number, my oversensitive skin burning with every touch of his fingers, mouth, and tongue. Each nip of his teeth causes me to cry out against the palm he placed over my mouth when it became obvious I wasn’t going to be able to quiet my screams of pleasure.
And we learned the hard way over the last six months, babies seem to sense when the worst possible time to wake up will be. Which is usually the second he pushes his thick erection inside me.
“Please,” I beg, muffled against his hand.
He looks up from the nipple he had been teasing, and he must sense how high my need is for him because the next second, he’s holding my legs up by the back of my knees and pushing into my body with one powerful thrust.
I whimper, rolling my lips together and biting down on the flesh to keep from screaming as he pounds into me with deep, rough, measured drives. Of course, when he pulls out, grabs my hips, and flips me over, I let out a loud yelp. That yelp turns into a scream of ecstasy when he slaps my ass while pushing back into me, even deeper than before.
His balls slap against my aching clit as he continues to push into me; swiveling his hips each time, he bottoms out and only lets go of my hips to smack my ass.
The painful smart of his palm mixing and mingling with the frenzied rush of pleasure he’s creating every time he hits that spot deep inside my body becomes overwhelming in its power. My fingers hurt from the grip I have on our sheets, and I start rocking back to slam into his hips, welcoming each thrust he makes. We both let out grunts and cries as we climb the peak, ready to tumble over the edge of what promises to be one hell of a powerful climax.
“Fuck, your * is so tight, baby. I can feel you hugging and pulling me deeper. You want me to fuck you harder?”
I make, what I hope, is a sound of agreement. I know words aren’t going to cut it, not when I feel like I’m about to burst into a million tiny pieces.
“Hold on,” he rumbles, tightening his hold on my hips with his fingers digging into the soft skin as he starts to piston into my body rapidly.