No other words were exchanged. We didn’t need them. Not when we could touch, crash, pillage. His arms banded beneath my ass, lifting me up so we were even, face to face. He paused once, inhaled, looked me over. Then his mouth was on my neck, burning a path across my sensitive skin, and my hands were everywhere—his thick hair, angular jaw and cheeks, shoulders and arms that were strong enough to lift me and our child. This was the first time I was touching him this way, completely sober and present, and I couldn’t get enough of his skin under mine.
His length pulsed between my folds, hard and thick. As he kissed me, touched me, breathed me in, he became impossibly harder, longer, and irresistible. When his lips latched around my pebbled nipple, lightning bolts shot from the sky, down my spine, scorching me between my legs. My pelvis tilted, hips rolled, and Mo’s cock slid against my clit. Again and again, I repeated the movement. One shockwave built on top of the next, and each time, my panting and gasping became louder, more desperate, and completely out of control.
He had barely touched me, but that didn’t seem to matter. Logic had never been part of us. We responded to each other in a way that seemed predestined. Not that he was made for me, but like we were two opposites, and instead of clashing or being repelled by one another, our different pieces fit until we were latched together.
I could have cried from how badly I needed him to fill me. Only him. Every other man in the world had ceased to exist for me. They were blank walls, even the most attractive of the lot. He was the one I saw in bright, glowing colors.
We were moving through the water, and I clung to Mo, kissing his jaw and neck with each step he took. His hands on my ass flexed, and one slid between my ass cheeks to my pussy. As he carried me out of the pool, two fingers slipped inside me, plunging deep. My head fell back, and I saw stars as I came around his fingers immediately. He held me through it, as I bucked, cried, writhed, went wild. Every nerve-ending in my body was alight, each small touch making me want to scream my throat raw.
Mo sat down on one of the padded lounge chairs with me straddling his lap. There was no hesitation between us. He positioned his cock just as I lifted to take him. My thigh muscles quivered as I lowered myself again, full of Moses this time. I slid down his length slowly, bracing myself on his shoulders, which were capable of moving mountains.
Mo’s fingers dug into my ass, his jaw tense, as he maintained eye contact my entire journey down his cock. And when I was full of him, so full I could barely breathe, my head fell back, and his mouth latched onto my throat, sucking, biting, kissing me until I was breathinghim.
“Jesus Christ, I need you to move,” he ground out through a clenched jaw.
I rolled my hips experimentally. My body was changed, and even though I hadn’t gained much weight, I felt heavier and unbalanced. I needed to get used to this new body, to how it moved, how much it could take. And Mo let me, staying patient and still as I started to ride him, finding my rhythm.
“You’re so sexy, Michaela.” One hand cupped my breast, his thumb brushing the tight peak over and over. “Tell me how gentle I need to be. Tell me what you need.”
I shook my head. “No, the last thing I need is gentle. I want you to fuck me, Moses. I need it so bad.”
He pulsed inside me and groaned for so long, I was afraid he was about to come. But no, that was the sound of the beast inside him being unleashed. Once I gave him permission, he held me not like I was breakable, but like a woman he’d been dying to fuck. His hands were all over me, kneading my tits, fisting my hair to ravage my throat, finally landing on my hips.
He drove into me again and again, pressing me down on his cock until I screamed. He kept going, taking, taking, taking—and I met him, taking what I needed too. My nails scored those shoulders I admired so much, and my teeth nipped at his lips until I nearly tasted copper.
The tension, anger, resentment we both held exploded and morphed into desire. Together, we were rolling hills and booming dynamite, changing the terrain ofusinto something different. Unrecognizable, but hopefully better.
Gripping the back of my neck and base of my spine, he tipped me back, driving into me with more force. All I could do was let him have me. He grunted, and our skin slapped. I panted, and my pussy clenched. I said his name, and he answered back with mine. My nails clawed. His fingers pressed. Over and over, Mo pushed our bodies together and apart until I was shaking, crying, yelling. My belly tightened, my limbs loosened, and I let go, joining the stars in the Miami sky.
Mo pulled me against his chest, slowing, but staying so deep. My channel was tender and hypersensitive, each pass of his length against my dancing nerves made me shiver and cling. Face buried in my neck, panting, kissing, blooming goosebumps on my skin.
“Keep...keep doing that. I’m going to come again,” I managed to say.
I didn’t even know what he was doing, but the angle he held me was perfect. I’d never come so much with a man in my life, and here I was, readying for another orgasm.
“Baby,” he grunted. “I can’t hold out much longer.”
“I know, I know, I know.” His muscles quivered under my fingers. He was working so hard for me, giving me all I needed, and I wanted to give him what he needed too. “Let go, baby. I want you to.”
Fingers tangling in my hair, he yanked my head back to meet my eyes. There were galaxies in his irises, and they were aflame. I rocked, pushed, squeezed, telling him he could let go, telling him how amazing he was, how amazing he made me feel. Pleasure that looked like pain crossed his face, and he stilled, letting out a deep bellow and painting my inner walls warm. It was enough to send me over one more time, coming with him.
When my body finally stopped clenching and clawing, I slumped onto Mo’s chest and breathed a long, satisfied sigh. He held me close, skimming his fingertips over the ridges of my spine and along my ribs and hips. We were quiet, trying to catch our breath. The ocean roared in the distance, lapping at the shore until it stopped resisting and let itself be pulled away.
Eventually, Mo slid out and carried me inside. We took a quick shower, kissing each other and washing ourselves, then we got into our pajamas and flopped on the big bed.
“Pizza!” I broke off a piece that had gone cold, but was no less appetizing, and stuffed it in my mouth.
Mo laid on his side, chuckling as he watched me. “You kill me.”
“All the food,” I said around a mouthful. “I’m hungry again.”
His expression sobered after a minute. “Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No, I promise. I’d tell you if it was too much.”
He seemed dubious. “This isn’t like the heavy table?”
“No. Dr. Gupta assured me sex was healthy and safe.”
He frowned. “You asked about sex?”
“I asked every question ever at my first appointment.” I stretched out on my side in front of him, touching his jaw and neck. “I didn’t want sex then. And now, I want it all the time, but the thing is, I can’t imagine having it with anyone but you. I don’twantto have it with anyone but you.”
He exhaled and twirled one of my curls around his finger. “I’m happy to be of service, Mic.”
Smiling, I melted into him, and like always, he wrapped around me. “My burrow,” I murmured.
“Always,” he murmured back.
We laid there on our sides, quietly talking, stroking, touching, until the ocean breeze and the crazy sex and the warmth of each other became too much and sleep won the battle against heavy eyelids.