brIDGET
I woke him up with a bang. Literally. Well, the beginnings of a bang.
The sunlight had filtered into my dreams, pulling me to consciousness. I’d pulled back the sheets and found him hard. Morning wood. I’d heard that term somewhere. Probably a TV show. But I liked to think he was dreaming about me.
The cool air from the ceiling fan above chilled my skin as I shifted to a squatting position over him. His cock was so enticing. I just wanted to touch it and taste it and feel it inside me again.
I started with a touch. Just a feather-light graze of my fingertips along his length, watching for any sign of waking.
He didn’t stir, so I grew bolder, wrapping my hand around him, savoring the heat and weight of him.
My thumb swiped over the tip, catching the faintest bead of moisture, and I brought my fingers to my mouth, tasting him.
Mine.
The thought sent a thrill through me. I bent down, pressing my lips to the head, swirling my tongue in slow, teasing circles. His breath hitched—just a slight catch—but his hips didn’t move. Still asleep, or close to it.
I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, my fingers tightening at the base. A low groan rumbled in his chest, and his hand twitched against the sheets. I glanced up just as his lashes fluttered open, his gaze heavy-lidded but sharpening fast.
“Fuck,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.
I didn’t stop. If anything, I took him deeper, relishing the way his fingers tangled in my hair, not guiding, just holding, like he was afraid I’d disappear.
His hips lifted slightly, a silent plea for more, and I gave it to him, working him with my mouth until his thighs tensed and his grip tightened. Then I pulled back, licking my lips as I met his darkened eyes.
“Good morning,” I murmured.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabbed my waist and flipped me beneath him in one smooth motion, his mouth crashing into mine. I could feel the hard press of his cock against my thigh. But I didn’t want him on top. Not yet.
I pushed at his shoulders, rolling him back, and straddled him before he could protest. His hands settled on my hips, thumbs tracing circles against my skin as I reached between us, guiding him to my entrance.
His breath stuttered. “Wait. Condom?—”
I paused, hovering over him, the head of his cock nudging at my entrance, breathless and burning with need. “I want to feel you,” I whispered. “Just you.”
His eyes locked onto mine, fierce and searching. “You sure?”
I nodded. “You know I’m clean.”
His jaw clenched. “Me too. Got tested last year. Nothing since.”
A long beat passed. His hands gripped my hips, like he was holding back, thinking. Then he pulled me down for a kiss— deep, consuming, his hand cupping the back of my neck as he breathed against my lips.
“So come here, baby,” he murmured. “Let me feel all of you.”
I sank down slowly, taking him in inch by inch, my body stretching around him. We both groaned at the contact—so raw, so bare. I’d never felt anything like it, the fullness, the heat, the perfect friction of skin against skin.
“God, Bridget,” he choked. “You feel… incredible.”
I rocked my hips gently, testing the angle, the ache giving way to pleasure. His hands guided me, up and down, slow at first, then faster, my breasts bouncing with each rise and fall. His gaze locked onto them, his lips parting, and I arched my back, offering myself to him.
He took the invitation, sitting up to capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard enough to make me cry out. The dual sensation—his mouth on me, his cock filling me—was too much. Pleasure coiled tight in my belly, my movements growing erratic.
“I’m close,” I gasped.
He gripped my ass, helping me ride him, his own hips meeting mine thrust for thrust. “Come for me,” he growled against my skin.
And I did. My orgasm crashed over me, my body clamping around him as I shuddered, my nails biting into his chest. He followed moments later, his release pulsing inside me, his groan muffled against my shoulder.
Reality drifted back in like a slow tide.
I blinked and looked at him, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “We didn’t use a condom.”
I met his gaze, expecting panic, frustration—something. But he was smiling.
Not just smiling. Beaming.
“We might be having a baby before we know it,” he said, voice light, like it was the best news in the world.
I blinked. “You’re…not mad?”
He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Mad? No. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that I’m in love with you. That I want to marry you. Spend my life with you.” He laughed, breathless. “Guess this just sped up the timeline.”
My heart swelled, warmth flooding my chest. “I love you too,” I whispered.
He kissed me, slow and sweet, and for the first time, I let myself believe in forever.