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I lay Sophie down on the bed, my right hand tucked behind her neck and the other reaching for that yellow T-shirt. I slid it up, letting it bunch just below her ribs. Her stomach, now five months pregnant, was beautiful. I ran my palm over it, tenderly, lovingly, and then I peeled the top over her head. The bra went next. Her breasts, a little larger than the first time we had slept together, were stunning, her nipples peaked.
My hand rolled across her left breast, catching onto the nipple, and I rubbed it between my forefinger and thumb. Sophie groaned, tilting her head back into the pillows, arching her back, and pushing her hips forward.
“They look different, don’t they?” she said, holding my gaze.
“They do,” I replied, smiling.
“In a good way?”
“The best way,” I said, and pressed my mouth to hers again, kissing her hard, hoping she understood that I loved this new body of hers as much as I had loved the old one.
To show her, I ran my hands down her stomach, brushing so lightly against her warm skin that I could just feel the goose bumps breaking out on the surface. My hand slipped beneath her sweatpants, landing on her cotton panties. She moanedbefore I had even touched her, and when I did, when I slipped my fingers beneath the cotton and touched the silky wetness of her core, we both moaned.
“Why do you always do this,” she said, eyes closed. “Tease me like this.”
“What do you mean?” I mused, running circles around her core, heavy circles. Her body tensed up, her hands reaching for my wrists, either desperate to restrain me or guide me.
“Oh fuck, Alex,” she moaned, her body falling apart beneath my touch.
But it wasn’t just Sophie struggling to hold it together, it was me too. I couldn’t take it anymore. The ache in my groin was growing by the second.
I was up in a flash, sliding my thumbs into the waistband of Sophie's sweatpants, and pulling them down swiftly. I did the same with her panties.
She was beautiful. The way she opened up herself, legs splayed apart, reminded me of a rose blooming in spring, the petals unfurling, showing me all of herself.
“If mine goes, yours have to as well,” she whispered, looking not at my face or my bare chest, but at my hips.
"As you please," I said, but didn't do it right away. Instead, I bent down, pressed my lips to the center of her, savoring the way her body tensed up yet again, and licked my tongue along the length of her.
When she was begging for her life, I stepped back and slipped out of my jeans and briefs, which I kicked to the small pile of clothes on the floor before I moved over Sophie again. First I swept my mouth up the inside of her right thigh, then her left, then I pressed my lips to her stomach, worked my tongue up to her sternum, and settled between her breasts.
“You know you’ve set unbelievably high expectations for yourself,” she whispered just as my mouth met hers. “I don’tthink I’ve been with a man that can hold himself out for this long, that makes me feel so . . . ” she cut herself off and didn’t pick up again, instead moaning when I swiped my tongue over her left nipple.
“Can I put that in my resume?” I joked.
Sophie laughed, and I loved the way she laughed into my mouth, how her shaking body wracked mine too. It was like a piece of heaven I’d managed to find here on earth. Just me and Sophie in her creaky queen-sized bed.
When the laughter died down, Sophie’s hands weaved through my hair and pulled me flush against her. Her hands skidded down my back, then to the sides of my stomach, and reached for my hips. Sophie tried to tug me up over her and I let her, even though I wasn’t ready yet to give her what she wanted. I knew that if I did, the moment would be over, and I wanted to prolong it for minutes, hours, to trace every curve of her body, kiss every inch of her skin. I wanted to get to know Sophie, her body, every freckle and mole, every perfect imperfection.
But the slowness was coming to an end and fiery desperation was replacing it.
I was incredibly hard.
A moment later, I moved my lips down to her neck and pushed myself into her, feeling the vibration of the moan escaping her throat. She was tight at first, but then her body relaxed, embracing all of me, and I thrust deeper.
My right hand found her left, pinning it to the bed as Sophie’s legs twined around my hips. “Faster,” she breathed. “Harder.”
I let go of her hand, gripped her waist instead, and flipped us both over.
Sophie was on top of me, her hips straddling mine, her lower back arched, head lolled back as if she was staring at the ceiling.
I held her hips, moved my palms up the sides of her stomach, and reached her breasts, squeezing them tenderly.
We went on like this until our breaths turned raspy as a shuddering pressure shot through us. When her shudders subsided, Sophie doubled forward, her hands flat on my stomach, her fingers splayed. She laughed, her shoulders shaking.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, still catching my breath, embracing the fuzzy post-sex haze that seemed to get me every time.
“I always thought it would be weird to have sex when pregnant. But it’s actually not.”
