“Lie down,” he says, his cock jutting out hard as an iron bar, my pleasure all over him. I climb onto the bed, lie down, but he tells me, “On your side.”
So I do, and I feel the weight of the bed shift as Duncan lies behind me, and then I feel his wide tip at my entrance.
“Hold on,” I say, then gasp as he thrusts into me. “Wait!” I breathe, but he starts to fuck me wildly, and he takes my hair into his hands and yanks it, pulling my head back toward him.
He brings his face close to me while he fucks me, whispers into my ear, “Cross your legs.”
So I do, put one foot behind the other, instantly making myself tighter, instantly feeling him so much more.
He fucks me ferociously, bottoms out inside me again and again, and I’m lost, can’t even make a sound, as he licks and bites my neck and shoulder, as he takes the side of my lips into his, kisses me.
I feel his hand over my hip, and he finds my swollen bud, and starts to rub me.
I’m just overwhelmed. It’s too soon! I’m not ready.
But he doesn’t stop, and I find myself back on the runway, knowing he’s going to make me take off again.
“Oh God,” I groan, my voice a slur, my eyes shut tight, my mind lost in the wind.
I feel his body heat, hear his sweat at each slap of his pubis against my ass, at each powerful thrust.
He’s making me feel so good again, so full, like he’s touching me everywhere, like every nerve ending in my body is firing off at once.
“Come for me,” he growls into my ear. “Squeeze your tight pussy around my cock, come all over me, Dee.”
“Keep going,” I hiss desperately, the agony of pleasure in my voice.
He pulls my hair tighter, and the stinging merges in with everything else I’m feeling. It’s a heady mix. “Harder,” I beg him, and he drills himself into me, tightens his grip on me, bends my head back farther.
“Come on,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Fuck, Dee,” I hear him groan.
“Don’t you dare come yet,” I order him.
“Your pussy is so fucking tight, Dee,” he says, voice husky. “God, you feel so good.”
He doesn’t stop, goes harder and faster, and I’m nearly there, climbing, so, so close…
“Ooohhh,” I cry as climax crashes over me, wracks my body. I’m frozen, a tense snapshot of pleasure, and my senses sear, and I’m electric with bliss.
He drives me through it, and then I hear him groan, and I feel him tense up, and then his cock expands inside me impossibly more.
“Jesus,” he grunts, emptying himself inside me, shooting his seed again and again into me.
We stay locked, stuck, spasming in pleasure. He’s breathing hard, his chest slick on my back, and he wraps an arm under my neck, and holds me against him, kisses the side of my face.
“God damn I’ve fucking missed you,” he says. “Every day has been like torture for me.”
I’m still coming down, am acutely aware of how hard he still is inside me. I buck my hips back, push him a little deeper, shut my eyes, savor him.
He stays inside me, and he forms his body perfectly to the shape of mine, holds me tight against him, smells my hair, behind my ear, kisses me, touches me.
His hands run up and down my body, grope every inch of flesh I have, run down to my sex and when he touches my clit I jolt, grin and hum, move his hand away.
He holds my thighs, traces the shape of my hip, pinches my nipples, kneads my breasts.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he says, taking my earlobe into his mouth, biting it.
I turn in his arms then, shudder as he slips out of me, and I climb on top of him, my hair falling down the sides of both our faces.
He kisses me, this time softly, lovingly, and we stay lip locked, and I realize just how much I’ve missed the feel of his lips, the taste of his tongue, everything about him.
“Duncan,” I say. “We really can’t just not talk about this.”
“Okay,” he says. “Let’s talk.”
“I know you’ve got questions.”
“I do,” he says. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
Chapter Thirty Six
He lies on my belly, ear pressed against my skin while I run my fingers through his hair.
“It’s a boy.”
Duncan looks up at me, and he beams me the most joyous smile. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing. “I found out a while ago.”
“Wow,” he breathes, running a warm hand over my belly. “A boy.”
“Yeah.”
“You thought about what to name him?”
“I was thinking Thom… with an ‘h’. What do you think?”