Page 83 of Fearless Bond

“I just thought I could make love to my mate here in the sun.”

“Excellent idea.”

He tugged my pants down my legs, and I sat astride his hips, leaning with my back against his chest. He helped me move, supporting my thighs, and I rocked on his cock, stroking my stomach. Two orgasms later, I got too mellow to ride him anymore.

On my hands and knees, my pregnant stomach weighing me down, I could come the hardest, and Barclay knew that. Hethrust into me relentlessly, telling me how much he loved my body, how he couldn’t wait to taste my milk, and how he’d fuck me hard until he made me go into labor. It felt a little dirty and absolutely marvelous.

Nine months pregnant

Hunter had assured me that a home birth was perfectly safe for a shifter mate. He would be on call, ten minutes away if needed, and Barclay knew what to do.

Ten days before the due date, I said goodbye to the kids at the daycare. Barclay would be with me twenty-four-seven until our baby was born. We had nothing adventurous planned except for short walks in the forest near our home and car trips for groceries. And we would make love. A lot.

I was fascinated by how much sex my pregnant body craved. I loved sucking Barclay off, eating his cum, then taking his fist into my hole. We did that almost every day. Riding him was nearly impossible for me—with how big I was, I could merely sit on his cock and rock back and forth, but the pressure on the mouth to my womb was heavenly.

Six days before the due date, Barclay fucked me on my knees before the fireplace. It had been raining all day, so we’d lit it even though it was the middle of the summer.

Bending over me and supporting my stomach, he thrust deep, and a searing pleasure spread from the sealed gate to my womb. The climax made it throb. It felt incredibly satisfying in a strange, new way, and I strained to keep him there. The pleasure came in waves, tightening my core. When he pulled out only halfway, I keened with frustration.

“Stay deep! I need you… Deep!”

“I got you, love.”

He gave me small thrusts, nestled in me to the hilt, and I shivered with climax after climax. Tension chased relief, crested, only to dissolve into pleasure again.

And then… the mouth to my womb gave way.

A wave of sheer ecstasy crashed over me, and I shouted so loud, I must have scared Barclay.

“Calvin? Calvin!”

He pulled out on a gush of liquid.

“I think my water broke,” I managed before a contraction stole my breath.

Then it went fast. Really fast. I’d heard all these stories about omegas going through labor for twenty-four hours or even longer.

Not me.

My contractions must have started while we were having sex; I just hadn’t realized because the tensing only made me come harder.

Barclay wanted to carry me to the bedroom where everything was prepared—supplies, towels, and blankets neatly folded in the closet—but I couldn’t move. The second contraction came right after the first.

I remained on all fours, my need to push too strong already.

“He’s coming, Barclay.”

“But…”

“He’s coming now!” I wailed on the next contraction. I had to push. Had to.

Barclay swore. I felt his hands on my ass.

“You’re… you’re… giving birth.”

“Yes!” I shrieked. “Bring the stuff!”

His stomps echoed through the house. I clawed at the carpet and went through two more contractions before he returned.

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