Having Jay's Baby (Having His Baby #2) by Fran Louise Page B

travelled down her body, her skin delicate and perfumed under my lips. Her bra slipped open easily, her breasts tumbling out. I buried my face in their extravagant mounds, her nipples hard like pebbles. Suckling each one, I stroked her, and then myself, and kept both of us just on the edge of coming.
    “Jay, now,” she moaned, and her thighs slid around me like liquid heat. “Just take me. I can’t hold on any longer.”
    I let go of her hands and eased her legs down. “Wait,” I said, my voice rasping.
    I watched her for a moment, aroused at the mere sight of how far gone she was. I ached to be inside of her. I yanked her panties down, buried my fingers in soft fur beneath. My tongue separated her folds, searching for the source of her heat. I knew I’d found it when a low, guttural sound emanated from her throat.
    “Oh … no, Jay,” she said, the words seeming to come from somewhere low in her body. They vibrated against my mouth.
    I suckled, tasting her, drawing her in like nectar. I couldn’t stop. She was moaning, her fingers, sharp, clutching my hair, but I couldn’t stop.
    “Don’t … wait,” she said, sounding like she was barely aware of what she was saying anymore. “Please-”
    How could I stop? I suckled her again, my tongue sliding against her clitoris. I’d fantasised about this too often. I wanted her out of control, begging for me. Satisfaction reverberated through me as, within seconds, her spasm clenched against my tongue.
    She cried out. She buckled, her body rigid under my mouth. I intensified the pressure, suckling her as hard as I could, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure. She stayed taut under me, every part of her body rigid from the force of the orgasm.
    Time stood still for a moment. Her nails scratched against my scalp. I gritted my teeth, holding on to her until the pressure eased. Only the strangled sound of her gasping disturbed the air. When, finally, her gasps turned into whimpers, and her body softened, I eased her back down on to the pillows.
    I had to hold on. She pulsed beneath me, open and raw, and I was aroused beyond any sense or logic any more. I could smell her. Her orgasm was a drug in my mouth. I knew only on a visceral level that it was Stella lying beneath me, supporting my weight. Lifting her hips, I reared above her, angling my body to take her.
    “Are you ready?” I asked, though I wasn’t expecting an answer. I didn’t get one. I registered her spent, dazed expression, her lips full and naturally red, and then pressed my cock into her swollen folds.
    She was soft and tight all at once. I bent in the middle, gasping for a moment as I encountered the muscles at the mouth of her pussy. I panted, willing myself not to come. Lifting her hips just a fraction higher, I buried my face deep in her fragrant, pulsing neck. My cock throbbed. I pushed again, feeling her hot insides give way.
    #
    The sun had been gathering strength over the middle of the week and by Friday afternoon made a dramatic resurgence. The mercury rose well into the mid-seventies. I was, in an uncharacteristic burst of spring fever, pondering the buds on the trees in the Central Park restaurant as I waited for Bull Fueller to make an appearance. The park was alive with birds and bees and all manner of nature getting frisky. It was oddly stirring. I was in a sparring mood, and on a day like this, I could surely only win.
    “You look full of the joys, Jay,” Fueller said, arriving just in time to catch my serene moment of contemplation. “Who is she?”
    I laughed. “Who says it’s a woman?”
    “No need to be coy, son. I’m too old to be running around stealing younger men’s girls nowadays. I might send out a gossipy memo about it on the Hill, but that’s about it.” Fueller cocked an eyebrow. “Am I to presume you and Elizabeth have patched things up?”
    I sat up. “No.”
    “Oh, a new model…”
    After a wry but non-committal smile, I glanced away. Not a new model; one