“Why are you pushing me today?” he asks, his lips brushing mine with each word, his eyes searching mine for something only he knows.
I clear my throat, suddenly dry as my heart kicks up in my chest. “I’m not pushing you. I’m hoping you’ll realize I adore you the way you are, and you’ll accept you deserve whatever pleasure we can give each other, no matter the circumstances.”
“You’re pregnant,” he says, lifting his lips now as if he’s realizing it all over again.
I scoff. “Sure, but I’m not suddenly going to break just because I’m growing a human inside me. Women all over the world do it every single day. It changes nothing about our sex life.”
Except it does. I can see it there in his eyes. With me pregnant, I’ve shifted forms from the wife he fucked ragged against his foyer wall to the woman carrying his child, his heir. Suddenly, my being pregnant doesn’t feel so much like a gift, but a barrier, another wall that can be erected between me and someone else.
I lift my legs to wrap them around his back and drag him into me harder. He can fucking try to hide behind that wall, but I won’t allow it. And I won’t allow him to change us when it suits whatever he has going on in his mind that he refuses to share.
Leaning up, I nip his chin, and at the same time, I curl my hands around to his shoulder blades, dig my nails in, and scrape them down his back hard enough to make him arch against me as if he could escape the pain while falling into it headfirst.
The noise he makes shoots straight through me, amping my own need even higher. “You want to fuck me so hard we both see stars, admit it,” I say against his chin while he focuses on his now unsteady breathing.
In this position, his cock slides along my body, the head nudging my clit just enough to send a bolt of pleasure through me. I try to rock up against him, but he won’t shift his hips or move at all.
No doubt in another battle for control over himself. I’m still not going to give him time to think about it.
I shift enough that I can slip my hand between our bodies, and it takes no effort to ruck upward and sheath him inside me. It happens before he even realizes what I’m doing, and his exhale comes out of him in a whoosh.
It’s like a switch is flipped in his mind. He shifts his weight onto one of his elbows, then brings his hand up to capture my neck, his fingers barely grazing the column. “You’re pushing me, Angel. If you don’t stop, I’m going to push back.”
I shift my hips upward, so he slides deeper into me. “Then push back.”
His hand tightens just barely, but then he sweeps it around to the back of my neck to control my head as his mouth comes down on mine. His kiss is brutal, hard enough that our teeth clash and scrape at my lips. His tongue sweeps in next, taking control, licking at my mouth until I’m panting with my need for him and causing my nails to dig into his back in earnest this time.
When he pulls his face away, I feel my heartbeat in my mouth, my lips tingling from the assault, and fucking hell, I want more.
I try to lean up to get another kiss, but he cups my neck from the back tighter, not allowing me to raise higher. “No. You pushed, and as you requested, it’s my turn to take control.” There’s a deep husky note to his voice that promises punishment. Finally.
Then he shifts back and slams inside me hard enough his cock hits my cervix. I let out a little, “Oh,” and his next thrust is a tiny bit gentler, leaving me gasping as I cling to him. With each new thrust, he wraps his arms tighter around me until he’s clutching me to his chest in a bear hug as he uses his abs to surge into my body.
The position shoots sparks along my nerve endings, and everything tingles. I’m so close to coming, but I need a little bit more friction. I wiggle in his grasp to sink down enough to change the angle. The next thrust hits me exactly where I need, and I groan right in his ear as he pounds me into the mattress.
“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes,” I say over and over against his neck.
He doesn’t lose his focus, not for a second. Not even when I tumble into my orgasm headfirst while screaming his name.
When I come back into my body, my limbs splayed across the bed, he is still wrapped around me, clutching me to him like a Renaissance sculpture.