Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

One finger passed between her cheeks and she shuddered. She’d enjoyed anal sex the few times she’d done it with previous lovers, but she and Max had never gotten around to it. While she was trying to get pregnant it wasn’t in the plan, then she’d been too sick or too tired. Anticipation rose, a tingling desire in her core. Max was very good at making everything else pleasurable for them both. Being with him physically—finding new ways to enjoy each other—that was as big a part of learning to trust as anything else, right?

When he grabbed a container from the floor, she had to tease. “Do I want to know why you have lube with you?”

“Hey, you’re not always around, but the thought of you always is. A guy’s got to be prepared.”

She closed her eyes, relaxing as he pressed in a single finger, gently working the lubricant deeper. Two fingers stretched her, then three. All the while he floated his other hand up to where her breasts hung, supported by the water. The deep need inside her grew as he fed the hunger with his caress until she shook. He removed his fingers and pressed the slick head of his cock against her.

Pressure, hard. Hot. Every inch burned with a delightful bite, nothing that she hadn’t experienced before, nothing she wanted to deny herself now. It was strangely comforting—with no concern about hurting the baby, she was once again a sexual creature and not a mom-to-be.

“That is so damn sexy, seeing you take me,” Max growled. His fingernails skittered over her cheeks as his groin rested tightly against her. She was full, completely stretched, a deep-seated necessity for…something…building rapidly.

“Move. Oh God, Max, move.”

He pulled back slowly, his fingers digging into her skin where he clutched her hips. He stopped before he would have separated their bodies and rocked forward so slowly she felt every single nerve as if it were hit with an individual beam of pleasure. One stroke after another, each time deep and complete. His balls hit her sex, and the tingle spread from her ass to her core. She braced herself on one arm, adjusting until she could free her other hand. The water had cooled slightly around her, warmer sections swirling as she slipped her fingers back to make contact with her clit. A hint of mischief encouraged her to reach farther to stroke his balls as he advanced and retreated.

“Minx.” He moaned, the sound loud and heavy in the room. Water swished, splashing against the sides of the tub with every movement.

Her arm lay tight against her belly, the awkward swell nearly forgotten until now as she took in all the sensual sensations—combined with the words from his lips as he praised her and turned up the heat. Max increased his momentum, enough that combined with the pressure on her clit, her orgasm triggered, her pussy and ass both squeezing tight, white-hot pleasure flamed. Delight raced over her, the adventure erotic and fulfilling at the same time.

Max shouted and shook, his hands quivering on her hips as he found his release.

It never got old, being with him. It was the only time she felt like they were completely and utterly worry-free. Their united future was easy to believe when they were tangled together in sexual satisfaction.

The edge of the tub was at the perfect height, and she rested her forehead on the smooth cool surface, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

Max took care of her. Washed her clean, cuddled her into a blanket even as he stood dripping.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to hide some towels and stuff here for any future…adventures.”

His hands were tender as he helped her dress.

“Let me take you home,” he whispered.

All through the blurry ride back to their apartment his words from so many months earlier echoed through her brain.

We are home.

Maybe. It was getting easier to believe.

“You nearly ready to go?” Tasha rounded the corner and stopped in dismay. He had all three of his linked computer screens active, and the entire surface of the desk covered with papers. “Max, we’re supposed to be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Damn. Just…give me a second.” He peeled himself away from the computer, stripping off his T-shirt en route to the bathroom. Tasha stood in the doorway, adjusting her stance to let the weight of the baby sit somewhere other than against her bladder.

This kid was far too interested in dancing on that part of her anatomy when it was the most awkward.

“You okay on going out tonight?” she asked.

“Of course. I got distracted for a bit.”

Tasha attempted to read his expression, wondering if it was her overactive imagination kicking in. Her old fears and worries were still too easily raised. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Three weeks to go until the baby arrived. While she’d managed to keep from gaining too much weight, she was certainly not a fit and fabulous twenty-something. Not even a fabulous thirty-year-old. She looked…pregnant. After a full day of work, and a few too many restless nights of sleep, she had begun to understand what the books and classes had warned about—losing energy for anything but the most basic of tasks.

She refused to slow down. Next week they got to move into their new house. There was so much to do to get ready, including the surprise she’d been keeping from him.

What if she curled up tonight with a book like she longed to? Maxwell would also ignore the summons from the family, and it would be another night of family activity he would have missed because of her.

Damn if she’d be the one to come between him and his family.

He soaked his entire head under the taps, popping up to rub his dark hair with a towel. The short strands stuck every direction and she smiled. Physically he was as intriguing to her as he’d been when they started this adventure. One more glance in the mirror, and doubt hit her hard. She was far more than the woman she’d been back then, and having him say he wanted this baby didn’t mean he’d been prepared for the changes in her body.

The kiss he pressed on her cheek was rushed and brief, and a flutter of apprehension assaulted her. Freaking pregnancy hormones. Tasha didn’t know if she was coming or going at times. Trying to figure out if she had a reason to be legitimately worried, or if it was just the pregnancy making her into a crazy woman was maddening. She kept it subdued on the ride over, not wanting to voice her concerns before what was supposed to be a fun and relaxing event.

They were only a few minutes late, and the teams hadn’t been chosen yet.

“Dibs on Tasha and Junior,” a couple of voices called simultaneously, laughter ringing through the room.

Max waved and bent to whisper in her ear. “I hope they know they’re getting a pair of slightly sleepy teammates.”

“Talk to your daughter,” she whispered back.

They grinned at each other and she made another vow to try and trust that he’d keep loving her. First, she had to survive the night.

When they stopped the game for a stretch break, people scattered to grab snacks and drink refills. Tasha heaved herself vertical, Max at her side as always.

“You want an elevator to help you with that?” someone joked. She held back her retort, not sure how a fuck off would be received. Laughter rose and she turned to spot Max deliberately aiming his middle finger at the funnyman and she had to smile.

“I’ve asked Max to design a levitation system.” More amusement surrounded them and he squeezed her fingers. There were times it was hard to remember people didn’t really mean any harm, and a light joke carried the unintended hurt off quickly.

She hightailed it for the bathroom, or as fast as she could now that her pelvic floor seemed to be made up of all baby, with no room for her legs to swing. In spite of promising to maintain her “take it with a sense of humor” policy, if anyone said one word about waddling, heads were going to roll.