Shark chuckles. “Trust me. That’s the opposite of what happens when I look at you. Naked or otherwise.”
“Are you sure? If you get turned off after seeing my big belly, I’ll…I’ll lose it.”
“Is that the only reason you asked for the dress to remain over your belly?”
I nod.
“Stop catastrophizing, Troy,” he says in a firm, authoritative tone that surprises me. “Be like the river and flow in the present. You have no business worrying about what might happen in the near future, and even if you did the what-if game, you can’t control me or what I’ll do. Now, take off your dress and climb over my face.”
Shark scoots up on the mattress and removes the rest of his clothes. He tucks a pillow under his head. “Did you hear what I said?” he asks when I don’t move over him.
“I heard.”
“Why are you still standing there?”
I slip out of the dress and watch the heat flare in his brown eyes. He really is turned on by me.
Perhaps after all the fear for my and my baby’s future, God delivered this man to the deck and let him loose on me. Shark spared my life. It wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate. A professional like him doesn’t miss at close range.
I climb over Shark’s beautiful hairless body, stopping by his erection and kissing the tip of it. It evokes a hiss from him, so I lick the length of his cock. Shark hisses again, and I squeeze the base of his dick.
“No, don’t,” he says.
“Now I have to.”
“Later,” he says and hauls me up and over his face. He pulls me down to sit on his mouth, then locks his hands over my thighs so I can’t move while he moves his head in a way that tells me he’s not playing around about eating me out. He’s really going to eat me like I’m a nice, soft, warm pumpkin pie.
He laps at my entrance before pressing his stubbled jaw against it and shaking his head, all while his tongue licks my clit.
I can’t ride his face. Shark’s locked me into position like he would his sniper rifle on the target. Now, he’s loading me up, preparing me to shoot all over this face. I grip the headboard as he’s growling, making sucking noises, and tongue-fucking me.
I moan loudly, and just when I’m ready to come, he lifts me off his face, slides out from under me, and before I know it, he’s behind me, his warm body folding over my much smaller one. I feel his cock at my entrance, his mouth on my shoulder, his fingers moving my hair aside so he can kiss my neck.
Gently, he pushes inside me. “You didn’t think I’d want you to give her up, did you? Not a chance. You are mine. And tomorrow, I’ll prove it to you. But tonight, you’ll be my good girl and push back and let me enter you, so I can be okay with fucking you. Because you’re not the only one who yearns for something normal.”
There. He said it. We’ve both gone through tough times, and his, I think, were worse than mine, and maybe that’s why we’re together now. So we can heal by joining our bodies and creating a new kind of memory that’ll pop up every time a bad one intrudes on our life.
I lean back so I can get more of him inside me, then start to move, gesturing how I want him to fuck me so that he can have that permission from me and from himself and maybe even the universe that’s brought us together.
He gathers my hair in a fist and tugs gently. My insides flutter at the subtle display of dominance. I like that he doesn’t treat me like cracked glass just waiting to shatter, even though sometimes I feel that way.
“We will come at the same time,” he says as he moves inside me. “You think you can do that?”
I nod, and since he’s holding my hair, it hurts.
I nod again and groan at the sensation.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he says. “Because life will test you.” A hand sneaks under my belly and holds it. It’s warm, large, masculine, and feels comforting.
“I’m close,” I tell him, because the fact he’s holding my belly is sending me over the edge.
“Hold on,” he says.
I bite my lip when he releases my hair so he’s free to stroke my clit.
“I can’t hold on,” I tell him. “I’m going to come.”
“Hold,” he repeats and starts to pound into me hard and fast.