Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Then he takes control of everything. He holds my hips in place as he pumps into me from below, thrusts that are so intense and deep they take my breath away. His sweat-drenched abs flex with every lunge.
“That’s right. Take what I give you. Take it and fucking love it.” His eyes move between an intense focus on his cock dominating my pussy and locking with my gaze as he drives me closer and closer to the peak.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!” I cry as he drags me back and forth over the base of his cock with each up-thrust. My hands fall to his rock-hard chest. We’re both wet from sweat and my pussy squelches on his cock I’m so fucking wet for him.
When he does an ab curl and his lips begin devouring mine, I’m done for.
I cry my climax into his mouth. It’s so strong and high and long I clutch him, feeling the entire foundation of my world rocked. “I love you,” I gasp right on the tail end of the comet.
“Fuck. Precious,” he whispers with a hoarse gasp and then follows me right over the cliff, pushing so deep and stilling there.
We lie there gasping in each other’s arms. I’m hot and sweaty and the air is scented with sex and a moment has never been more perfect.
At least until I feel the baby start to move.
“Xavier!” I gasp. I grab his hand and put it on my belly. “Do you feel it?” I ask excitedly.
Feeling the baby move has been one of the freakiest and most amazing things of my life. But every time I try to share the experience with Xavier, the kiddo gets all zen and goes back to sleep. Without fail, whenever I grab Xavier’s hand so he can feel, movement goes from super active to nada.
When I look up into Xavier’s face, I can see the same hopeful expectation. Followed moments later when nothing happens by resignation.
“Not today,” he says with a small disappointed smile, moving to withdraw his hand.
Which is when the kiddo starts doing freaking acrobatics.
“Shit. Holy shit!” Xavier says, moving so he can press both hands to my stomach even though it means upending me off his chest.
I laugh though because I can see the wonder on his face as he finally feels the miracle that’s been amazing me for several weeks.
His eyes shoot up to meet mine, a childlike sort of astonishment written all over his face, before he goes back to intensely staring at his hands on my belly like he can see through it to his son or daughter beyond.
And I don’t know if the kid got woken up by all the activity of moments before or if it was the salsa I had with my eggs this morning, but he or she is doing friggin’ somersaults in there.
Xavier keeps his hands on my stomach for a good ten minutes, his face a picture of devoted concentration and awe.
“You’re going to be an amazing father,” I say when Jr. finally settles back down and stops moving.
Xavier looks at me. For a second I can’t make out the expression on his face. His eyebrows are drawn together, his mouth open like he’s at a loss. Finally, he whispers, “I don’t know how to be this happy.” He shakes his head. “A man like me doesn’t deserve it.”
I scrunch my face. “What are you talking about? Of course you deserve—”
But Xavier’s suddenly in motion. He’s up, grabbing my underwear and jeans. Naturally he doesn’t hand them to me like a normal person would. He starts to dress me.
I throw a hand over my face. “I don’t want to move.”
He chuckles. “Somehow I bet you’ll think different when the mosquitos start coming out. It’s almost sundown and you know they’ll be out in droves.”
I groan but when he holds down a hand to help me up, I grudgingly let him pull me to my feet. I step back into my boots even though my legs feel like total jelly. I stumble a little while pulling my shirt back on over my head. He holds me steady at the last second.
“Whoa there.” He can’t keep the smirk off his face. “Have a bit of a rough ride, did ya?”
My eyes are at half-mast. I know it’s the guys who are supposed to get sleepy after sex, but I’m always taking naps these days. According to the websites, I’m supposed to get a second wind of energy somewhere here in the second trimester but that has yet to hit. I’m still Ms. Nappy McNappy Pants.
His eyes soften and he reaches forward to push a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Let’s get you to the house for a before-dinner nap, how about that?”
I use my last ounces of strength to lift up on tiptoe and kiss his lips. “You really can be a sweetheart.” Then I pull back. “When you’re not being a pain in my ass.”