“No, get up here,” I beg. “I need you. Hard and fast.”
“Got somewhere to be?” Bo says, his mouth hovering above my clit, his proximity teasing me. His eyes flick up to me, darkened and full of lust. I subconsciously twist my hips, rising to meet him. But then I remember I actually do have somewhere to be.
“Yeah,” I reply breathlessly. “The appointment you made…”
“Oh, the stroller testing?” he asks, kissing the inside of my thigh.
“Yeah,” I say, giggling as he tickles my leg with his beard. “Stop,” I whine.
“You could be a little late,” he argues before swiping his tongue up my slit. He hums as he presses his mouth against me, sending a shudder up my spine.
I sit up and watch as his eyes roll back into his skull before they close tight.
“And you’re supposed to be working right now,” I say, running my hand through his hair.
He flicks me with his tongue, flashing his teeth as he smiles up at me. “I am trying to do some of my best work.”
I move myself farther up the bed, away from him. “Please,” I ask nicely. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you. I want… I want it rough.” I move onto my knees in the centre of the bed, removing my T-shirt.
Bo stands, unfastening the buttons of his jeans before pulling them off and tossing them aside. “Fine, have it your way.” He takes a step toward me, his smirk crooked and his eyes deadly as he holds out his arms. “C’mere, honey,” he says, his voice arrogant as he crooks his fingers for me to follow.
“Can—Can we?” I ask, biting my bottom lip. I know that Bo’s a lot more comfortable on his feet since he got his new prosthesis, but we haven’t tried to have sex standing up yet. Plus, I’m not exactly as light as I once was now that I’m in my third trimester.
“Let’s find out,” he says, shrugging a shoulder as he leans over the bed, attempting to pull me to him.
“Don’t drop me,” I say, crawling toward him enthusiastically. Bo picks me up effortlessly, and I curl myself around him, my legs hooked over his hips and my arms around his neck. He then takes a few steps backward as we kiss, turning us as we go so my back hits the wall with a perfect amount of force.
Once balanced, he grinds into me, and I gasp, overcome with a heady need for him. I reach between us, tugging my panties aside, then cup him through his boxers. I work him over with my hand, feeling him harden and twitch underneath me. All the while, his kisses are on my face, neck, and shoulder. I’m growing impatient and damn near furious at the thin layer of cotton separating me from what I want.
I throw my arm back around Bo’s shoulder and tighten my grip to hold myself up. “Take it off now.”
Bo nods, removing his face from my neck for half a second before his boxers hit the floor and his hands are back on my thighs, lifting me back up his body and into position.
“Are you ready for me, honey?” he asks, holding my pussy so close above him that I literally begin shuddering with anticipation.
He tilts his hips, notching himself against my entrance. I whimper pathetically, begging for him.
“I said, are you ready for me? Because I don’t plan on being gentle with you.”
“Yes, yes, I’m ready. Please,” I reply, my eyes screwed tight, waiting for him.
“Look at me,” he commands. “Eyes open.”
I open my eyes, but they’re heavy, just like my breathing. “Please,” I whisper, licking my lips. “Stop it,” I whine when he teases me again.
“Tell me you want the bathtub,” he says, his face hardened. “Tell me you love it.”
I open my mouth to speak, but only a gasp escapes as he lowers me, angled so I press up against his hardness. Blissful in and of itself, but not what I want. Not him inside me.
“Bo…” I whisper, rubbing myself against him.
“I know you’re not used to it, but so long as I’m around, I’ll be looking after you,” he says, voice low and gruff. “I consider it my job and my privilege from now on. You want things to be fair? So do I. Trust me that I know what’s fair. Trust me to look after you, Win. Trust me to take care of you the way I need to.”
He lifts me up, then tilts into me, filling me so completely it takes my breath away.
“Tell me.” He groans into my neck as my head falls back against the wall. “Tell me who’s going to take care of you,” he says, his mouth pressed to the side of my cheek.
“You,” I say through heavy breaths. “You are.” I move my hand to his face, turning his cheek to kiss me. Bo pulls out of me, hoists me up, then hooks his arms under the backs of my knees, spreading my thighs wider for his hips to slot between.
“Hold on to me, honey,” he says, pushing himself into me slowly.
“Fuck…” I groan, my teeth finding my bottom lip. “Yes,” I whimper with every delicious inch of him sliding in.
“Remember,” Bo says between grunts of effort, or maybe restraint, “if they’re going to hear us, let them hear my name. Tell them”—he groans, his teeth at my jaw—“who’s taking care of you.”
I bite my lip to the point where I’m sure I could draw blood as Bo begins relentlessly pounding into me, hitting the spot deep inside that feels almost too good.
“Fuck,” I cry out, the sound muffled by his neck. My skin is heating and blushing all over. I’m embarrassed but equally exhilarated to know we might just be heard. I bite into his shoulder, using him to mute the sounds of pleasure threatening to pour out.
Bo grunts, holding me to him and stepping to the right. With one hand wrapped around my thigh, he uses the other arm to swipe off the dresser. A dozen items clatter to the floor, but neither of us cares.
Bo drops me onto the hard surface, my back falling against the wall on impact. He tilts his hips up and away, agonisingly slow, his eyes darkened and held on where we’re joined, with one hand under my knee, holding me open for him.
Then he surprises me.
Bo covers my mouth with his free hand forcefully, pushing the back of my head into the wall. His hooded eyes find my shocked ones, and he waits for my signal.
I nod. Saying, silently: yes, sir.
“You don’t want them to hear?” he asks, leaning in so close my eyes have to widen to see him. I shake my head no. “Okay,” he says, his hand flexing over my face. “I’ve got you,” he says, removing himself fully. “Hold on, princess.”
Bo starts fucking me so hard that even more items clatter to the floor, the dresser hitting the wall in time with each thrust. His voice is strained next to my ear as he praises me. A soliloquy filled with the filthiest phrases. Good girl. You take me so well. Your pussy is perfect. You’re so fucking perfect. I love you.
From Bo’s lips, I consider it all to be poetry. Praises so beautiful and genuine and earnest that I collect each of them and lock them away inside my chest.
My toes curl as my pleasure builds like a windstorm inside my belly. The look of intensity on Bo’s face as he uses my body fills me with deep, aching lust. Without warning, he removes his hand from my mouth and moves it to my hip, gripping my flesh as he pistons into me.