Arrive by Nina Lane Page B

quivering mass of urgency like I usually do when he licks my nipples, nor do I experience even the slightest hint of a contraction, but it’s very pleasant and his hair is thick and soft against my chest, his hand resting protectively on my belly.
    After a few minutes, he lifts his head. “Anything?”
    “No.” I glance at his crotch. “You?”
    “Uh…”
    I can’t help smiling. Nice to know I can still get the man aroused, even being over forty weeks pregnant and thirty pounds heavier. Oh, yeah, and almost two bra cup sizes bigger.
    Ahem.
    I put my hand over Dean’s fly, which is starting to swell. I’m still not up for anything acrobatic, but there are certain things I can do that don’t require much exertion at all.
    His throat works with a swallow. “Liv, you don’t have to…”
    “I know I don’t.” But I want to because he’s so freaking adorable with his reading glasses on and his hair disheveled and him all concerned about finding the right method of stimulating my nipples.
    I squirm around trying to find a good position, but I can’t lean over him with my belly in the way. “You might have to…”
    “You really want to do this?” he asks.
    “Sure. As long as you don’t feel like you have to return the favor.”
    “Well, the book does say that an orgasm will contract your uterus and remember when—”
    I stop his words with a kiss. Even though I want to have this baby, I’m still not sure I can relax enough to have an orgasm.
    And even though I don’t feel like having sex these days, I have never grown tired of kissing my husband. I love the way our lips part at the same time, the way his tongue explores my mouth and his teeth graze my lower lip. I squeeze his crotch, feeling his erection grow beneath the denim of his jeans.
    “Stand up,” I say.
    He does, moving in front of me so I can unbutton his jeans and push them over his hips. My heart speeds up at the sight of his shaft, all warm and rigid. I grasp the base in my hand and lick the tip.
    “Ah, fuck, Liv…” Dean spears his hands into my hair and rocks his hips forward. “We were supposed to be stimulating you.”
    “You, me, what’s the difference.” I run my tongue over the sinuous veins in the shaft and reach down to cup his heavy balls.
    A pulse starts between my legs, but it’s mild and more in reaction to his arousal than a direct result of my own.
    Maybe.
    I curl my fingers into his hips when he starts to gently thrust. It’s pretty sexy after all, the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of my mouth, my breasts bare and my nipples decidedly simulated. The pulsing in my sex increases to a throb. A groan rumbles from his chest. I shift to try and rub myself against the sofa cushion.
    Dean pauses in his thrusting and looks down at me. “You want more?”
    I pull back with a gasp. “I don’t know.”
    “Want me to try?”
    I figure it can’t hurt. I nod and spread my hands over my breasts. My nipples poke against my palms.
    “Should I…”
    “Do this.” He lifts my breasts and presses them together.
    He knows exactly how hot this makes me. My heart is starting to pound hard as I feel him slide into the valley between my breasts, the path slick already with a combination of sweat and arousal.
    A luscious, warm coil winds through my lower body as he pushes his cock into my cleavage, his hand gripping my hair, his breath coming fast. I love the sight of his erection pushing through the pillowy cushions of my breasts, love the way his fingers dig in tighter when his desire spikes.
    He stops and slips away from me. I wiggle backward on the sofa so he can settle beside me, smoothing his hand over my belly down between my legs. I tense a little as he delves his fingers in the pleats of my sex, but his touch is so light and gentle that my anxiety melts away.
    “All right?” he whispers.
    I nod. He lowers his head to capture my mouth in a deep kiss that makes my blood spark. His tongue sweeps into my mouth. His