I raise my hand to the side of her face, flush with need and arousal now. I trace a finger up her jawline, past her neck, and take a handful of hair hostage. My other hand rests at her waist for leverage.
“Ride me. Don’t hold back.”
Her eyes snap closed. Her head falls back. Her hands press down on my abs, and she begins to do exactly as I say. Rocking as I lift her body, curving her torso as I ruthlessly drag her down my cock until I’m balls deep inside of her hot, tight pussy, clenching me harder, picking up the pace each time. We’re slick with sweat, hot and rough, so close to coming that I lift and pull one breast into my mouth.
“Come for me,” I order her against her nipple.
With that demand, she obeys. Her entire body shakes, her legs tremble, knees so wide that I can feel her inner thighs on my balls as she cries out through her orgasm.
“Yes, Belle,” I growl and flip her under me again, losing no momentum as I pound deep into her. “That’s it.”
I don’t stop claiming every fucking inch of her sweetness, over and over, until one rough, heavy thrust takes me past my limit and I come hard. I let her tightness milk me. Every drop of my seed spills so deep inside of her, if she wasn’t already pregnant, I have no doubt that I’d knock her up. Lowering to her body, I cover her with my heat and hold her as we gasp for fresh air in our lungs.
“I’m just getting started,” I whisper to her. “You want this beast to be rough, and fuck, I’ll give you all of that and more.”
She pants out a laugh and holds me tight, ready and waiting for me to take her one more time.
Epilogue - Isabelle
Two and a Half Months Later on Thanksgiving
I’m close to five months pregnant. I’m huge.
Knox and I are over at my Mom and Dad’s place for Thanksgiving weekend. I dragged him here and joked that he was my pawn this time—payback from Independence Day weekend.
He doesn’t mind the reference too much anymore. His grandfather passed away about a month ago. Right after it happened, Knox was so broken up, and deeply sensitive about a lot of things. From the outside looking in, some would think that losing his grandfather was heartbreaking, another blow to his loss and grief. But from where I was standing, the loss healed a part of Knox.
Near the end, when Knox and I stood at his grandfather’s side, the sweet old man took the last of his strength, reached out to us both, and joined Knox’s and my hands together. I didn’t understand what he whispered, but Knox explained later that his last wish was for us to hold on to each other’s hand, right to the very end. I’ve never heard of a sweeter, kinder last wish.
For a while after his passing, Knox would become silent and distant a lot. But one thing made him shake out of his mood. Seeing me. And the reminder that there’s three of us now in the equation. Now, with some time passed and my growing belly, he thinks of that weekend more fondly.
The four of us sit at the dinner table, three of them drinking coffee, and I’m sipping on water after having had dessert. Mom and Dad are on one side of the large mahogany table, Knox and I on the other. The turkey was a little overdone, but overall, we had a lovely meal.
I’m bombarded by the usual question about my pregnancy, my eating habits, on whether I need help with the nursery, and of course, Dad brings up the question of whether his grandbaby will be born to married parents. Marriage makes me uneasy. It’s only been a few months since Knox and I patched things up. We need time to get used to the idea. Heck, we need time to adjust to the fact that in less than five months, we’re going to be parents.
But a few things between us are rock solid.
We’re close.
We’re open and honest.
We’re insanely attracted to each other.
The L word has not come up, but I know he loves me and his unborn child deeply. His devotion to us is as clear as day, and although he’s not a big talker, he makes it his mission to show that to me every chance he gets. And shutting me out, it’s off the table. After teasing him that both Bethany and I will show up unannounced on his ass if he ever does that again, he promised it’s a moot point now. So far, he’s been true to his word, and I prefer to focus on the next ten years, not the past.
After dinner, we take a walk around the block to get some air. I enjoy the crisp cool late autumn. It’s one of my favorite times of year, and beats carrying a baby during the heat of summer.
Taking a deep, long inhale, I walk beside him, and smile when he puts an arm around my waist, cradling the side of my belly protectively with his widened palm, and takes my gloved hand with the other.
I rest my head on his shoulder and enjoy the comfortable silence between us.
“When’s your next ultrasound?” he asks.
“In a few weeks. Want to join me?”
“I’d like that. Do you plan to ask if the kid is a girl or boy?”
“I hadn’t thought of it, but yes, that’s fine with me. It’d be nice to shop for more than just neutral yellows and greens and white.”
“Good. If it’s a boy, I’d like his first
