Page 221 of Fixation
His cock thickens between my ass cheeks. A drop of precum dampens my crack.
He groans, hungry and turned on. Then he parts his lips and bites my shoulder.
Fuck.
I love it.
I love my life.
I love him.
Have loved him for months. Twenty-four of those, to be exact.
How could I not?
The man who stalked me, drugged me, and kidnapped me has turned out to be a wonderful, devoted partner and an adoring father to our one-year-old, Wilder.
Even though he still works long hours as an ER surgeon, he’s fully present and immersed in our lives.
Despite everything he’s been through, Dr. Anderson Maguire is every bit the family man he never thought he would be.
No matter how exhausted he is, he always asks me about my day as the first thing he does when he walks through the door. And during his shift. And in the middle of the night, when our little one wakes up crying.
He’s always there for me. My ambitions and skyrocketing career are important to him.
My physical and mental health are his top priority.
I try to spoil him back, but somehow, unless he’s sleeping, he always catches me cooking and cleaning around the house. If he’s not at work, he stops me and makes me rest while he does everything.
Always.
And me and our little one aren’t the only ones who adore him.
My family has already met him, obviously, and they fell head over heels for this man of mine.
My pussy adores him the most.
But when Wilder is up, our red-haired boy with the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen, both of us are in parent mode. We’ve been his simps since the moment the pregnancy test showed we were expecting.
Wilder is asleep now.
It’s Sunday morning, so my phone is turned off.
No emails. No messages. Absolute silence in our cozy home, which is actually two brownstones joined together.
“Kitten.” Anderson pinches my nipple hard. Over and over again until I yelp.
He tsks, and I know why.
I’m dry.
My breasts, not my pussy.
For the first eight months after Wilder was born, I breastfed him.
My husband still misses it.
The prickling feel of the syringe is gone a second before I hear theclinkof it hitting our bedroom floor. “Another time. Not when I’m breeding you.”
