Ghostface Killer(63)

He pushes my legs up and out, drawing my butt slightly off the floor. "Hold yourself like this."

I wrap my hands around my shins and stay in place, intoxicated butterflies in my stomach and a flock of drunk birds in my chest.

Baz grips his slippery length and guides the head to my stretched entrance. "Breathe baby, I want you to breathe with me." He covers my body with his, supporting himself on one arm. I feel the tip nudge against my rosebud, and I hold my breath. "Look at me, Stevie. Don't take your eyes off me." He pushes in, and the breach takes me by surprise. The head slides in easily. Way easier than I expected.

I release the air I'm holding hostage as Baz works his way inside. It's a slow, drawn-out process.

Baz is shaking, fighting the urge to plow right into me. His cock hurts way more than his fingers, but it isn't unbearable. Not like before. Not like when I was forced. I shake the thought out of my mind and stay with Baz.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight." He drops his head once he's halfway inside.

"And you're so big."

"You're good for my ego, baby." His entire body is strung tight, like he's petrified in a plank position.

I don't know when or how the tables suddenly turn, but once he's almost completely buried, my unease turns into impatience.

"Baz." I fidget beneath him, running my hands crazily over his shoulders and down his back. Scratching my nails into skin as I gyrate my hips.

"Am I hurting you?" Baz pauses.

"No," I force out. "I want you. More of you. Now." I clasp his neck rigidly.

He lowers his chest to kiss me, claiming my mouth while he grabs under my right knee. Pushing forward, lifting my ass into the air more than it already is, he gives in, thrusting his cock the rest of the way.

I scream into his mouth, and we both freeze. It didn't exactly hurt, but it wasn't pleasant either. We pant in tandem, nose to nose, chest to chest, linked in the most biblical way.

"You're fucking killing me. You feel so goddamn good."

His cock twitches, and the sensation resonates through my entire body.

"Move," I urge.

"I'm not going to last. I'm going to blow a load more catastrophic than the Hindenburg."

"I can withstand it. Move, Baz, please just move."

He complies, lifting his hips, easing in and out of me.

"Holy fuck." It's so raw. So visceral. Of all the ways we've fucked, this is the most primal. The most primitive. The most intrinsic.

Baz grunts barbarically as he moves, vicious, ferocious. It's brutal, but a beautiful brutal. I rip out the elastic that is barely securing his hair and knot my fingers in the long, chestnut brown strands.

I hold on tight as we hit a stride, undulating against each other, using the sweat and friction of our skin as we seek out our release like bloodthirsty beasts.

Everything below my waist constricts as Baz's pelvis persistently scrapes against my clit. A storm is coming.




 

 

"Shit, so tight." Baz feels my muscles lock down. "Stevie, come. You have to fucking come while I'm inside you. I want to feel it. I need to feel it," he chokes out, pumping harder. The all-consuming urge has finally taken control.

He doesn't need to ask or demand because I'm already there. His pelvis strikes my clit like a match, and I catch fire. Everywhere.

I screech as I come, yanking unapologetically on his hair. Baz lets loose a low baritone groan, sliding his hand down the back of my thigh to grab my ass as he slams his cock into me one last time.

It sounds like his orgasm causes him physical pain. It's as satisfying as it is arousing.

Once his climax discharges him, Baz pulls out of me lethargically and rests by my side. He's wiped. We both are. That was taxing in every way. Mentally, physically, spiritually. I think even the baby is zapped.

Baz holds me close as the fire crackles and pops, dotting lazy kisses on my shoulder as we drift off to dreamland.

The last thing I hear before falling asleep is Baz's velvety timber. "Mine. All. Fucking. Mine."





I WATCH BAZ chop wood through the kitchen window. He's been out there all morning blowing off steam. Shirtless, sweaty, and sexy as sin. It's early May, and although there are still slight traces of snow on the ground, the sun is warm and the air is fragrant with spring.

I place my hand on my belly where a small bump has finally made an appearance. The bright rays filtering through the paned glass over the sink makes my bold engagement ring glitter.

Who in the hell am I right now? I wonder as Baz swings the axe and the wood piece split's in two. Pregnant, engaged, and deliriously happy.

Happiness is a farce, Stevie. Benny's words slice through my perfect moment. It's an idea that's sold to the weak and devoured by the desperate.