Page 57 of Protect Home
August has always been playful and the first to make jokes with me. Even at Joe’s, the night we hooked up, he was careful. This side of him is peculiar, and I’m caught between wanting to fight him on it just to see what kind of consequence he’ll give me and the option to revel in his alpha-ness.
But he remains calm and dangerously steady. “I may let you be the independent woman you are and boss me around outside of this,” he notes, pointing between us, “but when it’s just the two of us in private, I need you to rein it in and let me lead you. I promise I’ll make it worth it for you.”
“You think I’m an independent woman?” I ask, taking his compliment for what it’s worth.
“The fiercest of them all.”
I nod, choosing to accept his demand and let his compliment be the thing that channels my obedience. The heavily confident feminist side of me would normally argue and claim I don’t need him. But there’s another side of me, one that’s only present while pregnant, that’s exhausted from having it all together.
I want to move into the passenger seat for a while and let August drive. Hand my need to always be in control over to him and let him do the directing.
Maybe even some teaching while we’re at it.
Before I have a chance to change my mind, I stride toward the bed and lift my jersey dress over my head, tossing it on the floor behind me. “Was it the name that did it for you, August? You like having your daddy name across my back?” I reach the bed and turn to face him.
Unclasping my bra, I let my breasts fall free. The loss of support is enough to make me moan in pleasure. But his hungry eyes, drinking me in…well, that will forever go down as my favorite feeling.
“Fuck me,” his raspy voice draws out as he drinks in my near nakedness—all bare skin aside from a pair of skimpy panties.
Approaching the halfway point of pregnancy, my small belly is swollen and hard to miss. I’ve managed to keep my thin frame, but my hips are definitely fuller, along with my breasts, and I can tell August appreciates the change.
Not that he’s seen them before anyway.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I desperately want him to come over here and touch me. My need for him has been nonstop ever since that morning on my balcony.
August approaches me patiently, running his fingers across his neatly trimmed mustache in a way that makes me dream of feeling the roughness between my thighs.
“On your back, Tenley. Head off the edge of the bed.”
I don’t ask for clarification, but take my time and hope like hell it pays off in the end. Situating myself into position, my nipples pebbling to peaks knowing as soon as he touches me, I won’t take anything less than his cock in my mouth. And that seems to be where I’m headed.
“Like this?” I ask, being the brat that I am, and arching my back for good measure.
“Mmm. That’s perfect. Who knew someone so stubborn could be equally submissive?”
Goosebumps flush across my skin at his words. It’s when I feel the slightest touch across my right nipple that I let out a slow and agonizing moan.
“August.”
“To answer your question—yes. I fucking loved thatname on you. Just like I know I’ll love my cum on you even more.” He tweaks my nipple sharply before showing the same attention to the other, ghosting the valley of my full cleavage and dragging his touch down the center of my stomach.
Thrill envelops me, knowing what’s to come.
Little fun fact about me: I love giving oral. Taking someone else’s pleasure into my hands and having the freedom to choose what to do with it—it’s addictive.
“Thought so,” I breathe out, panting through his teasing. “Take your cock out, August. I want to see it.”
“Shit!” I cry out, pain searing through me as August pinches my nipples and pulls.
“What did I say about bossing me around, little venom?” he scolds. “Now, you get to lie there and watch me make myself come.”
I almost riot. Almost plead and beg. What the hell has gotten into me? I don’t beg for August Graves’ cock. “Suit yourself,” I tell him, shoving down my disappointment. I attempt to soothe my burning nipples, but he swats my hands away.
Out of spite, I ask, “May I face forward,sir?” I draw out the sir, hoping he hears my pettiness.
August doesn’t respond, only gestures for me to move. “Back against the headboard. Raise your arms above your head.” I do as I’m told, and it takes me longer than usual to adjust myself with my growing belly. August stands to the side of the bed and pulls out a set of wide-strap laces from his pocket.
“You always carry laces in your pocket?”
