Page 9

GRACE

I wake again in Nash’s apartment. This time it’s to the smell of bacon.

I smile and open my eyes to soft morning light filtering in through white curtains.

My head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and it takes me a few blinks and several deep breaths to pull myself from the warm embrace of sleep.

As I prop myself up in bed, I inhale his scent, and my smile expands, filling my face.

Nash.

My body’s aching again in a delicious way. Stretched, sore, satisfied. And as I remember what we did last night, my skin already starts to heat up.

He made me come twice–no, three times.

What an absolute god.

I sit up and feel something down there–something warm and wet. It takes me a second to realize that it’s Nash’s seed dripping out of me, evidence of how deeply and completely he took me.

Smiling, I place my palm on my belly. Could I…

already be pregnant? There could be the beginning of a little life in there.

A child. Mine and Nash’s. It’s almost impossible to believe.

If you’d asked me a week ago if I’d even consider the idea of getting pregnant, I would have told you that you were crazy.

But now I can’t even think of the idea of having Nash’s baby without feeling excited.

The scent of bacon hits my nostrils again. Bacon and coffee and something else. My stomach growls, which surprises me. I was so lost in my thoughts of Nash and the idea that I might be pregnant that I didn’t think anything could distract me.

I step out of bed and pad across the wood floor. One of Nash’s shirts hangs over the door. I slip into it and wear it like a dress as I go downstairs. It smells just like him and is so soft. Yeah, he’s never getting it back.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I hear a deep voice humming, along with the sound of cooking. Such domestic bliss. It’s like we’ve been living together for years.

I come around the corner and look into the kitchen where Nash stands shirtless by the stove, his chiseled physique on full display. Only no one gets to see him like this–no one but me.

His hair is messy and damp, like he just ran a wet hand through it. He’s scrambling eggs in a pan with a spatula and another pan with bacon sits on the other burner.

He tilts his head up and sniffs the air, then turns and spots me where I’m leaning against the door frame. “There she is.” He smiles at me with a devilish look in his eyes that makes me think bad things. “Sleeping Beauty has awoken.”

“Could you really smell me from over there? With all that bacon in the air?”

“You smell a lot better than bacon, sweetie,” he replies.

“So you’re a charmer, you fix cars, and you cook?” I ask, walking over to him. “Is there anything you don’t do?”

Nash chuckles, wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close. I fit just right, like two pieces of a two-piece puzzle. “Don’t forget that I make you come a ton,” he whispers into my ear, sending a shiver through my body.

“How could I forget that?” I ask. He smirks as I look up at him. “You know, you’re nothing like what most girls would expect when they look at you,”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks. “And what do you think they’d expect?”

I shrug. “Someone…rougher, I guess? A barbarian who only eats pizza and drinks beer in front of the TV?”

Nash laughs and kisses me. “Oh, I’m rough, baby. But only in the way you like it.”

I giggle and bury my face in his chest. His scent is like a drug to me. I can feel myself getting wet again already. How am I going to exist around this man and ever keep my clothes on?

“You look good in my shirt, by the way,” he says.

“You mean my shirt?” I tease.

He shrugs, as if surrendering. “Be my guest.” He points to the hem and my bare thighs. “Easier access for me anyway.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” I blush.

He gives the eggs a last scramble with his spatula, then flips them onto our plates. He’s dishing out the bacon when the smoke alarm goes off. He curses and rushes over to the toaster and thumbs up two pieces of toast that are absolutely burnt to a crisp.

“Totally forgot about those,” he laughs, racing over to shut off the smoke alarm.

He easily reaches up and presses the button, reminding me of just how tall he is.

I’d have to stand on a chair to do what he just did so casually.

“Remembering not to burn your toast is harder than remembering how to change the timing belt on a Ford.”

“Ah, yes.” I nod, removing the burnt pieces and replacing them with two slices of bread. “Good ol’ timing belt on a Ford…”

We both laugh. I have no idea what I’m talking about. But I like that I don’t. I like the fact that Nash is an expert at something that I’m not even an amateur at.

The new slices of toast finish as he pours us both glasses of orange juice.

We take the plates to his tiny kitchen table and sit so close our knees are just about touching.

My heart flutters like butterfly wings as he slips a hand onto my thigh and squeezes, completely distracting me from the food he cooked–which is delicious.

He watches me the whole time. There’s a hunger in his eyes, but it’s not for breakfast. It’s for me. As I take my last bite, he leans back, his eyes focused like he’s unable to look away from me.

“So,” he says slowly. “Do you think you’re pregnant yet?”

My fork clatters to my plate, and I almost spit out my orange juice. He grins back at me like the naughty, wicked man he is.

“Nash!”

“What?” he laughs, leaning forward and taking my hand in his. “You don’t like that idea?”

My face is on fire. My skin tingles from head to toe. “I–I didn’t say that.”

He gently strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, keeping his eyes on mine. It’s like looking into my future. “You belong to me now, Grace. You know I can never let you go. So why not go all the way with me? Why not make sure the whole world knows you’re mine?”

I can’t help but smile. “You know what’s funny? I was actually just thinking about this upstairs.” I scoot my chair closer and place his hand on my belly. “Like… what if there’s a little baby growing in there? Yours and mine? How incredible would that be?”

He nods, his eyes blazing. “I want to see your belly all curvy, Grace. Getting rounder every day as my kid grows inside you. I want to see your tits get bigger–”

I laugh and shake from side to side, causing my boobs to jiggle under his T-shirt.

“What? They’re not big enough for you?”

Nash laughs. “They’re perfect , Grace. Everything about you is perfect.”

My cheeks are burning up. For some reason, I’m still slightly nervous around him, and I start to look away at the ground, but Nash doesn’t let me. He lifts my chin and moves right in for a kiss.

I let my lips fall open to accept his passionate ownership. His hands slip under the shirt I stole from him and cups my ass, lifting me up and onto his lap with such ease. His strength is such a turn-on. I love how easily he can pick me up.

My legs spread open instinctively.

“Are you still sore?” he whispers, delicately teasing the inside of my thighs with his finger.

“Yes.”

“You still want it?”

I nod quickly. Well, duh!

“That’s a good girl,” he growls.

His hand slips deeper between my thighs, and I feel him pause when he realizes my little secret; I’m not wearing my panties. And I’m already wet for him.

He groans again. I feel the rumble from his chest against my body. “You naughty little girl. Nice and ready for Daddy, aren’t you?”

I nod again. “Yes…”

“This is how I want you whenever you’re with me. Always ready for me.”

“Yes,” I reply, my body steaming with anticipation.

“Just like right now.”

Before I can even process what’s happening, Nash has slipped his briefs down and is setting me down on his hard cock.

My mouth falls open as the familiar stretch hits me.

The ache is there, only this time it’s lessened, like my body is finally adapting to his size.

Molding to him for a perfect fit. I go all the way down and feel him deep up in my stomach.

The pressure is intense. It’s like I’m being speared through my center, impaled on his throbbing manhood.

He lifts my shirt, and his mouth finds my nipple.

He sucks hard, and I arch into it. For some reason, riding him in this position has me feeling more in touch with my sexuality than I’ve ever felt.

I grind down on him, my butt against his muscular thighs as he pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it aside.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous,” he tells me, caressing every inch of me. “And you’re going to look even hotter when you’re pregnant.”

My eyes flutter closed. I can’t handle it. He’s just too manly, too sexy, too much . And to top it off, he doesn’t take things slowly. He picks up the pace, pounding me faster, using his hands to press my hips down into his thrusts. It’s almost too much to bear.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart,” he pants. “So sweet. How do you do this to me?”

I grip his shoulders hard as my head lolls back. His praise overwhelms me. All I can do is hang on for dear life as he pounds into me, relentless, like a man possessed. My body sparks like a firework display on the verge of exploding, a buzzing, electric sensation sizzling down my spine.

He whispers more filthy things into my ear, amplifying the sensations racing through me. He tells me how I was made for him, how we were made for each other, how I’m a goddess driving him to the edge of explosion. And all I can do is bathe in the glory of his words.

“I’m not gonna be able to hold out,” he tells me. “You just feel too good.”

That makes two of us.

I mewl his name, “Nash,” as I go off. My thighs clench down, and I sit down onto him so deep that there’s none of his cock that isn’t buried inside me. My body twitches as my orgasm tears through me, and he follows instantly after.

“Grace,” he groans, growling my name like a prayer.

We cling to each other, wrapped in ecstasy, as the aftershocks roll through us. I guess it’s what they call “a quickie,” but for me, it was a lifetime of bliss.

He kisses me gently on the neck, then on the lips, then on my cheek and whispers, “I hope you get used to this, Grace. Because I’m not slowing down until your stomach is growing with my baby inside you.”

I melt and nod, press my forehead against his.

“Yes, Daddy,” I say. It just feels so natural. So right.

Everything about him is so right.