Wyatt-1(Lane Brothers, Book 1)(192)

I roll my eyes, letting him know that the odds of me not wearing my seatbelt after the hour-long lecture he’d given about the damn thing, are and will ever be in his favor.

“So when can I get out of this dump?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he mutters, planting a gentle kiss on my head. “Have I told you how happy I am?”

And so am I. Seeing his joy is infectious, the shove I need to make the maternal instincts rush forth.

I do spend the rest of that day ‘resting’ while people stream in and out of my room. By the time morning rolls around I’m so inundated with flowers, cards, balloons, and stuffed animals it looks like a gift shop.

One thing I do appreciate about what’s happened? I now appreciate every minute Greg is with me.





Chapter Thirty Eight




“Hannah! For God’s sake, stop that.”

I giggle at that groggy growl and keep licking at his erection, enjoying my first ever undirected exploration of his cock. When he snarls a curse and goes to pull me away, I give out a growl of my own and clamp down hard, using my teeth as a warning.

It’s been two weeks since I bum-rushed a truck, and he hasn’t so much as touched me sexually. I’m tired of waiting for his nerves to calm.

When he groans and grabs hold of my hair I open wider and pull his length deeper, using rapid flicks of my tongue to tease the thick vein running down the side.

“Fuck. Darlin’, you have to stop.”

But he doesn’t pull me away as he groans the words. Instead his hands push me a little closer while his hips thrust gently. I take my time with him, enjoying his taste, the gurgled sounds of pleasure, and the power that seizes me.

When he’s tensing and crooning I bob my head faster and apply a stronger suction, swallowing as deeply as I can. That does the trick and I feel him come, shooting his seed down my throat in strong spurts that last long and leave him gasping and slumped into the mattress.

I stop only when I feel his hands fall away and crawl up his body with a self-satisfied smirk and soothing kisses that rev me up in the worst way. By the time I reach his lips I’m grinding my clit into his thigh, unconsciously searching for relief.

Pregnancy hormones have taken my lust to a new level of intensity, and the added stimulation of giving him a blow job doesn’t do a thing to cool me down.

“You’re wet,” he purrs against my lips, grabbing my ass to grind me into the muscle of his thigh.

“Hmm, I guess I must have enjoyed that a little too much,” I purr back, spearing my tongue into his mouth to share his salty flavor.

He flips me onto my back with a growl and latches onto my breast, his eyes never leaving mine as he sucks and bites me to a writhing need.

“You liked the power, I think, but I think I need to remind you who’s in charge here.”

I moan when he releases my nipple with a pop and sits back on his haunches to look down at my exposed sex. A single finger strokes down from the valley between my breasts and stops directly on my clit, just resting there.

“I think we should take this slow. Real slow.”

“No.”

I’m begging, and I don’t care, just as long as he gives me what I need and doesn’t spend hours torturing me with his wicked mouth.

“Please, Greg. I ache.”

That finger presses down the barest bit and starts a gentle, circular motion that has my hips grinding up, seeking a harder pressure. He’s so controlled I can’t stand it, and I’m considering giving myself an orgasm when he thrusts a finger into me and growls, losing all thought.

“Jesus. You’re always so ready for me,” he snarls, pulling his finger out to line his cock up to my opening.

He bottoms out on the first thrust and I scream my pleasure, pushing back into him with every thrust.

“Oh God, you’re so beautiful.”

I don’t quite agree, since I’ve seen my sex face, but I’m too lost in the sensation of him filling me, taking me and owning me, to do anything but fuck him back and reach for the orgasm pooling low in my belly.

It strikes so fast I bow up and shriek, pulling him closer when the contractions start. I’m convulsing, pleading, screaming out my pleasure when he tenses above me and fills me, his own orgasms hitting so strongly that we’re a sweaty, fluid-slicked mess when it’s over.

“I love you.”

He grunts and rolls to his back, pulling me onto his chest for a kiss that curls my toes.

“You’ve gotten what you want, minx. Now go back to sleep, my baby needs you strong.”

What a lovable bastard, I think, snuggling down with a contented sigh.

One of these days he’s going to slip and let those words out.

***



“Oh, for the love of God. Really?”