“Then marry me,” he says against my lips.
He’s asked me three times since we got back together. On Christmas Day morning, out on a random bike ride, and when he took me back to Malham where we camped late last summer. Each time I say no. Not because I don’t love him, because I absolutely do. And every day that passes, I think I love him even more, it’s just… with him, I don’t need the ring. I don’t need the fancy wedding or the piece of paper that says we love each other. I just need him.
Plus, I’ve had the other stuff before and look how that panned out.
But he wants to give me all of that—wants to do it right. One day, maybe, but for now, I like what we have. That and I’ve said no so many times, it’s becoming a bit of a running joke between us.
Warm waves of bliss blanket my body as he nips at my neck, waiting for me to speak. I spy the back of the sofa, suddenly wanting him to do as he said. “Dean,” I whisper.
He hums against my skin.
“Tell me what I’mthinking.”
His eyes are blazing as he pulls back to look at me, his erection against my front hard to ignore. He slowly trails one hand from where it rests on my hip and slips it past the top of my leggings, into my knickers.
The tip of his finger against my skin makes my breath hitch. I keep my eyes on his, feeling a wave of arousal flutter through me. Tipping my head back, he moves his hand, brushing through the thin strip of hair between my legs. “Dean,” I whisper.
He smiles. “You’re thinking,” he starts, as he pushes one finger inside me gently.
My arms are still wrapped around his neck, and my mouth opens as he dips closer to me, lightly grazing his lips over mine, the tickle of his short beard making the hairs on my arms stand to attention.
“You’re considering saying yes to marrying me.”
I smile wide forcing him to do the same.
“But first, you want me to bend you over the sofa and fuck you.” He slides another finger into my pussy, making me moan.
He’s right. I want him to have his way with me. My hold on him tightens, and I can’t help closing my eyes as my body clenches around him.
“You want that, babe?” he asks. He curls his fingers as his thumb starts circling my clit.
Jesus. “Yes, VP.” My voice is doused in want. I’m hot and growing needier by the second.
“Tell me exactly what you want, Mads.”
I whimper again. The pleasure I feel is immediate whenever he touches me like this. Now that I’m in my second trimester, if I’m not wanting to eat everything in sight, I want the man I love to worship my body.
Because he does it so well.
Another finger slides in, and I close my eyes as he stretchesme, preparing me for what he’s about to do next. Christ alive my mouth is dry as I enjoy the way he’s waking up my body with his hand. “Yes,” I pant, “I want you to love me, VP.”
He smiles against my neck before he carefully spins me. Walking me forwards, my shins hit the sofa, but he doesn’t stop moving. I have no choice but to lift my legs up to kneel on the cushions in front of me.
He caresses my bum before he gives it a light smack.
I smile at him.
Pulling my leggings over my bump and down to my knees, he trails his hand between my legs to the front of my knickers. He moves the material to one side, slipping one finger inside me again.
He moans, and my mouth opens as he circles deep, a buzz of pleasure warming my body from within. I’m craving what’s about to come. “Dean,” I beg needily.
He grips the bottom of my jumper, and I lift my arms for him to take it off. He lifts it above my head, throwing it to the floor before he unhooks my bra, freeing my rock hard nipples.
“My girl,” he purrs. “I love your body. So, fucking beautiful.” He cups my exposed, now larger breasts and kisses my neck.
I lift my arms up, arching my back, wrapping them around his neck behind me. I can feel his arousal pushing against me.
Moving his hands from my breasts, he undoes the fly of his jeans and slides my knickers to one side. He lines himself up, and I lean forward resting my hands on the back of the sofa, bending my body in front of him.