Being Their Baby Read Online Free

shoulders still pinned to the rug, she dragged herself up to her knees so that her bottom was up and presented for his taking.
    She felt the wide mushroom-head of his cock rub up and down her damp entrance. “Mmm, yeah. Nice and ready. You like this,” he rumbled heatedly. Charlie was the nicest person on the planet, but he did have a rougher side, and he loved dirty talk.
    “Fuck me already,” she gritted.
    “I want you begging a little better than that. It’s sounding to my ears like you’re giving me orders . That’s not how we roll, is it? Now, tell me how much you want my cock in your pussy.” He tightened his grip on her wrists and pushed her body more into the rug with his elbow.
    “Fuck my pussy, Charlie. Hard… Please ,” she added at the end, knowing he would tease her for a century until she finally said ‘please.’
    With a firm push, he slid his entire length roughly into her, making her both moan and gasp at the same time. He moved his hands to her hips and slammed her bottom against his groin again and again. He was swearing at her; calling her a whore, a slut, a “cum dumpster,” and she was loving it. She was always surprised that she did, but she did. Especially when she was feeling a little out of control within her life, she liked to be degraded a bit in bed. It was sexy and taboo for her; it was different from the nearly comical levels of praise she received everywhere else.
    He put his hands back up to her nipples and pulled at them. She moaned loudly, chirping with pain and delight at the same time. “Don’t you dare cum,” he said. She never knew what a man felt during sex, but he must have felt something like she did; he must have felt her building close to her release. “I want to fuck this pussy until you cry. Don’t cum.”
    Defiantly, she came anyway.
    “Fuck!” he growled as her muscles milked him over and over until he began to expand and contract. He wasn’t humping her now; he had stopped in a last-ditch effort. There was no stopping once he started, though. Defeated, he began to pull her hips back again, cumming deep into her, filling her with his liquid warmth.
    He nipped at her shoulder, falling slightly on top of her, yet keeping his weight off of her body with his arms on each on each side. “You’re such a brat, you know that?” he chuckled behind her. “I was ready for a marathon!”
    “Hey, it wasn’t me tugging on the nips,” she replied casually, less than sorry.
    He rolled over to her side and put an arm under her, and she let her body meld against his naked body and chest.
    She combed her fingers through his light layer of chest hair. “Should we move it to bed?”
    “No. It’s only midnight on a Thursday,” he protested. “We’re thirty-two, not eighty.”
    She giggled. “Should we move it to the sofa, then?”
    He raised his head off the ground, looked over at the sofa, appraised it, and then groaned. “Nah,” he said, dropping his head back against the fuzzy faux-fur rug. “Too far.”
    “It’s two feet away,” she reminded.
    “Exactly. Two feet too far.” He took a deep breath. “Liz? Marry me.” He wasn’t asking—he was just stating it like it’d be a fun thing to do together, like going to get ice cream.
    “We are married, honey,” Liz reminded. “Just informally.”
    “Well, let’s make it formal ,” he retorted, surely knowing she’d say no, and she did. She’d been saying ‘no’ since he first suggested they get married when they were eighteen. Then at nineteen. Then after he won his first national title when he was twenty, then again after he graduated college, again when she graduated law school, and then pretty much whenever he felt like it after that. “I’d keep it open,” he assured with a snort of frustration. “You could date other people. I just wouldn’t. I’m never going to do the daddy thing again—with anyone.”
    “That’s what you always say,” she said, and it was. Lacey wasn’t the