Page 212 of June First
I shut my eyes and throw my head back to the wall because if I keep watching her, I’m going to come. And it’s only been thirty seconds since she ripped off my belt and dropped to her knees in front of me. “Fuck, that feels good,” I practically hiss through my teeth. She replies with something like “mmm” and digs her fingernails into my ass.
Christ.
I realize guests are on the way over to celebrate June’s birthday in our tiny, cramped one-bedroom apartment and the cake might be burning, but I’m pretty certain the whole apartment could be burning and I still wouldn’t move from this spot.
June strokes the base as she tries to deep-throat me without gagging.
She gags.
And it’s so fucking hot.
Still gripping her hair as she sucks me, I give it a tug until her eyes lift up. She releases me with a pop, leaving my dick rock-hard and glistening as I pull her up to her feet, then march her backward toward the bed. As much as I’d love to finish in her mouth, I need to be inside her. She’s wearing a little black dress I’ve been wanting to strip her out of ever since she put it on thirty-one seconds ago.
She glances at the open bedroom door, then back to me. Her lashes flutter and her eyeshadow glints as she nibbles her lip. “We don’t have much time…”
“I promise it’ll be quick.” I waggle my eyebrows. Grinning, she hikes up her dress, and I bend her over the foot of the bed. As I slip inside from behind, I lean over and whisper against her ear, “I want to put a baby in you.”
Her gasp morphs into a needy cry when I push all the way inside, filling her completely, and start thrusting.
“Oh God, Brant…”
In and out.
“Do—do you really mean it…?”
Faster.
“Are y-you sure…?”
Harder.
I slam into her, the mattress squeaking, the headboard smacking against the wall in perfect time, likely pissing off our crotchety neighbor. Then I pull out of her for a second, flip her around, and link her legs around my waist. “I’m sure,” I grit out, sliding back home.
It’s probably not the smartest choice, but there’s nothing I want more.
We’ve only officially been together for a little under a year, even though it feels like a lifetime. Our apartment is not ideal for a growing family with its creaky wooden floors, an obnoxiously loud air conditioner, and a dollhouse-sized kitchen with the distinct charm of 1987. It’s dated and smells like the Chinese buffet down the street, but I’m still in love with all 610 square feet of it because it’s ours. We’ve laid roots here.
But the more those roots thrive and grow, the more seeds I want to plant.
Particularly one seed.
Sliding my hand up her belly, I picture it plump and swollen, filled with our beautiful child. “God, I want a baby with you, June.” I breathe out raggedly, slowing my pace and stroking her clit. She writhes and buckles beneath me, draping the back of her arm over her forehead, while her other hand squeezes the bedspread. “But I can wait.”
She unravels quickly, arching her back while she comes and crying out my name as I lean over her. I grip her by the hips and pump into her a few more times, seized by a violent orgasm, and I groan with satisfaction as I empty inside of her.
She’s on the pill, anyway.
It’s a moot point.
June catches her breath, her breasts heaving. One of them pokes out of her slip dress, and my hand glides up to palm it, tweaking her nipple as I bend down to kiss her. “I missed you.”
Her eyes blink open—her beautiful sky-blue eyes—and she gifts me with a magical smile. “Missed you more.”
“How much?” Pulling out of her, I tug her dress back down, then tuck myself into my boxers, hoping I have five minutes to freshen up before guests arrive.
“Over the rainbow and back again,” she says, lifting up on her elbows. Her hair is a mess. It’s infused with static and sticking up in a hundred different places.
I’m pretty sure we both look like we just rode each other hard.