Craving, Consumed

 I couldn’t sleep.

It was just past 11 p.m., the full moon casting soft silver light across the bed, and I was aching—not with pain, but need. My belly was huge now, taut and low, skin stretched tight over our son. I could barely bend over, and my breasts were so full they throbbed. I’d been leaking off and on for days now, waking with damp spots on my thin sundresses.

And tonight, I wanted Ethan.

No—needed him.

He was already asleep, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that always comforted me. But I couldn't stop squirming. The slick warmth between my thighs had turned insistent. I couldn’t even pretend it was subtle anymore. I sat up, groaning softly at the pressure in my pelvis, and pressed my thighs together as a wave of desire rushed through me.

I shifted, then straddled him slowly, climbing over him as quietly as I could. The way his scruffy jaw looked in the moonlight, the scent of him—warm, masculine, familiar—made my heart pound. My breasts were hanging heavy, nipples swollen and tight, already dripping slightly. I felt feral.

Ethan stirred, eyes blinking open just as I ground my hips down on his length.

His voice was husky. “Baby, what are you—”

“Shhh,” I whispered. “Don’t say no. I need you.”

He groaned as I pulled my sundress over my head and tossed it aside, leaving me completely bare, straddling him. He sat up, arms circling around me instinctively. His hands cupped my breasts, warm milk smearing his palms as he kissed me hard.

“God, you’re soaked,” he growled, slipping his fingers down to find how ready I was for him. “You’re so full… so ready to be fucked.”

I whimpered, pressing against him. “Then do it. Take me, Ethan. I want to ride you until the sun comes up.”

That was all he needed.

He let me take control, guiding him inside me inch by inch. Even after all these months, the stretch of him made me gasp. I sank down slowly, my hands gripping his shoulders as I rocked into him, the pressure exquisite.

His hands roamed—my hips, the underside of my belly, my breasts as they bounced and leaked with each movement. He brought one nipple to his mouth, suckling gently, groaning against my skin.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured.

It was raw and wild. My belly pressed against his chest, sweat slicked our bodies, and the room filled with the sounds of our bodies colliding. My breath came in moans and half-sobbed curses, his name falling from my lips again and again.

He held me tighter as I started to tremble. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

I shattered with a cry, my body pulsing around him, clenching so hard I thought I might break. He flipped us, taking over, his thrusts deep and slow as he kissed my jaw, my neck, my breasts.

We didn’t stop.

The craving came in waves. Every time I thought we were done, he kissed my inner thighs, sucked my nipples, touched me until I writhed beneath him. He worshipped me, claimed me, and gave me the kind of pleasure that bordered on unbearable.

By 6 a.m., I was exhausted, completely spent… and that’s when I felt it.

A low, deep cramp in my back.

I blinked. “Ethan?”

His hand was trailing between my thighs again, but I stilled him. “Wait.”

He sat up, instantly alert. “What is it?”

I breathed through it—tight, long, unmistakable. “That wasn’t a Braxton Hicks.”

“Are you sure?”

Another wave hit. Stronger. Sharper.

I met his eyes. “Oh yeah. I think that… that was a contraction.”

He blinked, eyes wide. Then he grinned—wild and proud. “You went into labor because I fucked you like you needed all night?”

I laughed, even as the next wave hit. “Shut up and grab the hospital bag.”

He did. And as we headed out the door, I felt it—this thrilling, terrifying new chapter rushing toward us.

The wildest night of passion had brought the beginning of something even more powerful: the moment we’d been waiting for.