Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust Book 3)

by Trent Evans

  Kirsten let out a long gasp as he spread the oil over her skin, cradling the weight of her belly in both hands as he rubbed the slipperiness into her skin. He closed his eyes, and pressed himself to her body, stroking her slowly, committing every blissful second to memory. He knew he’d remember this moment for the rest of his life, the feel of her soft skin against his hands, the sound of her quick, heavy respiration, lust and nervousness on her every breath, the smell of her hair as he nuzzled her neck, whispering sweet words of promise, of threat, of love.

  Keihl pulled the front of his warm-ups down, just enough to free his aching erection. He wrapped a fist around the shaft, unable to resist stroking it a few times. He pressed the inflamed head to the softness of her bottom, easing it back and forth across the expanse of her buttock. His cock left a trail of glistening wetness across her skin. She made a low sound, and pushed back against him.

  “Let me up and I’d be happy to take care of that for you.”

  “No quite yet, pretty girl.” He applied more of the baby oil, knowing Kirsten watched his reflection in the mirror.

  Exactly how he wanted it.

  “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” he murmured at her ear.

  Charging his palms with the slippery oil, he took her breasts in his hands, molding their soft weight to his palms, loving the way his fingers glided effortlessly over her skin. Her nipples came up even harder then as he circled the darkness of each areola. He caught her gaze in the glass and grinned at her, watching her as she looked down at her breasts still clutched in his hands.

  “My God… that’s beautiful,” he said, mesmerized at the way the bright sheen of her oiled globes caught the warm light, emphasizing the curves, the ripe lushness of her breasts. “Does that feel good, Kirsten? Be honest.”

  Her sweet blush rose once more and she looked away. “Yes, Sir.”

  “They don’t hurt?”

  “A little tender… when you squeeze hard.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want me to squeeze them anymore?”

  Her blush deepened to scarlet. “No, Sir.”

  “No you don’t want me to — or no, you don’t want me to stop?”

  He tightened his hands around her flesh, and she let out a low groan.

  “I… don’t want you to stop.”

  “Even though it hurts?”

  He gently bit into her bare shoulder, and she tilted her head away, baring her neck to him, inviting more.

  Kirsten’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Yes, sir.”

  And he gave her what she wanted, though he was careful not to take it too far, only pinching her nipples lightly, Tom’s statement about breast stimulation still fresh in mind.

  Then he took his time, rubbing down her entire body in the oil, making her extend her arms overhead as he left her skin glistening, the overhead light rendering her form a glowing, erotic tribute to feminine beauty. How he loved her.

  “Up now,” he whispered, with a brush of his lips across her ear.

  Moving back around to the front, he held her hand helping her rise, drinking in the alluring movement of the heavy, oiled breasts. Then she stood once more, within the cage of the rack.

  “You see that cross bar at the top? Reach up and grab it, girl.”

  Her frightened gaze darted to him, and he waited for her to obey, savoring the warring mix of excitement and uncertainty he saw in her eyes. Finally, she did it, her stunning, curvy form stretched upward, her body mouthwatering, breathtaking. He didn’t know such beauty was possible.

  He stood back then, admiring her from all angles, the wet heaving breasts, the broad sweep of the hips, the way the lush thighs rubbed together, the slick bare mound of her sex huddling in the shadow of her round belly. His fingers traced the line that had developed that lead down from the umbilicus, and drew close, his lips tasting the heated, oiled skin, a kiss of reverence and possession both as Kirsten murmured her arousal.

  Keihl pulled a chair over and sat down before her, quite close, the scent of her sex strong on the air, the heat of her oiled body upon his own skin. He smiled up at her, her eyes, dark, hooded, her lips quivering with a desire she could no longer hide.

  “Do you want me to do something about that hot pussy of yours? Is there something you want, girl?”

  The column of her throat worked as she swallowed, her eyes closing a moment.

  “Yes, sir. Please… I need you. I need you inside me. Please.”

  He stood up, pressing a soft kiss to her swollen lips, the tip of his tongue tasting hers. He looked into her eyes, her gaze fevered, desperate.

  “Yes, I think I can do that for you. Now pay attention, Kirsten.”

  Keihl returned to his seat, then leaned forward, studying the swollen, fragrant cunt. He ran a fingertip through the soft labia, licking off the tart wetness, then found the hard little clit.

  “I love you shaved like this. I think I might keep you like this from now on.” He peered up at her, Kirsten’s eyelids heavy with growing desire. “Would you like me to keep this cunt bare for you?”

  “Oh God, Keihl…”

  She closed her eyes, thrusting her hips forward ever so slightly, saying more than words ever could.

  “I thought so.” He moved his chair closer until his knees brushed her legs. “I want you to let go of that bar now. Spread your legs.”

  Keihl had to remember to breathe as he watched those beautiful, soft thighs move, the scent of her arousal stronger then. He licked his lips, and retrieved his cock from his warm-ups once more. Her breath hitched as she caught sight of his cock. He held himself for just a moment, catching her eye, teasing her, her gaze dropping to watch as he pumped his fist up and down the shaft once, twice, a third time, a bright drop of precome beading at the tip of the congested head of his cock.

  “Straddle me now,” he said, her breasts swaying as she obeyed, the weight of her thighs surrounding him. As she lowered, her hands clasped his shoulders, steadying herself. He drew in a long breath, savoring the scent of her pussy, now mere inches from his face. He darted forward, drawing his tongue deeply through the hot, sodden folds, sucking on the hard clit a moment as Kirsten cursed under her breath.

  He pulled back, and Kirsten thrust her hips, trying to prolong the touch of his tongue.

  “Now, put it in,” he said, his voice thick.

  “I-I can’t.”

  She dropped one of her hands from him, and he growled, her hand quickly returning to his shoulder.

  “I need my hands, Keihl

  “You’ll do it without them, girl.” She lowered still further, and the head of his cock brushed the lips of her sex. “I can’t believe how swollen this pussy is. I’d read about what pregnancy does to it, but seeing you like this. Jesus, it’s even better than I’d imagined.”

  The lips of her sex were congested with blood, a blooming red, the tissues swollen, the moisture glistening between the folds, the clit now fully out from under its hood, the bright red tip begging for more. He intended to give her just want she wanted.

  “Your clit is so big, Kirsten.”

  She whimpered, and he grinned, knowing it had always embarrassed her, the prominence of that little bundle of nerves only increasing as her pregnancy progressed, her entire pussy seemingly perpetually engorged.

  Drawing the head of his cock over her hard clit, she gasped, his precome mixing with her own juices.

  “Jesus Christ,” she kissed, her hips bucking. “Please, Keihl…”

  “Please, what?”

  “God, please… please fuck me. Please!”

  Then she dropped down even more, and he guided the head of his cock between those hot, wet lips, clenching his teeth against a groan as her flesh squeezed tight upon him.

  “Practicing those Kegels?”

  “You’re… damn right,” she panted, her eyes flashing with lust.

  She sank down upon him fully, her soft buttocks pressed to his thighs. Keihl threw his head back, groaning, her hot, wet
sex surrounding him, destroying his ability to resist her one second more.

  Slowly working his cock, her belly brushed against his him, her breasts bouncing, she built up a faster and faster pace. He clutched her closer, licking and gently sucking those dark, hard nipples, tasting the hint of sweetness upon his tongue that he’d come to savor. He looked forward to the day when her milk came in fully, when he could taste her sweetness in all its glory.

  “Harder,” he grunted, reaching up and twisting a fist in her hair, pulling her close so that he could kiss her, make her taste her own sweetness upon his lips.

  Kirsten plunged down upon him over and over, her oiled breasts swaying and shivering as she moved. He caught her gaze, smiling up at her as her moans grew louder, the leather and chains of the harness swaying overhead.

  “Come, Kirsten. Come for me.”

  She shrieked then, her head thrown back, her hips grinding against him, her juices flooding over his cock, running down his thighs. The squeeze and grip of her sex around him sent him over the edge, and he hugged tight to her as he thrust hard into her depths, his hips bucking sharply as he shot his seed within her.

  Panting, spots of light dancing in his vision, he stilled, both of them breathing hard, the sweat of their bodies running down their skin. The front of his shirt stuck to him, sweat and oil matting it to his flesh. His shaking hands traced the line of her trembling lips, and he stroked her warm cheek. She collapsed down upon him then, her fragrant hair surrounding him, her lips pressing feverish kisses to his face, his neck.

  “I… I can’t believe…” Kirsten said, breathless, her arms around him. “So good. God, so… good.”

  Holding her tight, Keihl dipped his head down, and kissed the upper swell of her belly.

  “You’re welcome, my love.”

  Chapter Forty One

  For Kirsten, the last month of her pregnancy seemed to pass by in a blur. She’d told herself to remember all of it: the large and the small, the amusing and the frustrating, the simple and the profound.

  How many times had she simply wished things would slow down, give her a chance to savor the sweetness of it, the emotional highs, the unrivaled joys of carrying Keihl’s baby? Yet at others — such as waking up for the third time in a single night with vicious heartburn — she wished it were all over right fucking now.

  Joely had warned her of course about how rotten she could expect to feel, but the experience of late term pregnancy was something Kirsten had found both easier and far more trying than she had ever imagined.

  From the weekly visits to the OB — though much easier considering Tom had now taken over her care — to the way even complete strangers would invade her personal space, touching her belly as if it were public property, without even asking permission, Kirsten sometimes wondered if her body had somehow ceased to be hers, as if she were simply along for the ride now, more than ever feeling less like the center of attention, and more like the vessel that was about to produce the real center of attention. At times, she struggled with indignance, with frustration, with a guilt that somehow those feelings might make her selfish.

  Mostly though, she was just tired. A lot.

  But Keihl. Her Keihl.

  Even on the rare occasions when she wanted to knock his block off, he always seemed to have that internal compass oriented toward her, toward what she needed, toward what would actually help her — even if she didn’t know herself at the time. Somehow, he just knew. Kirsten fought against the growing fear of losing control, her struggles increasingly futile as she grew larger, even more ungainly. Yet Keihl was always there, unwavering in his support, his love, his understanding.

  And, most of all, never failing to show her the sweet release in another kind of helplessness, in the freedom of surrender.

  It only drew her closer to him, deepened her love for her husband.

  However, that love — and that ever simmering lust — could sometimes make things… a little complicated.

  She was still deeply attracted to him, despite the cautions she’d read that indicated sexual desire could sometimes wane in late stage pregnancy. No, for her, that was never a problem. She still wanted him to make love to her, to fuck her in whatever way he liked — or whatever way her body would allow.

  Though she wasn’t quite the bitch in heat she’d thought of herself during the second trimester, she still wanted her husband’s cock. All the time. But she was so far along, that even the thought of sex was beginning to exhaust her.

  They’d adapted though.

  After each weekly check-up, they’d asked about it. Kirsten no longer blushed at Keihl’s blunt, possessive inquiries about the safety of continuing to fuck his pregnant wife. And each time, Tom had advised them to keep having sex, but that they should try to lower the intensity just a bit.

  Kirsten used to like being on top, but having her cervix repeatedly struck in that position, had lost some of the appeal with her newfound sensitivity. Before her pregnancy, having her cervix touched was something she enjoyed. Keihl had discovered long ago that she was sometimes able to orgasm from cervical stimulation alone. Now though, in late stage pregnancy, the sensation was just too intense.

  It was just as well, as Tom had gently advised them against cervical stimulation — for obvious reasons — instead assuring the both of them that regular intercourse was safe all the way up to the due date, as long as things didn’t get too crazy.

  Her belly was so large that the only two positions she could really enjoy were doggy style, or with him from behind as she lay on her side.

  She honestly felt like a landed whale when she’d lay on her side, but the intimacy of that position was like no other, his long, thick cock, so impossibly hard, sliding up into her as he gently stroked the taut roundness of her pregnant belly. It almost made her cry, it felt so good, so right.

  When Keihl took her now, she felt so completely owned, cared for, cherished.

  His, in all ways.

  The fact that they had created a child together, someone to share their lives with. Oh God, life couldn’t possibly be this wonderful! She knew she was blessed, doing what she was meant to do. Being with the man she was meant to be with. He was made for her, and she for him.

  Then there were the times she still felt that dark lust take her over, and there seemed nothing that was too intense, too degrading, too objectifying for her. It was as if she’d fallen into a deep well of submission, and rather than try to scramble for the top, she just dove deeper. In so many ways, she knew they’d only begun exploring themselves, what they could be to each other, and what their future might hold.

  Together.

  Somehow, her pregnancy, her vulnerability, had enhanced the intimacy of sex in a way she couldn’t even express in words, the emotion of the act now even more profound, the strong arms of her husband around her as they became even closer.

  Once again, now more than ever.

  One.

  * * *

  He thought Kirsten was asleep until he heard her soft, sleepy whimper. Poor girl. It wasn’t the first time she’d nodded off in his arms. She couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position to sleep in, so often he’d hold her, pulling her up to lay back against his chest, just as she was doing at that very moment.

  She murmured something as he stroked his fingers through her hair, luxuriating in the feel of her soft tresses gliding over his skin.

  “You’re going to miss that, aren’t you?” Her voice was thick with fatigue.

  “Miss what?”

  “My hair.”

  “It’s not falling out when the baby comes is it?” He smiled against her hair. “That would be a shame…”

  Kirsten laughed, the sound attenuated by exhaustion.

  Keihl lowered a hand to the swell of her breast, circling a palm over the hard nipple. Kirsten sucked a breath through her teeth.

  “Too much?” He couldn’t resist her breasts, especially now, but he was always worried about hurting her.

 
; “No… not too much.” She wiggled her hips against his genitals. “Too good.”

  “Poor, Kirsten,” he murmured into her hair with a grin.

  “You’ll have to enjoy those while you can too.”

  He took a nipple between thumb and forefinger, squeezing and rolling it slowly. Kirsten hissed, her body shuddering.

  “God…”

  “You were saying, girl?”

  He loved distracting her that way, something both intimate and devastatingly effective. He’d already taken her before bed, but as she wiggled her bottom against his hardening cock once more, he suspected he’d need her again soon.

  Or you could, you know, let your wife sleep.

  “Once the baby’s weaned, I don’t even want to think about what’s going to happen to my boobs.”

  “Oh?”

  He had a pretty good idea what was going to happen to her boobs. It involved his mouth, his hands, and his cock. Not necessarily in that order, either.

  “Probably going to dry up like raisins.”

  “Joely’s didn’t, did they?”

  “You aren’t supposed to notice things like that.”

  Keihl snorted. “Asking men not to notice boobs is like asking gravity to stop working.”

  “Pig,” she said, giving his forearm a playful slap. “Hers didn’t — but she’s some kind of freak. Her sister though? She was a D cup before her pregnancy — and after nursing? A.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’m serious, Keihl. She joked that she was back to training bras at age thirty.”

  “I guess that just means she needs to have another—”

  Kirsten stiffened then, and she laid a hand over the crest of her belly.

  “Another one?”

  “Yeah,” she said, a strained note in her voice.

  “How far apart are they?”

  Tom had told them anything close to five minutes apart and regular, and it meant things could be changing from Braxton-Hicks to the real deal. Every time Kirsten had the odd contraction, it almost made his heart stop.

  Some tough guy you are, right?

  “I had one this afternoon, but it wasn’t as strong as this one.”