mine {h.s.} | {b3}

CHAPTER SIX

— CHAPTER SIX —

december, year one.

Sex while pregnant is not something that grows easier. If anything, it just grows increasingly harder as the bump on my stomach grows. Such a thing becomes unfortunate with the corresponding increase in my sex drive. Each passing month—presently, the seventh—results in a heightened sex drive to impossible ends. The only fortunate piece is that, for me, Harry has been exceptionally accommodating and equally as explorative as I have been in the bedroom.

"Good morning, kid," Harry rasps, his voice deep and grumbling.

Morning sex has also become a staple to our relationship. Awake and waiting, I dare to drop a hand between his legs. His erection is prominent between the both of us. Something bordering a whine parts from his lips upon the pressure. "Looks like you're ready," I press a kiss to his chest before taking my time in turning around. More recently, our favorite position has become one in which we are laying side-by-side and he takes me that way. It requires little strain on me, but maximum stimulation for the both of us.

"Sounds like you are, too," he hums, reaching over to the bedside table and grabbing a small tube of lube. Before, it was never really something that we used. During the pregnancy, I suggested it and found that it was amazing at being able to reform our bedroom experience.

Spreading it along my folds, I shiver at the feeling of his fingers.

In no time at all, he is pressing himself into me. A sigh of content pushes from my own lips now, my back pressing against his front as I clutch the material of the sheets between my hands. He braces himself on my hip, taking precautions not to press too fiercely on the growing expanse of my stomach as he thrusts in and out rhythmically. At first, he had been scared to engage in sex with me this late in my pregnancy. Once I assured him that it would disturb me more than the baby—and not even me all that much—he grew an increasingly more willing participant. "Feel so good, Gray." Broken sentences push from his lips as he wakes himself up inside of me. "You're so good for me."

Over the past few months, I've grown to be sexually insatiable. Hornier than I have ever been in my life before, I can't get enough of his hands on me. I can't get enough of him inside me. A second honey-moon period has reignited between us, falling in love all over again upon the aftermath of our second wedding.

Light, morning kisses press against my skin; down my shoulder, over the curve of my back, and on the top of my head. Anywhere that his lips can reach at this angle is in his domain. Love and affection are his language and he is fluent. Compliments fly from his lips, eager to reach my ears and assure me of the love that he has spent the past five years of his life trying to instill in me.

My fingers squeeze on top of his where they splay on my body. A thin line of sweat connects the both of us as he continues to thrust in and out of me with his rhythmic consistency. "Just like that, baby," I gasp, one hand squeezing in the pillows as I cry out for him. Having him like this is something that I doubt if I will ever grow used to: uninhibited and fresh. First thing in the morning, having him there beside me is the best feeling in the world. Having his baby inside me while he still continues to love me. While I continue in my journey to both loving myself and the world around me.

Until my love with Harry, I had never truly known the extent that love could grow. I find it welcoming and full of all of the love that I'd ever been robbed of as a child. By no means do I believe that there is a sort of cap to the amount of love that a single person can feel in a lifetime. But, if such a thing does exist, I wonder whether I will meet the entirety of my quota in Harry's arms. I do not know how I could feel anymore love in the world than this. Such love would be unimaginable and unquantifiable.