"You cannot see your feet, my pretty mate," Dagesh tells me, amused. "Why would I expect you to pick things up off the floor?"
He's got a point. I rub my huge belly as he picks up the girls' carved toys and leather dolls and puts them away. I hate feeling helpless. I know he had a long day of hunting, and he's tired too, but he always takes care of me when he gets home, as if he's nothing but boundless energy. He's so damn dependable.
I never thought that would turn me on so much, but here we are.
"Come to bed," I tell him as he puts the last of the dishes on the stone counter. I pat the furs encouragingly.
My mate grins at me from over his shoulder, his long braid dancing against his lower back. He is a delicious snack, my man. Even after eight turns of the seasons of being mated, I still get deep-seated quivers in my vagina when he looks at me. If anything, he's grown sexier to me over time, because now I know that in addition to being a strong, dependable, tender and caring mate, he's also an amazing dad who helps me out with the housework and always makes time for the girls.
He does the dishes, even though I'm perfectly capable of doing them, and then pulls his boots off and crawls into the furs with me. Dagesh tugs me against him, tucking a pillow under my belly and spooning me from behind. His hand goes to my belly, rubbing the distended roundness of it. "How is our kit this day?"
"Big." I close my eyes, snuggling back against him. "Your hand feels good. Keep rubbing."
He does, sliding his fingers under my tunic and caressing my bare skin. "The hunt was good," he says, kissing my neck. "My traps were full today. I even caught a snowcat. I found it eating a hopper stuck in one of my snares and killed it before it could get away."
"That's wonderful. Is that why you were out so long today? Good hunting?"
Dagesh nods. "I put it all in a cache, but if you want the snowcat pelt, I will go and retrieve it."
"No rush. I've got plenty of pelts and the girls are working with scraps right now." I might ask Asha if she needs it at some point, but at the moment, the thought of yet another pelt to clean and take care of makes me want to run away screaming. His big hand scratches idly at the underside of my belly and my toes curl with bliss. "Oh man, that feels amazing. Why are you so awesome?"
"I have a mate that makes me better," he says, nipping at my ear. "But sometimes she is very, very naughty."
Hot lust floods through me. "Is she?"
Our sex life has morphed a little since the girls arrived. It's hard to get a nice, rowdy spanking in when little ears are sleeping on the other side of the hut. Most of our sex tends to be quieter, and if I need a bit of an edge to things, Dagesh holds me down. When we need more of a release, sometimes the girls have a “sleepover at Auntie Asha's hut” and then we get a more playful night in. Lately though, I've been so pregnant and miserable I haven't been in much of a playing mood.
It seems like Dagesh is, though, and that arouses me despite the discomfort of my ungainly body.
My mate lifts my hair off my neck and kisses my skin. "Yes. She has been very naughty for days now. I think she should be punished."
I quiver deep inside. "Lies," I whisper. "I'm a good girl and you know it."
Dagesh's teeth scrape against my skin, hard enough to make me gasp. He shifts his weight, getting up on one elbow, and when I crane my head around to look at him, he grabs a handful of my hair, pinning my head to the pillow. It always amazes me that even after all this time, he manages to find the perfect way to pull my hair that doesn't hurt, but is still firm enough to get me all turned on.
"What's your word?" he asks.
It's been a long time since either of us needed a word, but I suspect he's reminding me that it's okay to bail if I'm too tired. "Earth," I say breathless. "But I won't need it."
"Perhaps not." Dagesh leans in, his teeth scoring against my ear. His other hand pushes into my leggings, seeking out the heat between my thighs. He finds my clit and begins to rub. Not teasing, tender strokes but rougher, demanding ones that are just what I need. Air catches in my throat, and I have to bite back a moan as he works my body. He's determined to wring an orgasm from me, demanding that I come for him. It's so damned erotic—and it's been so many days since I've had (or wanted) a release like this that I come within moments, whimpering out his name as he wrings the orgasm out of me.