by Ann Jacobs
“It would be black, like yours,” He said, good humor in His tone. “What little there’d be of it.” With that He shoved His jeans down, revealing His hard, huge cock and satiny ball sac, thick, muscular thighs and calves, and big feet with high arches and neatly trimmed toenails.
Sandra smiled. “I hope our baby looks like you,” she told Him when He came down on the bed and dragged her arms above her head.
“I want her to look like you. Don’t move now.”
Wasn’t He going to tie her? Apparently not, she decided when He made no move to get a set of restraints from the drawer but bent instead to place open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, her throat, her belly—everywhere but on her taut nipples and her sopping cunt.
Restrained only by His order, she lay still, concentrating on the rasp of His jaw against her tender skin, the moist heat of His breath, the increasingly ragged sound of His breathing and her own. Her clit throbbed against His ring with every swipe his satiny tongue made around her navel and over her mons, and her cunt contracted, spilling out slick hot juice that dribbled down her slit and pooled around the opening to her anus.
She’d never felt hotter, more mastered, even when He’d had her tied and blindfolded and helpless to His desire. His softly spoken order restrained her as well as any silken cord or leather cuffs.
When she whimpered, He bent and caught her clit ring between his teeth. The sensation stole her breath, swept away her reason. Arching her hips, she gave Him better access to her swollen clit, her cunt. Anything He wanted, she wanted to give. With every swipe of His tongue along her slit, her cunt spilled more nectar to feed His voracious appetite.
“Fuck me, Master,” she begged, desperate for Him now. “Please fuck me. I need Your big, hot cock in my cunt. So-oooo much.” Her belly tightened as He slid up her body to take her mouth.
“Hold me, baby,” He said, dragging her hands to his mouth and kissing them before balancing His weight on one arm and feeding His big cock to her cunt with infuriating care. “God, but you’re hot and wet. I love feeling you with nothing between us. Love you, baby.”
“I…love You, too. Oh, Master, don’t stop…may I… Ooh, yessss, Master, I’m coming.”
Rocky reached a hand between them, stroking her clit and tugging gently on the tiny ring while he tempered the strength of his thrusts, wanting to prolong her orgasm. But it had been three weeks. Three long weeks. His balls felt as though they were going to burst. Before her ecstatic spasms slowed, he let go the control he couldn’t maintain any longer and exploded in her.
At least he had the presence of thought to roll them onto their sides before giving in to the satiated exhaustion that had him weak as a kitten in her arms.
Epilogue
Seven months later
A Cadillac of a stroller held a giant teddy bear from Rocky’s detectives. A top-of-the-line playpen was doing double duty as a container for the blue sheets and blankets and little outfits that Sandy’s coworkers had brought to the surprise shower at Andi’s bungalow in Old Hyde Park. Rocky figured he’d have one hell of a time wrestling all of it into his SUV.
At least there were a few guys here among all the women. Maybe he could commandeer a couple of them to help load up the loot.
Their baby boy had received a hell of a lot of it. So much he wondered where they’d stash it all in the nursery off the master bedroom of their new house. But Sandy would find a way. He’d never run across a woman before who was so damn organized.
And so much fun to love.
Even now, when she was big as a barn and he was scared shitless that he’d hurt her or their unborn son, she still wanted him when he imagined most women as pregnant as she was would as soon cut off the guilty party’s cock as suck it.
Yeah. Rocky was one lucky SOB.
“Congratulations, Detective. I hear you’re the lucky father?”
Rocky turned and held out his hand. “Yeah. Thanks. What are you doing at a gathering of cops and prosecutors, Landry?” he asked the defense lawyer he figured he ought to thank for having rattled Sandy’s cool enough to send her straight into his own bed.
“Pursuing Kristine Granger.”
Visually scanning the room, Rocky picked out the young attorney who Sandy mentioned had tried her first case a few weeks ago—and lost. “Nice,” he murmured, though the patrician-looking blonde didn’t do it for him. “Sandra liked working with her.”
“Past tense?”
“Yeah. She’s decided she wants to be a full-time mom, at least for a while. Maybe later she’ll get bored. Hell, maybe later she’ll even try working from your side of the courtroom.”
Landry grinned. “Tell her to come see me if she wants a job. Winston Roe can always use another kick-ass defense lawyer. The way you guys do your job, there’s never a shortage of defendants.”
“And the way you do yours, there always seem to be plenty tossed back on the streets so we can catch ‘em and you can defend ‘em again,” Rocky replied, too mellow tonight to get into a serious debate about the merits of innocent until proven guilty.
“Uh-huh. Keeps the fees rolling in, keeps my partners happy. Take care, man. I’m going to try to extricate Kristine and escape.”
Watching Tony Landry drape an arm possessively over Kristine’s shoulder, Rocky wished them well. Life was good, and he couldn’t even begrudge happiness to Landry, whose skill at getting criminals—accused criminals, he amended—back on the streets made his job more difficult that it had to be.
It was about time, he guessed when others started leaving, so he headed for Sandy. “You’re tired, baby,” he said, bending to nibble on her earlobe. “Let’s thank Andi for the party, find a couple of guys to help load up your presents, and head on home.”
“I’m not that tired…” She lowered her voice to a whisper… “Master.”
Yeah. Rocky was damn sure a lucky man. Master…and mastered by the luscious woman who was his wife.