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“Don’t be afraid to fuck me,” I tell him, matching the depth of his tone. “You won’t break me.”
Suddenly Hunter pulls out of my mouth, and I worry for a moment that my frankness has pissed him off.
“Stick out your tongue,” he orders with a fierce growl.
Oh wait, he’s not pissed at all. This is about to get freaky.
I do as instructed, and his face contorts, eyes fiery, as he ejaculates into my mouth.
“You see what you made me do,” he spits angrily.
“I made you come,” I laugh in a throaty way as I swallow his release down.
“And now you’re going to make me come again.” He advances himself onto the bed.“Stay right where you are. Strong hands and knees. Ass up.”
Hunter sounds angry.
But in the best way possible.
“Finally,” I mutter under my breath, but I think he hears me and gives one of my ass cheeks a smack.
“Quiet. All I want to hear from you is yes and more, and thank you.”
I lower my head and smile.
“Yes, sir.”
He bends over me, wrapping one hand around to palm my pussy and the other to guide his dick inside of it from behind. I almost lose my breath when he quickly fills me to the hilt.
“Is this what you want?” he asks in an almost bitter tone as he pounds my wet pussy, my thighs jiggling.
“Yesssss!” I hiss. “Thank you.”
“Why is your pussy so wet?” Hunter growls out the rhetorical question as if my vagina is one of the seventh wonders of the world. “And tight. And perfect.”
“We’re perfect,” I say, white-knuckling the sheets as he adjusts his position, stroking me at an angle that he knows is one of my favorites.
With his fingers still working my clit, I tumble into my second delicious release of the morning.
“Ooh,” I cry out.
“Megan.” My name rolls off Hunter’s tongue in the most reverent way as he releases inside of me with a powerful grunt.
The two of us collapse softly into the sheets and in each other’s arms, both of us still breathing hard. As we cuddle, Hunter plays with a few strands of my hair and kisses me once on my forehead.
“Are you okay?” he asks, gingerly skimming his fingers across the scar on my abdomen.
“I’m better than okay.” I turn my body further into his embrace. “How about you?”
“I think you’re going to kill me before the baby is born if we keep this up.”
“It only gets better, doesn’t it?” I say with awe.
“You’re not fully healed, Megan. We have to be more careful.”
The area of my wound is admittedly sore, but there’s no way I want him treating me with kid gloves.
“I love you,” I tell him, knowing that emotional confessions of this kind often stop him dead in his tracks.