Page 57 of Into the Dark
Jake’s baby.
God. I’m having Jake’s baby.
He positions himself behind me again and raises my leg to slowly enter me from behind. He’s deep like this. So deep all other thoughts drop out of my head and I groan in pleasure at the sensation of him filling me. The position is new for me, so deep and intimate, so insanely erotic. One of his arms supports my head, the other wrapped tightly around my waist to pull me close to him as he thrusts deep and slow. When he pulls back out, his fingers dip between my legs again, and he strokes me once more while pushing his cock back inside me.
“So good…oh my god…” I pant, pushing back to take him deeper still.
He groans low in his throat, moving his mouth back to my ear.
“Mmm… I told you, you should never have given me that fucking key, baby.” He chuckles at his own joke.
The skin of my neck prickles, but I’m not sure if it’s the rough length of his beard or the rough tone from his throat that brushes against it.
“It might be the best thing I ever did,” I manage as he thrusts in deep again.
Thrust. Stroke. Kiss. Lick. God.
He repeats this for what seems like hours. This perfect, slow, delicious torture of his. Edging me. Dragging me to the point of orgasm before slowing down, circling his hips, and building up speed again. All the while he growls deeply against my ear. He fingers me softly, his fingers moving up over my stomach and breasts, which he massages gently, before crawling back down again between my legs.
The feeling of his hand moving over my stomach draws my attention back and forth from there to him and back.
Soon, the overload of sensation from his hands and mouth and fingers gets too much. I come hard, almost violently, my body shuddering around him as his tongue laps at my neck and his teeth continue to bite at my damp, hot skin.
Then, finally, I feel his own climax move through him. As usual, it comes with erotic curses that heat my blood and extend my pleasure further. He’s the only man I know who can make swearing sound like the sweetest words of passion.
“Fuck, baby… ” he moans, the long, slow, powerful thrusts coursing through his body against mine. “You feel so good…so fucking good.” The sounds that come from his throat as he pours himself into me are hypnotic and lulling, and I feel boneless, like liquid, as I melt into him. “I love you…” he moans, pressing his mouth to my neck again, entwining our fingers as he continues to rock into me. “I love you so much…”
When our bodies and our breathing slow, I blink my eyes open again and gaze around us. All I can see as he strokes his fingers lazily back and forth across my stomach are the red and white roses scattered around my bedroom. He needs to know he doesn’t need romantic gestures. He needs to know he’s more than enough on his own. I don’t need romantic gestures when I have him.
As he bites softly into my shoulder again and whispers that he loves me again, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m keeping Jake’s child.
We lie in each other’s arms for a few minutes before he pulls out of my body and lifts himself off the bed to stroll gloriously naked through to the en suite.
“Your bath’s getting cold,” he shouts from inside.
“You ran me a bath already?” I spring up from the bed, not bothering to cover myself as I go to join him in the bathroom.
Again, I have to stifle a gasp. The flowers continue in here. A bouquet on the window and red and white petals scattered decoratively on the floor and in the bath. When I lift my head to gape at him he’s smiling at me, looking shy again, but sexy and just-fucked.
Yes, he’s more than enough of everything.
“This is…” I shake my head, lost for words entirely. “You are…” I cross over to where he’s standing and take his hands in mine as I stare up into the deep green depths of eyes. “This is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. You’re incredible, amazing.” I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Have I told you today that I love you?”
“Maybe.” He pretends to think about it. “Can’t be sure though, had a lot on today.” He smiles, lowering his mouth back to mine.
“I love you,” I murmur against the heat of his mouth. I’m having your baby. You’re going to be a father again. I kiss him again to stop the words from tumbling from my mouth.
“The bath is what did it, isn’t it?” He nods, licking the taste of me from his lips.
“Well, you know I like a bath,” I say, partially squealing in excitement as I look down at the fragrant, steaming tub. When I dip my hand into it I find it still has plenty of heat. Meaning he ran it just too hot to allow it to cool. Meaning he knows how to run a bath.
The bath is delightful, but I’m only in it for a few minutes before I remember I’m bloody pregnant and a hot thirty-minute bath isn’t something I can enjoy anymore. I practically jump out and wrap the towel around me before I pull out the plug, watching longingly as the hot, fragrant water drains slowly away. I take my time drying and moisturizing and looking at myself in the mirror while Jake bangs around in the kitchen downstairs. When I think I’ve been up here for a significantly convincing amount of time, I head down.
I stop inside the kitchen door and try to suppress a grin. The kitchen is immaculate. He actually cleans as he goes? I fall a little more in love with him right then. He has the table set—with mismatched cutlery and glasses that only make his efforts cuter somehow—wine and water and a vase of roses, of course, in the center of my dining table.
“Christ, I feel like it’s my birthday today,” I say, mildly startling him from whatever he’s doing on the hob.
“Nah. On your birthday we won’t be leaving the fucking bed wherever we are.” He carries an overflowing basket of bread, which he sets down in between our plates.