Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Bram,” I whispered. “I know that foreplay is always your thing, but… can we speed this up? I’m really needing you right now.”
He obliged.
Settling between my thighs, he started to rub his cock up and down the length of my pussy, coating himself in my wetness before notching himself at my entrance.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. “This. I’ve missed this so much.”
He sank in to the hilt, not stopping until he was fully sheathed inside of me.
I felt so full, too.
Fuller than I’d ever felt before.
“I read that sex would be different when pregnant,” he growled. “But goddamn, you feel so much tighter.”
“I think there’s more blood flow.” I shivered in delight when he shimmied his hips, grinding inside of me. “They’re more puffy or something.”
“Puffy or not,” he said. “Shit, I’m not going to last. You should’ve let me get you off first.”
I was already shaking my head. “No. Please. Move.”
So he did.
He moved.
And it took one and a half strokes.
I was coming before he could even get all the way inside of me the second time.
My eyes closed, and stars burst behind my eyelids as I came.
So.
Hard.
I’d never come so hard before.
The squeak that left me was nothing short of embarrassing.
Or maybe that was the fact that I’d just come in less than two strokes.
Whatever the reason for my quickness, it was a good thing, because in the next three, he was coming right along with me.
When our bodies settled, and he all but fell to the side as to not crush me, I couldn’t help but to laugh.
“We’re two peas in a pod,” I teased.
“I haven’t masturbated since you left,” he admitted, sounding chagrined. “It’s been a while.”
I could tell by the wetness between my legs that it’d been a while for him.
I moved out of the bed and all but waddled into the bathroom.
When I got there, I had to have a laugh because I nearly ran into the bathroom door in my haste to get cleaned up.
“We need to get some towels in the bedside drawer.” I heard him moving around. “I’ll be back. Gonna go to the hall bathroom.”
I cleaned up and met him back in the bed five minutes later.
He curled me into him as he said, “I’ll try to do better next time.”
If he did any better, I’d be dead.
I snickered. “Much better, and I just might not live to see the other side.”
His arms tightened around me.
Then, with more seriousness than I’d been expecting for a conversation I’d just been teasing him about, he said, “You’re not ever allowed to die, Dor. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you did.”
I felt that in my soul.
His heartfelt words, and the way he was so serious, made me realize that he meant every single word.
Holy shit.
CHAPTER 19
Gossiping with my husband is a different kind of tea.
-Text from Dory to Bram
DORY
“No!” I cried out, laughing as I did. God, could the man make me smile. “You can’t do that!”
“Why not?” he asked seriously. “Dory, they’ll never notice.”
“They will, too!” I hissed, but there was still a smile on my face. “Not to mention, they’ll be able to tell by the way my freakin’ arm is weighed down when I’m carrying out a to-go box.”
He twisted the cast iron skillet over in his hand, then hefted it once. “It’s just so cute.”
It was.
We’d bought a ‘cookie monster’ dessert from the restaurant we were at, and it’d come out in the cast iron skillet that he was now trying to steal.
“If I can’t take it, then how will I ever make you another cookie?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me with mirth filling his eyes.
I had to pause at that one.
It might be worth it, going to jail for him trying to steal a skillet, just to have steady access to a cookie whenever I wanted it.
“I’ll buy one on Amazon. It’ll get here in like two days,” I teased.
“Amazon is taking like a fuckin’ week to deliver shit now. There’s no way it’ll get here in two days,” he grumbled, sitting back into the booth and crossing his arms over his chest. “For real. You won’t get it before next week. And I know you’ll want another one with how fast you ate that and barely shared.”
I snickered.
He was right.
I’d want another one before then.
“Then I’ll just get you to drive us back down the coast and we’ll come here again,” I pointed out.
He smirked. “It was a two-hour drive.”
“It was worth the two-hour drive.” I paused. “And if you let us take your motorcycle, then it’d really be worth it.”
He was already shaking his head no. “We’re not, baby. That’s a hard no.”
That made me sad.
Because in the last month, I’d popped.
There was no longer any way to hide that I was pregnant. And being on the back of his motorcycle was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.