Twisted (Tangled #2)(49)
Author: Emma Chase

Misery.

Bring on the f**king chains; I’ll take slavery any day.

Kate pulls back, eyes closed. Panting. “Drew . . . Drew, I need . . .”

I push the hair back from her face. “What, baby, tell me? What do you need?”

her eyes open. “Do you want me, Drew?”

I suck on her bottom lip. And hiss, “Yes.”

“Show me. Make me feel it. Don’t think about the baby . . .

just . . . f**k me . . . like before . . .”

Holy Mary Mother of God.

Okay, at the moment, Kate is . . . stretched. Delicate. Like a water balloon that’s been filled too much.

I’ve had to make conscious effort to take it easy with her in the sex department. Slow and gentle, despite some fantastically creative positions. But now, the things she’s saying—her voice— Christ, it’s all I can do not to bend her over the sink and f**k her till we both go blind.

“I want it hard . . . please, Drew . . . like we used to . . .”

Jesus, this is what a deranged gorilla must feel like, right after he’s escaped the zoo.

“Just . . . don’t look at me, if . . .”

Like a piece of dried tinder, I snap. I grab her arms tighter than I should and spin her around. My hand tangles in her hair, yanking her head back so I can assault her neck. And my raging hard-on grinds against her ass. Kate moans. My other hand slides up her stomach, gripping her br**sts roughly. They overflow in my palm. And our mouths fuse together, tongues plunging, wrestling.

I hook an arm under her knees and sweep her up, heading straight for the bedroom.

Kate pushes against my chest. “Wait, Drew—I’m too heavy.

You’ll hurt yourself.”

If I wasn’t so aroused, I’d be pretty freaking insulted. I cut her off with another deep kiss. Then I lay her out on the bed.

I take my time opening the buttons on the front of her dress, one by one. Not to tease her—but to show her. “‘Don’t look at me,’ my ass! Looking at you is the best f**king part.”

Okay, it’s not the best part. But it’s a really good part.

She wiggles impatiently and I unhook her bra. She slides it off her arms. I take a moment to admire my handiwork, caressing every inch of her bare body with my eyes. Stunning.

Then I bury my face between her tits, laving and sucking, giving each bountiful mound its due.

Kate arches her back and pulls at my hair. Writhing. I rip my shirt over my head.

her arms wrap around my back—kneading—pulling me closer. I moan and nibble a trail up her throat to plant another long kiss on her mouth. I don’t want her thinking about the baby right now, but I can’t pass by the hump without paying it homage.

My lips press against it once, reverently.

Then I stand up. I tear at my belt and slide my pants and boxers to the floor. Kate is breathing fast. her lips are parted and swollen. And her eyes are on fire—on me.

I grab her ankles and drag her to the edge of the bed, wrapping her legs around my hips.

I slide my c**k up and down between her lips, coating the head with her wetness.

Then I stop and our eyes lock. I know she wants a bumpy ride, and I aim to please, but first: “If I hurt you—if you’re uncomfortable at all—you have to tell me.”

She nods quickly. And it’s the only reassurance I need before I slam into her. Fuck. We moan together, long and low. My head rolls back and I thrust again.

She’s tighter now. I don’t know if it’s the baby pressing everything together or just the fact that God is good, but her cunt grips me like a Venus f**king flytrap savoring its last meal. My hips pound against hers, crashing and rubbing, as rough as I dare.

It feels primitive. Raw. And so exquisitely intense, it could be illegal. her massive br**sts bounce with each push. She’s gasping and groaning, loving every second of it. Kate reaches for my hips, but they’re too far out of range. She grips the bed sheets instead and mangles them.

Keeping the pace swift and steady, I slide my hand between us and rub her clit, just the way she likes. Then I move higher, pinching those gorgeous dark ni**les. Kate’s tits have always been a hot spot, but lately they’ve been extra sensitive.

her mouth opens, but only small whimpers come out. And that’s just unacceptable.

“Come on, baby, you can do better than that.”

I give each pointy peak a good, long tug. And she screams, “Drew . . . Drew . . . yes . . .”

So much f**king better.

I move my hands to her knees and hold on for leverage. Pulling her toward me as I push forward. Skin slapping skin. “God . . . Kate . . .”

I’m not going to be able to hold out much longer. At this rate I really didn’t expect to. My chin drops to my chest and I reach down and grab her ass. Lifting her up—plunging deeper. Moving faster.

Kate’s legs tighten on me and I know she’s close too. And she’s moaning . . . chanting . . . it’s a beautiful thing. And then she goes rigid under me. Clenching around me. Taking me down with her.

I grip her waist, holding her close as we come together.

Later, when our breaths finally return to normal, I collapse on the bed next to her. “God damn. That never gets old.”

She laughs. “Yeah. I needed that.”

Then she bites her bottom lip and looks at me sideways. Bashfully.

“Want to do it again?”

Like she really needs to ask.

A few hours later, I wake up from my sex-induced coma to the sound of Kate’s voice.

“Ugh . . . goddamn pizza. Damn whoever invented it.”

I rub the sleep from my eyes and glance out the window. It’s still dark outside, just a couple hours after midnight. Kate is pacing across the room, rubbing her belly. Breathing hard.

“Kate? What’s going on?”

She stops in her tracks and looks my way. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.” She moans softly. “Just indigestion.”

Just indigestion?

Famous last words.

And the next thing you know, Uncle Morty’s lying on a slab in the morgue from the massive heart attack he never knew he was having. Not on my watch, buddy.

In a flash, I’m out of bed—sweatpants on. I stand next to Kate, my hand on her shoulder.

“Should we call the doctor?”

“What? No . . . no, I’m sure it’s just . . . ugh . . .” She bends over, holding her midsection. “Oh . . . ow . . .”

And a gush of water bursts from between her legs. Like ten gallons’ worth.

The two of us just stand there. Stupidly. Watching as droplets fall from the edge of her nightgown onto the rug. And then, like a snake slithering in the grass, reality winds its way through our brains.