Free Something Blue by Ella James Page A

starting to writhe around like a crazy woman, stroking my fingertips along his hips, about to come, he lifts me up—he’s still inside me—and carries me into the living room, where he lays me down on the fluffy rug, pulls out of me, turns me over on all fours, and, after a quick rub of his finger through my moisture thrusts into me from behind.
    “Oh…Hunter!”
    He finds a rhythm and gives my backside a squeeze. “My baby mama is hot. I love this big ass.”
    I look over my shoulder, still panting and about to come, even as I say, “It’s not big!” But okay—it kind of is. I’ve been eating a lot since finding out about the baby, and I’m a naturally curvy girl.
    “I love every inch of it.” He rubs a finger over my bud, as much rear play as he can get from me these days. When I give a nice, loud groan, he reaches around and slides his fingers through my lips, fingering my slit while continuing to pound me from behind.
    I start panting harder, and he hesitates.
    “Hunter! The baby is fine!”
    I clench myself around his dick, and his attention returns to me.
    Another minute or two of hard, fast thrusts, and Hunter’s fingers writhing around my most sensitive spot, and I shout. He grunts, then groans, then pulls out. He scoops me up and carries me to the sunken tub in the en suite master bath, then sets me down on a soft, red rug and leans around me to start the faucet.
    He grabs a bottle of bubble bath, pours a little in, and then lifts me into the deliciously warm water.
    While I sigh, he grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator under the counter—just one of the random perks of hanging out in a brothel cottage. He opens it, gives me a sip, chugs down much of the rest of it, and climbs into the tub beside me.
    My eyes rove over his flawless body as he pulls me into his lap.
    Under my butt, his dick is hard.
    “Again?” I grin, and turn around so I can see his face. He’s smirking. I laugh.
    “I bet you wouldn’t do me again, even if I begged.”
    He arches his brows. “You’re in a delicate condition, remember?”
    I reach behind me and stroke him up and down. “Really delicate. Too bad.”
    He shifts me off his lap, into the rising bubbles, and scoops a tiny handful of them up and sits them on the tip of my nose.
    “Don’t try me, woman. You’re the one who told me we can’t fuck in the tub.”
    “Yeah, I guess they do say that…”
    He arches his brows, and I splash him. “You’re hot, okay? And my vagina is a sex machine.”
    “It’s my machine, and I intend to start it up again...” His hand grazes over my thigh. Then he smiles and says, “Okay, okay. I’ll think about baseball.”
    “Me too.” I take another sip of water and slide off his knee to sit beside him, so we’re shoulder to shoulder. Totally cozy. Totally perfect. “How was your day?” I ask.
    He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to him, so our hips and butts and thighs are touching.
    “How was yours?” he counters.
    I’m not sure what he’s avoiding, but I supply him with my deets anyway. “It was pretty good. I had my last dress fitting with the seamstress and sampled some wine. How was the poker game?”
    He smiles, a little tiredly. “Not bad. Missed you, though.”
    I kiss his shoulder. “Missed you, too. So, there’s another semi-final tomorrow?”
    He nods. “Yep.” His hand starts to knead my shoulder, and he looks down at the water. After a few minutes, just sitting there with his jaw clenched, he says, “I’m not sure what to do about my dad and sister.”
    He can’t decide if he wants them at the wedding or not.
    “Want to flip a coin?”
    “Maybe.”
    If you ask me, he shouldn’t invite them, especially his dad, but for some reason he’s kind of hung up on the decision.
    I lean up and kiss his lips, because we’ve talked about this more than once, and I’m not sure what I can say that would help. He pulls me onto his lap, spins me so I’m straddling him, and