The Baby Bump

by Tara Wylde

  “Easier, sure,” he says without releasing my nipple, “but then I won’t be able to watch you come, and that’s a view I have no intention of depriving myself of.”

  Before I can think of a response, Ryan starts kissing his way down my body. Not being able to see, to predict his next move, makes my body more sensitive than it was before, and I start to relax, to give myself over to the delicious sensations each brush of his lips triggers within me.

  I jump as he slips a hand between my thighs, not ready for that intimate of a touch, but then relax again, allowing him to part my legs.

  “Such a beautiful sight,” he murmurs.

  His fingers trace the seam created by my lower, feminine lips, teasing them apart. Before I can adjust to the strangeness of that touch, Ryan shifts, replacing his fingers with his mouth.

  My legs jerk as he finds my clit and circles it with his tongue, flicking back and forth, teasing it in the same way he teased my nipples. White hot, liquid heat floods the place his mouth resides.

  “God,” he gasps, “you taste even better than you look.”

  Behind the blindfold, I squeeze my eyes closed and savor the delicious sensations Ryan’s triggering. My hips rock back and forth, encouraging him to keep using his tongue on me as I feel an orgasm slowly starting to build.

  Something probes against my entrance, Ryan’s nail lightly scraping against the delicate flesh as he sinks first one, then the other finger, into the hole, filling and expanding me.

  My hips buck and my back arches. I feel Ryan’s lips bending into a smile as he catches my clit between his teeth and rolls it back and forth, while his fingers slowly and methodically continue fucking me.

  “Oh God!” The cry is ripped from me. “That feels … I can’t …” My breath comes in ragged gasps as I struggle to put what I’m feeling into words.

  “It’s okay, baby.” Ryan’s voice is garbled and tight with what I can only imagine is his desire. “Just ride it out…”

  Ryan’s free hand finds my right nipple. He catches it between two fingers, mimicking the actions of his teeth as he continues working my clit.

  My orgasm isn’t the intense, earth shattering experience one reads about in romance novels, but rather a gentle rolling experience that leaves me feeling strangely peaceful. When it ends, I sink back into the mattress, and focus on drawing one breath after another.

  Ryan doesn’t remove his finger, but he releases my clit and rests his chin on my pelvis. “Enjoyed that, didn’t you?” His voice is warm, like he’s smiling smugly.

  “Mmm,” I confirm. Just like the self-induced organisms I’ve created, this one leaves me feeling loose and relaxed. “Very nice. Thank you.” My limbs grow heavy, my body preparing for its post orgasm nap.

  Ryan pats my ass cheek with one hand as the fingers of the other jerk, the nails brushing against my g-spot. Startled, my legs scissor as my body nearly comes off the bed.

  “And just think…” Ryan kisses my lower belly. “We’re just getting started.”

  Lucy

  Ryan slowly pumps his fingers in and out of me. His head continues to rest against my lower belly. Every few strokes, he gives my clit a twirl, sending bursts of electrical energy racing through my body to an assortment of pleasure points that I didn’t know existed until Ryan joined me on this big, glorious bed.

  “Do you know,” he says, his voice sounding almost lazy as his fingers continue working their magic, “that I auditioned for the role of a man who owned this really elaborate sex club.” His words vibrate against my belly. “It was all very Fifty Shades of Grayish, but instead of just one woman, this character would have been working with an assortment of them, teaching each and every one of them the secrets of their bodies.”

  I grind my teeth together. Does he really expect me to carry on a conversation while his fingers are turning me into a quivering pile of jelly? Already, pressure is building within me, signaling that, thanks to his slow, almost lazy ministrations, another orgasm is coming my way.

  “Did you get the role?” I manage to gasp as I squirm against the bedspread.

  Ryan blows out a long sigh, his hot breath skating across my already overheated skin.

  “Sadly, no. But I learned a lot while prepping for the role. Including that to be ready to take a man’s cock, and I mean really ready, it takes some women a full half hour of intense foreplay.”

  I whimper. A full half hour of his hands on me? In me? Oh God!

  “So, what do you think?” For the first time since my orgasm, Ryan moves. Keeping his fingers buried deep within me, he slides up my body, kissing the sensitive skin where my neck and shoulder meet before moving higher and nipping my ear lobe. With his free hand, he checks the blindfold, making sure it still covers my eyes. “Do you think you’ll be ready for my cock?”

  No.

  After thirty minutes of this, I’ll be dead. There’s no way my body can tolerate so much sustained pleasure. Still, death by orgasm. There are worse ways to go…

  Ryan doesn’t waste any time.

  He turns into a madman. His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere, on my breasts, stroking my clit, pinching my ass. I writhe and thrash against the bed, unable to do anything but lie there and let his magic hands and mouth and tongue and lips render my body boneless. He knows exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply, to bring me right up to the edge of an orgasm without sending me over the edge.

  Every few minutes, his fingers probe my entrance, checking to see just how ready I am. Each time he chuckles and tells me: No, not quite yet.

  “Please, Ryan,” I beg. My eyes strain to see past the tie that’s still wound across my face, but it doesn’t help. Not a single iota of light pierces the darkness.

  “Please what?” Ryan licks his way up my sternum.

  My head lashes back and forth, I know what I want, but I don’t know how to put it into words.

  “It’s okay, baby.” Ryan kisses me. “I can guess.”

  For the first time since covering my eyes with the tie, he shifts off of me. A drawer whispers open and then closed, followed by the crinkling of a package.

  The sound causes all of my concerns to come crashing back. I remember the stories I’ve heard about women tearing and ripping during sex. The glorious heat Ryan has worked so hard to generate dissipates, leaving insecurity and worry in its wake.

  “Sweetheart.” Once again Ryan’s body covers mine. He covers my mouth in one of his heart pounding, toe curling kisses. “Just relax,” he whispers against my parted lips. “I promise I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

  I take a deep, shuddering breath. “I know,” I whisper. And I really do know that, which helps ease – but doesn’t entirely vanquish my fear.

  “Good.” Ryan nips my lower lip, pulling it between his lips in a move that triggers a return of the incredible sensations I felt before he sheathed himself with the condom.

  I gasp and thrust my hips against his as my natural lubricant coats the inside of my thighs. Ryan lowers a hand, sliding his fingers along my bare flesh, testing the proof of my renewed desire. “That’s my girl,” he whispers. His praise fills me with an unaccountable sense of warmth. No – a heat that begs to be quenched.

  And he does.

  Ryan slides, one, two, and then a third finger into me, unerringly hitting my G-spot.

  Mewling softly, I bite down on his shoulder as, once again, I feel an orgasm quickly building within me. Ryan recognizes the signs. He nuzzles my ear and withdraws his fingers.

  “This time,” he growls. “We come together.”

  The tip of his latex-clad cock probes my entrance and, despite everything, I tense.

  “No,” Ryan murmurs. “You can do this.” He kisses my pulse point as his thumb finds and presses down on my clit, driving the bundle of nerves contained with that small bump into a frenzy. “All you’ve got to do is relax and trust me.”

  And I do. Even though I’ve only known him for a short period of time, I trust Ryan m
ore than I’ve ever trusted anyone before in my life.

  I swallow and take a deep breath before directing all of my attention to my pussy. God, I can’t believe I’m calling it that, even in the privacy of my own head! Using all of my powers of concentration, I relax my thighs, giving Ryan’s thumb and probing member better access.

  He kisses my hair. “That’s my girl.”

  The hand that isn’t occupied with my clit trails down my stomach, causing my skin to quiver as I try to guess where it’s going. “Lucy,” he whispers, “I love how much you trust me.”

  The hand slides lower still, gliding around my hip, along the side of my ass and finally cupping around the back of my thigh, which he lifts and hooks over his slim hip.

  “Here we go,” he growls.

  I brace myself for one long, hard thrust, the way the heroes in romance novels always enter their lovers, but Ryan doesn’t do that.

  Keeping my thigh pressed firmly against his hip, he rotates his pelvis in a slow, shallow move that has the head of his cock, but none of the shaft, breaching my entrance.

  “Okay?” Ryan asks, his voice strained.

  Breathing slowly through my nose, I give my hips an experimental wriggle. I feel completely stretched, but nothing seems to be torn. “I think so...”

  “Good.”

  Ryan waits a beat, giving me a little more time to adjust to the strange sensation of having him inside of me before making another small thrust with his hips, seating himself a little deeper.

  I gasp and shudder as his cock brushes nerves and sensitive spots his fingers somehow managed to miss.

  Ryan freezes. “What’s wrong?”

  Before I can answer, he starts to withdraw. Worried I’m hurt.

  I dig my heel into his ass, holding him in place. “I didn’t know it’d feel so good.”

  This time I shimmy my hips, and delight in how his cock slides a little deeper. Only an inch or two to go now.

  “Excellent.” Ryan thumbs my clit, the move and sudden burst of electric fire startling me into thrusting my hips forward, sending his entire length shooting down my channel. The tip brushes my G-spot. Behind the blindfold, my eyes cross.

  “Holy crap,” I shriek.

  Waves of sensation crash over me, drawing me closer and closer to my second orgasm of the night. I can already tell that this one is going to be bigger than the one Ryan gave me earlier. Already, it’s more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced before.

  Ryan’s skin slides over me, feeling like shimmering silk as he slowly and steadily thrusts in and out of me. I arch against him, using my body to beg him for more. I match each roll of his hips with one of my own. Loving the way that each time his thick shaft strokes my inner walls, a fresh wave of fireworks erupts behind my eyelids.

  Ryan reaches down, his hands doing something between my legs. I feel the angle of his cock change slightly, just enough for it to brush against a completely new spot. That simple touch sends a hundred bolts of white lighting jolting through me. They strike every single pleasure point within my body, triggering one explosion after another.

  Above me, Ryan stiffens. His shout of pleasure mixes with mine before he collapses on top of me and buries his face in the crook created by my neck and shoulder.

  Gasping for breath, I run my hands up and down his back, instinctively trying to soothe him as I try to come to grips with what’s just happened.

  My legs and arms continue to tremble as Ryan rolls off me. His now flaccid cock slips from my channel, leaving me feeling oddly empty.

  Murmuring incoherent words, he works at the knot he tied into the tie, loosening it and slowly withdrawing it from around my face.

  I blink as the light pierces my pupils.

  Ryan stands up and slips the condom from his cock. He ties a knot in the end, tossing it into the trash as he walks, looking somewhat wobbly kneed, to the bathroom. I hear the sound of water running for a second and then Ryan reappears, a damp washcloth draped over one hand.

  The mattress shifts, angling me toward him as he sits on the side of it.

  His gaze captures mine and the corners of his mouth tilt in a soft, secret smile. “Hey,” he whispers.

  Feeling strangely shy, considering what he’s just done to me. I duck my head and lower my eyes. “Hey.”

  “I’m just going to make you comfortable.” Ryan nudges my thighs apart. “Okay?”

  He waits for me to nod before using the washcloth to wipe my thighs and pussy, gently removing the sticky mess left over from our lovemaking.

  He makes a second pass over my pussy, the cloth parting my lower lips and brushing over my clit, the rough, damp material sending a white-hot jolt through me. I sink my teeth into my lower lip, but can’t completely contain my low moan.

  Ryan’s hand stops moving and his head snaps up to look at me. “What? Are you hurt?” He starts to lift the washcloth, to look for signs of an injury.

  “No.” I bite out the word and curl my hands into fist. “I’m fine.”

  “Then what …” Ryan’s expression changes as understanding dawns. “Oh.”

  “Mmm,” I confirm as I shimmy my hips, rubbing my uber sensitive flesh against the washcloth.

  A grin spreads across Ryan’s face. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”

  Without another word, he swirls the damp material around my pussy, using his fingers to increase the pressure as it slides across my most sensitive parts. My head lashes back and forth and I arch my back and thrust myself against his hand as a mini-orgasm rolls through me.

  I sink heavily down into the mattress, riding out the aftershocks of the most recent orgasm while Ryan deposits the washcloth in the bathroom.

  When he returns, he bundles me under the covers, shuts off the light, and slips into bed beside me. Feeling more content, more relaxed than I can ever remember feeling before, I turn into his arms, allowing him to cuddle me against his wide, powerful chest, and instantly fall into a deep sleep.

  Ryan

  “Thanks, Margo. Yep, that’s absolutely perfect. Let Jenna know that she’s welcome to come. Stephanie too. That sounds like a great plan. You’re a rockstar.” I keep my voice low as I say my goodbyes to Margo, before turning off my cell phone.

  Lucy is still asleep on the big bed, her dark hair fanned out on the pillow we shared during the night, and her hands tucked under her face. I stand up and look down at her. She looks like an angel. A beautiful, sexy angel, who came twice in my hand and once around my cock last night. The memory causes my dick to twitch and my blood to warm.

  Down, boy, I silently command myself.

  Still, the urge to join Lucy on that bed, to use my hand and mouth to wake her, is nearly impossible to ignore, so I turn away to avoid succumbing to temptation.

  It’s funny. For the most part, my relationships have involved women who were more interested in casual hook ups than anything else. We got together whenever we had an itch that needed to be scratched, and afterwards, we both went our separate ways. It was rare for a woman to spend the night in my bed, rarer still for me to want her as badly in the morning as I did the night before.

  Not Lucy.

  She’s different. Now that I’ve felt how she fits me like a glove, like she’s made for me, I want her more than ever. And considering how badly I wanted – needed – her last night, that’s really saying something.

  She’s worked her way into my blood stream, and I don’t think I’m going to get tired of her anytime soon. Now, all I have to do is figure out a way to convince her to take what we’ve started with our fake relationship and turn it into a real one.

  The fact that I manage to coax three orgasms out of her and got her to spend the entire night in my bed makes me think that the odds are in my favor.

  A soft knock on the hotel door drags my thoughts away from Lucy. I open it to find a pretty, curly-haired brunette standing on the other side, holding a room service tray. Her dark eyes glow and her lips curve into what I suspect sh
e considers a sexy smile.

  “Mr. Jakes,” she says. “Your room service is ready.”

  “Great.” I dig into my pocket, find my wallet, and pull out a twenty. I take the tray and give her the cash.

  She slides the bill into her pocket and shoots me a coy look. “I was wondering if-”

  “I’m sorry,” I cut her off. There’s a chance that she’s only going to ask for my autograph, but ever since a buddy of mine had a young maid push her way into his room and then cry assault, I’ve learned to become downright rude to young women who come bearing trays. “I’m in the middle of something. Bye.”

  I close the door in her face before she has a chance to fully realize she’s been rejected. Hopefully, that twenty will be enough to stop her from launching a smear campaign on Twitter, but if she does, oh well. I’d rather have that than be accused of molestation, or worse.

  I set the tray down on the small table and straighten.

  Lucy is sitting upright up in bed, a sheet clutched to her chest for modesty’s sake.

  “Good morning, gorgeous.” I walk to the side of the bed and lean down, fully intending to give her a good morning kiss that she’s not going to forget anytime soon.

  Before I can, she claps a hand over her mouth and bolts off the other side of the bed, hauling the sheet with her.

  “Luce?” I straighten. “Is something wrong?”

  She shakes her head and tugs the sheet free from the rest of the bedding, wrapping it around herself like a toga. “No. It’s just”–she waves a hand at her mouth—“morning breath.”

  Like that would stop me from enjoying her kiss. Still, there’s no point in pushing the issue. “There’s toothpaste on the bathroom counter. You’ll have to use my toothbrush. I didn’t think to pack a spare.”

  The door closes behind Lucy and I hear the sound of water running. “When you’re done,” I tell her through the closed door, “breakfast is ready.”

  The shower kicks on as I take the items I ordered, a few pastry selections and fruit salad, off the room service tray and arrange them on the small table.