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I look back down at her, confused about why she’d ever be feeling like that.
“Scared?” I ask, my brow furrowing low. “I don’t want you to be scared, baby. Why would you be scared? Is it because the tent’s outside in the open? We don’t have to sleep in it tonight if you don’t want to.”
She shakes her head adamantly, her nails now gripping into my lower back. I’m trying not to get too hard because I can’t tell if she’s horny or anxious or a combination of both, but it’s damn well easier said than done.
“It’s not the tent,” she says quickly, pulling me against her harder. “I love the tent, it was so thoughtful of you. It’s that… that…”
Then she’s not talking anymore and suddenly we’re kissing, one of her hands leashed through my hair so that she can press me hard against her. My mind goes blank, thinking of nothing but her – the feel of her body underneath me, pliant and supple, and her mouth as she takes me, submitting to my tongue.
I give her those long firm strokes that make her go limp against the mattress, and her brow arches high, in a pleasure-pain purgatory.
“I – I – I have to tell you,” she whimpers, her beautiful legs wrapped tight around me and locking me against her sex.
“Tell me, baby,” I say back to her, positioning one forearm above her head so that I can crowd her with my bicep, and dropping my other hand between us so that I can start rubbing between her thighs.
She moans and arches backwards, panting as I caress her over her thermals.
“Mitch,” she whispers. “I – I –”
I rub her faster. “Say it, baby.”
She presses her face into my bicep. “Mitch, I missed my period.”
My heart stops in my chest and my eyes drop straight to her belly.
Then every muscle in my body is swelling.
“What did you just say?” I rasp.
She peeks up at me and then whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut and squishing herself back against my bicep.
“I missed my period,” she mumbles.
“Say it again.”
“I missed my–” She stops herself short and turns to look at me. This time her cheeks heat up for a different reason. She reads my expression, surprised and a little unsure. “I missed my period,” she whispers.
“We used protection,” I say, my voice deep and even.
“I know,” she whispers back to me. “You wore a condom every time.”
I tighten the fist above her head, trying to suppress my growing satisfaction.
“Did you take a test?” I ask, shifting slightly so that I can undo my zip, grunting when my shaft is free and unleashed.
She shakes her head, her eyes still twinkling with nerves. “Not yet.”
“How many periods have you missed?”
She stares up at me silently with those big wide eyes and I bore down on her, my body rippling with tension. Pleasure. I try not to smirk but all I can think isfuck yeah.
I know her answer before she even says it.
She swallows hard. “Two.”
I inhale deeply, closing my eyes for a brief moment.
She’s pregnant. She got pregnant the second that we started having sex, and she’s now carrying my baby.
