Once I was on my knees with my ass in the air, Ward slid a pillow under my belly before trailing his large hands down my back. Reaching my ass, he gripped the cheeks tightly. “I’m gonna find a way to give you the show you want. But for now, I’m gonna fuck away my day and remind myself what I have.” He slammed in. “What’s mine.” He froze, inhaling deep. “Tell me to stop if it gets too much ’cause I’m barely holdin’ on here, baby.”

That was the last warning I got before he started fucking me like the world was about to end.

It was hard. Rough.

Brutal.

Ward used his hold on my cheeks to move me up and down his length. Making me take him. Making me fuck myself on him.

His touch had a heady urgency, like he couldn’t get deep enough. Close enough.

Like he couldn’t get enough of me.

His thick cock did amazing things. Filling me. Stretching me. Building my pleasure higher and higher.

But it was his desperation that sent me over the edge. My body tightened, a wave of euphoria rippling across every nerve ending.

He slammed in hard to punctuate his words as he grunted, “Thank fuck.”

I’d thought his movements were unhinged before, but I quickly realized he’d been holding back. With no restraint, he fucked me until my knees began to slide out from under me. He gripped my hips and repositioned me, keeping hold so he could keep me where he wanted.

Fuck me how he needed.

Another orgasm shot through me, and a moment later, he followed. His cum filled me, but he kept plunging deep until it pushed out to drip down my thighs.

Our heavy panting filled the air as we stayed like that for a long moment. When Ward pulled free, his cock hit my clit, sending another aftershock through me.

I was about to collapse when he wrapped an arm around me and took me to my side, curving his front along my back.

I was a mess, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was too sated. Too happy.

Hesitating, I wondered if I was about to ruin it.

I asked my questions anyway. “What happened today?” After a few beats, I gently touched his hand on my belly. “And why are your knuckles swollen again?”

He was silent, giving my overactive imagination time to dream up a million and ten worst-case scenarios.

I shouldn’t have asked. I should’ve waited.

Heaven knows I have enough of my own secrets.

The longer he remained silent, the worse my stomach twisted.

I already had a baby in there doing somersaults, so I didn’t need to add apprehensive cramps.

“Ward.” I wasn’t sure why I said his name or what I wanted. Maybe to prompt him. Maybe to tell him never mind.