Page 40 of Twin Babies For The Grump

The press into her is just as warm and welcoming as it has ever been, her body shifting and stretching around me. Tess groans, her whole face turning a ruddy shade of red as she flushes, shifting closer to me.

I grip her by the hips and pull her forward until I’m fully sheathed inside of her. Her fingers scratch at the back of my neck, her words goading me on; soft chants that are almost desperate to have me hitching forward—they only stop when they break off into high-keening moans.

There’s something about Tess that’s like a drug.

You know, when your life is good but its’ empty. It’s missing something. And then you find that missingsomethingand you realize that it was exactly what you needed. That’s what being with Tess feels like.

Fate wanted us to be together, and now they’ve given me a kid. I want this. I want this life with her.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” I tell her, wrapping one arm around the small of her back and holding her steady, so she doesn’t slide backward onto the counter again, even as I set up a steadier pace. The sound of skin on skin is loud in the otherwise empty kitchen.

But it’s not nearly as loud as Tess when she practically begs me, “Owen, fuck, please— More, I need— It’s not enough!”

I know exactly what she means. It’s good, but it’s notenough.

I slide out of her, ignoring the desperate, low-keening whine that she makes, and pull her off the counter. The moment that her feet hit the floor, I twist her around, push her down by the shoulder, and press back in.

Her arms stretch out over the counter, palms flat against the smooth marble surface. Tess groans low in her throat, “Oh, yeah, that’sso muchbetter, just like that.”

I relish in the new angle, in the way that her silken walls feel around me, the wetness, the heat, the way that it’s so easy to lose myself in her. One hand stays between her shoulder blades, keeping her upper body down flat against the top of the counter.

The other grips at her hip, tightly enough that my nails bite in ever so slightly. I shift, fucking into her as hard and as fast as I can, letting her feel me the same way that I can feel her.

I lean forward, bracing more of my weight against her back. “God, you are so fucking good. Giving me a kid, taking me just the way I like it.”

Tess moans, shifting back against me. Her back tries to arch up, but I lean down harder against her, settling my weight more solidly on her form. My lips press to the sweaty expanse of her back but just for a moment.

Then I’m shifting my weight a second time so that I can slide my hand from her hip to her lower belly, and then down to pinch and pull at her clit. The little nub of nerves is taut and slick beneath my fingers, liquid spilling over them.

Tess’s breath catches, her body going tight as orgasm takes her. For a moment, the pressure is so intense, I can’t do anything but press deep and pinch at her clit—but the moment that she starts to go slack against the counter, I roll my hips again, chasing after my own release.

I can feel sweat dripping down the back of my neck, dampening the shirt that I’m still wearing. Her breath is rough and panting beneath me, my own sharp and short.

Pressure is pulling tight through my spine, and heat beneath my skin. I’m right there on the edge. I pull out, taking hold of my cock. I keep one hand on her back, pinning her down even as I jack myself off.

My palm slides slickly over my shaft, thumb passing over my seeping head. Tess’s cum clings to my luridly hot skin, only further helping the smooth slip of flesh and flesh.

And the moment that I feel it getting close, I press back into her, as deep as I can get. My orgasm is a deep-rooted thing, rising up from the very base of my spine and curling out over my flesh, filling her; and I can’t help but think that she’s already going to have my kid, that I wouldn’t mind if she has more than one.

This distant temptation of knocking her up a second time because of the sensation of her pussy thick with my cum is so intoxicating. I never want to lose it. Rolling my hips, I brace myself against her back, leaning against her as my heartbeat settles into something slower, and as my breath settles, too.

My cock goes soft inside of her, but I still don’t pull out, not yet. I’m relishing in the way it feels, so wet and used. My lips press to the curve of her back, mouthing at her skin.

“Owen,” says Tess, shifting a little. “My tits are getting crushed here.”

I chuckle against her before finally pulling out of her and stepping backward. I give her a hand and help her to her feet. Tess turns around and leans against me, tilting her head back so she can look up at me.

“Alright, you took that better than I thought you would,” she says, with something that’s almost a laugh.

“There’s no way I could have taken it badly.” My free hand passes over her face, the side of her neck, sweeping the hair away from her flushed, damp skin. “You look like you could use a shower.”

“I won’t complain about it, no,” says Tess, but she seems surprised when I slip an arm underneath her thighs and scoop her up, bridal style. “What are you doing?”

She can’t seem to stop laughing.

“Taking you to the shower,” I tell her, carrying her out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, where the big shower is waiting for us. “Pretty sure we just discussed that.”

“You didn’t have to pick me up,” scolds Tess, with a swat to my chest.

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