Page 66 of Broken Heat
I laughed, then screeched as his head lowered and his mouth was on it, licking and licking. But I was on fire. I needed him in me.
“I’m in heat. Stop playing. I need you inside now. Please!”
“So forceful but still polite. So pretty. Shaved and ready.” He rose up. “Sweetheart, you are everything.” And with that, he pressed himself against my pucker, pushed hard and slid into me.
I lost my mind, my arms coming up and grabbing his shoulders.
He pulled me to him and took me. Over and over. Knotting me. Telling me wonderful things about how perfect I was. Embarrassing things. Amazing things. Words that got me hotter and hotter.
I rode him into the next day, insatiable, making up for all those lost heats. Lost days. My lost omega self.
I was healed. I was loved. I was well and truly fucked.
*
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
Mykel rubbedmy baby bump with cool, soothing oils. My skin glowed.
He’d opened the curtains in our bedroom and I lay in the moonlight letting it soothe the restless life within me.
I had gotten very little sleep. The baby was moving far too much.
Mykel massaged my belly and kissed it all over. Then he kissed lower and found my cock, hard and waiting, and kissed and licked it until I came in utter bliss, my hands gripping the sheets.
“I can’t wait for him to be born,” I whispered.
“It’s not time yet.” He kissed my lips.
I didn’t hate being pregnant, but I was tired and restless. It seemed I had been pregnant forever. Not that I was complaining. I had spent my life believing I’d never have children. Now one was growing inside me.
Senta sent us encouraging emails and pretty gilt cards illustrated with trees and stars and moons. He wanted us to send pictures of the baby as soon as it was born.
Mykel cooked and waited on me and spoiled me rotten. He wanted to carry me around in his arms, but I stopped that.
“Baby and I need exercise! It’s good for us.”
He looked disappointed.
“Here’s the deal I’ll make,” I told him. “When you have needs, cravings, you know, then you can carry me off like the caveman you are.”
“You mean when I want to fuck you?” he asked.
“Well, duh.”
And right then he’d picked me up and took me to our bed.
“My cock stretching you is good for the birth,” he told me as he thrust himself into my slippery heat.
“Yeah. Right.”
But later, I’d looked it up online, and he was right. Penetration and stretching was recommended for omegas about to give birth. Orgasms, it seemed, were the best medicine.
We had no shortage of those around here.
One morning, I was sitting in the shade wearing nothing but a light robe, sipping cold lemonade and watching Mykel’s muscular body do laps in our pool, when the first contraction hit.
I gasped. “Mykel! Mykel!”
