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The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Samira shifted on the plush couch, the subtle swell of her belly barely there under her silk robe. Jack’s arm was around her, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her shoulder. His touch was tender. Reverent. It was driving her insane.
For two months, since the two pink lines, he’d treated her like a priceless, fragile vase. His lovemaking had become a whispered, careful thing. All soft kisses and shallow, measured movements. She craved the man who used to press her into the mattress until the headboard rattled.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Jack murmured, his lips brushing her temple.
“I’m thinking I need you to fuck me,” she said, her voice low and clear.Series
- Part 14 of Pittcember 2025
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