Chapter 43
Clarke unwrapped one of the Hershey's kisses candies Murphy had brought over and popped it into her mouth. "Mmm," she said, savoring the chocolate taste as it melted in her mouth. "I have to say, Murphy, you were the last person I expected to get kisses from on Valentine's Day."
"Well, feel honored," he said as he bent down behind his camera to do his videographer thing, probably checking to see if the lighting and angles and focus were right. "I've been told my kisses are delicious."
She made a face and shook her head.
"They are," he insisted, messing around with his camera for a moment before sitting down beside it and whipping out his phone, where he'd stored his questions for today's interview. "Okay, we're filming. What time do we need to be done?"
"No later than 3:00," she said. "I gotta have plenty of time to get ready for tonight. Bellamy's taking me out on a date."
"Real romantic shit, I bet," he muttered.
"Of course." Valentine's Day was commercial as fuck, but it was still a romantic holiday, one for couples. "Aren't you doing something nice for Raven?"
Murphy shrugged. "We usually just stay in. I give her a back massage, and she gives me . . ." He trailed off momentarily, then obviously lied when he finished up with, "A foot rub."
"I'm sure." Clarke wasn't one to judge, though. Hell, if she chickened out on the sexy stuff she had planned for Bellamy, a blow-job would suffice.
"Hey, when you've been together for a couple years, the novelty of Valentine's Day starts to wear off. It becomes more of a chore than anything else," Murphy said. "But I get why you and Bellamy are going all out. What is this, only your second Valentine's Day together?"
"Well . . . kind of," she replied. They'd managed to spend Valentine's Day together in high school, but this was the first one where they were free to spend it the way they wanted to.
...
While Raven excitedly chirped, "Here, come buy a balloon for someone special!" and ushered people over to the table, Clarke halfheartedly waved her deflated helium balloon around in the air, not saying anything.
"Come on, Clarke, turn that frown upside down," Raven urged her. "We're supposed to be selling stuff."
"Sorry," she apologized. "I guess I'm just not in the holiday mood." It didn't help that she'd been sitting out at this table for three class periods in a row, either. And now lunch. She was skipping lunch to sit out in the cafeteria and sell Valentine's Day crap.
"Well, you need to fake it better, because these balloons are paying for our state cheer hotel," Raven reminded her. "God knows the school won't do that, because we're 'not a sport.'" She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Whatever. Fuck the school. We can pay for ourselves."
Clarke wasn't about to say anything, but . . . she didn't need to fundraise. In fact, her parents could probably pay for every cheerleader's hotel expense at state. They hadn't offered, but she also hadn't asked. Raven wouldn't want to feel like a charity case, and she doubted any other girl on the squad would, either.
Zeke approached the table with his lunch tray in hand, stopped in front of Raven, and asked, "Can I buy a kiss?"
"Oh, you get that for free," she said, tilting her head back. He bent down and kissed her, and it was sort of . . . nauseatingly sweet.
Clarke felt so jealous. It just wasn't fair. Why was it okay for Raven and Zeke to be a couple, but it wasn't okay for her and Bellamy? Why was Raven's dad so chill about it while her mom and dad were so overprotective?
"For real, though, you should buy something," Raven told him. "For me."
"Maybe I already did." He smirked and headed off to his lunch table.
"You're such a good boyfriend," she called after him. Licking her lips as she watched him, she said, "God, Clarke, look at him. Isn't he cute?"
"He is," Clarke agreed.
"Such marriage material." Raven smiled.
"Whoa." Clarke wasn't surprised to hear her friend say that, but still . . . that was a leap going from Valentine's Day balloons to a wedding ring.
"What? I'm just saying . . . we're gonna be together forever," Raven stated confidently. "I know the stats don't bode well for high school sweethearts, but Zeke and I are gonna last."
Were there actually any stats for that sort of thing? If there were, Clarke didn't care to look them up. It was probably just discouraging.
"And I'm sure you and Bellamy will, too," Raven added. Looking around the lunchroom, she asked, "Where is he, by the way?"
"Serving his in-school suspension," Clarke answered. He wasn't allowed out of the office all day.
"Oh. When's yours?"
"Monday." She wasn't looking forward to it. But at least she'd have time to get some drawing done.
"I know you got caught, but I kind of love that you guys just took off like that," Raven said. "It's very Bonnie and Clyde. You know, without the bank robberies."
"And the murder spree," Clarke added.
"I mean it, though, you know. You guys are gonna make it."
For a second, Clarke let herself picture that, a relationship with Bellamy that didn't have to end when the summer did, but she had to erase the fantasy from her mind as quickly as it appeared. "Thanks for saying that, but . . . I knew what I was getting into when I started seeing him," she said.
Raven frowned. "What do you mean?"
Clarke knew she and her best friend had talked about this, but it'd been months ago, and Raven had probably assumed that something had changed. "We're not gonna do the long distance thing," Clarke told her. "When he leaves for college . . . that's it. It's over."
Raven actually laughed. "Yeah, right."
"I'm serious." She'd been bracing herself for the break-up for a while now, because when it happened, she wanted to be ready for it. That way, it wouldn't devastate her. "Neither one of us expects anything more. That's why we've just been trying to make the most out of the time we have." Of course, her mother's restrictions were making that extremely difficult.
"But Bellamy's never been with a girl as long as he's been with you," Raven said, turning her whole body towards Clarke. "And he's never fallen so hard. You're . . . you're special to him."
Maybe she was, but . . . that didn't mean . . . that wasn't enough to . . . "Yeah, we're really into each other," Clarke said, pausing to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, "but we both knew it wasn't gonna last forever."
Raven's frown returned, and this time, it intensified. "So . . . what, when the time comes, you're just gonna let him go?"
Clarke knew it wasn't going to be easy, but what was she supposed to do, get all clingy and beg him to stay with her, even though he'd be onto bigger and better things? Even though he'd be surrounded by beautiful girls in college? Even though he'd be miles and miles away? "Yeah," she said, feeling like, as hard as it would be to let him go, it'd be easier than trying to hold on.
The look on Raven's face was an incredulous one. "Why would you?" she said, shaking her head. Before she could say anything else, though, someone approached the table to buy a balloon, and like the relentless cheerleader she was, she put a smile on her face and got back into saleswoman mode.
Clarke just sat there, feeling as deflated as the balloon in her hand. It wasn't going to be possible to get Raven to understand that she didn't want to let Bellamy go; she had to.
...
The Valentine's Day talk had caused Murphy to deviate from his questions, but he started in on them after Clarke got done griping that her mom had forbidden her from attending the Sweetheart Dance sophomore year, all in the name of her last-ditch effort to keep her and Bellamy apart.
"Alright, so I know the last time we sat down, you said the in-between years aren't as important," he said, "but I can't help but think that's probably when you realized you were in love with him. Am I right?"
That question was a lot . . . bigger than the other ones had been. What she'd felt for Bellamy during all these years without him . . . it was something she'd tried not to dwell on, but also something she'd never been able to ignore. That was why it hadn't worked out between her and Lexa, and why she'd settled for Finn for two years. She'd tried really hard to just move on, but it'd never worked. "Yeah," she said. "It, uh . . . it wasn't too long after he'd left that I started to realize . . . just how much I missed him." She thought back to the nights that she'd cried herself to sleep, muffling the sounds in her pillow so her mom and dad wouldn't hear. "And it was like there was this ache in my heart. I didn't wanna go out on dates with anyone else. I didn't wanna . . . I didn't want another boyfriend. I just wanted to pick up the phone to call him."
Murphy set his phone down, seemingly abandoning any other pre-planned questions, and eyeballed her curiously as he posed the next logical one. "So why didn't you?"
She'd come close. There had been nights when, after the tears had subsided, she'd picked up the phone and stared at his name on the screen for a long, long time. "He had his own thing going on," she said. "The college thing. I didn't wanna be a nuisance."
"But didn't you think he'd wanna hear from you?"
Maybe he would have. In fact, knowing what she knew now about his feelings, she knew he would have. But back then, she hadn't known, and she hadn't wanted to assume and get her hopes up. "I didn't wanna jeopardize what he was doing there," she said.
"Why would just talking to you jeopardize anything?"
"Well, I was—I was worried he'd come back if . . ." She trailed off, feeling like she wasn't doing a good job of explaining. But it was hard to explain why she'd felt the way she had and why she'd done the things she did back then. It'd been a complicated time in her life, to say the least. "I just didn't wanna get in the way of his football dreams," she said.
Murphy nodded slowly, narrowed his eyes, then said, "So . . . knowing what you know now, and knowing that he didn't end up playing college football for more than a year, is there any part of you that wishes he'd come back sooner?"
She didn't . . . she didn't resent him if was what he was asking. But selfishly . . . "Well, yeah, of course I . . . I wish we hadn't missed out on all those years," she confessed. "But at the time, I wasn't . . . I had a lot of other stuff going on, and I started college myself, and it's probably better that we both took time to grow and mature before getting back together."
Murphy looked like he wanted to keep questioning her about it, but she didn't want to talk about any more of her time apart from Bellamy. That wasn't even what this film of his was supposed to be about. "Can we talk about how we got back together instead?" she asked him, eager to move the conversation forward. "Because that's kind of the best part."
...
There was this little restaurant at the end of Main Street that had gone through many changes over the years. Bellamy first remembered it being called Lily's when he was growing up, and back then it'd been the kind of place to serve stick-to-your-ribs Midwestern meals. But then sometime when he'd been in junior high, someone else had bought it out and renamed it Seawise and practically had ruined the place's reputation with all that awful seafood. There had been a Chinese food phase towards the end of high school, and he'd heard that it had changed owners several times in the past couple of years, too. Right now, it was called Little Italy, and as the name suggested, it was all about the Italian food. Bellamy figured he couldn't go wrong with pasta on Valentine's Day, and apparently a lot of other guys had come to the same conclusion, because the place was packed with couples.
He got full before Clarke did and couldn't even finish everything on his plate. But she could, no problem. She even asked the waiter for more breadsticks and a dessert menu.
"So is it good?" he asked, watching her devour . . . everything.
"Yeah, it's really good," she said, twisting the spaghetti noodles around her fork. "We'll have to come here again."
Fine by him. The food was decent and the restaurant was nice. Plus, he needed to take her out on more dates, especially before the baby was born.
The gift he'd given her when he'd gotten home dangled from her slim wrist, a gold bracelet that he'd had engraved with the word Princess. It was a little big, but not to the point where it was falling off. And she really seemed to have liked it. "That bracelet looks nice on you," he told her.
"I love it," she said, smiling at him. "Good gift."
Yeah, it wasn't bad. But still . . . he felt like he could have gotten her more.
When he heard a squeal of excitement, he looked over to the other side of the restaurant, where another young couple was dining at a table for two. Except food seemed to be the last thing on their minds, because in the girl's hand was a small box. Crying happily, she nodded and kept saying ,"Yes," over and over again. Her boyfriend reached across the table and slid the ring onto her finger.
"I think that girl likes her gift, too," Bellamy said.
Clarke followed his gaze in that direction and said, "Aww," as the couple leaned across the table and kissed. A few people around them clapped and offered them their congratulations, but the girl was crying so many happy tears that she could barely even get a coherent "thank you" out.
"I bet a lot of people get engaged on Valentine's Day," Clarke said.
"Yeah." He returned his attention to her, just her, while she kept looking over to the other side of the restaurant. What's she thinking? he wondered. Was she envious? Did she want that to be her? Or was she not even thinking about herself at all?
I could ask her, he thought, feeling a surge of courage. I could ask her right now. "Clarke . . ."
Slowly, she tore her eyes away from the newly-engaged couple and met his again.
Hell, what was he thinking? He didn't even have a ring yet. And he couldn't very well ask her to marry him right after some other couple had just gotten engaged. He couldn't take anything away from their moment. So he covered it up with, "You got some . . ." and motioned to the small speckle of marinara sauce on her chin.
Wiping it away, she mumbled, "God, I'm such a pig," and then resumed eating.
And I'm such an idiot, he thought. It was time to sit down and form an actual plan for popping the question to Clarke. Because it wasn't something he'd get a second chance at, so he had to make sure it was perfect and everything she'd ever hoped it would be. Maybe the restaurant proposal had worked for that couple over there, but when he asked Clarke to marry him, he wanted it to be just the two of them. More intimate, more private.
Clarke enjoyed the hell out of chocolate mousse for dessert before they left and headed home. She put on a big show about feeling so tired, but her eyes gave her away. They had a frisky, mischievous look in them, so it was no surprise that they headed straight upstairs to the bedroom once they arrived home.
"Now I get to give you my present," she said, taking off her jacket. Well, it was actually his jacket, but it looked better on her.
"Ooh. I'm intrigued," he said.
"You should be." She stepped out of her shoes as well, and reached behind her back to pull down the zipper of her dress. "I had hoped to wear a sexy costume, of course," she said, "but as it turns out, they don't really make Cupid outfits for pregnant people."
"That's okay." Screw the Cupid outfit. As long as she got naked at some point tonight, he was happy.
She walked across the room, opened up one of the dresser drawers, and rummaged around for a few seconds for . . . props? They were using props now? When she spun back around, she had a cheap-looking plastic bow and arrow in her hand. "But I did get this!" she revealed, aiming it at him. She tried to fire one of the arrows, but it went about three inches and dropped on the floor. "Oh, wait," she said, bending down to pick it up. But she couldn't do that with her belly in the way. "Dammit."
"Here, I got it," he said, retrieving it for her. He pretended to stab it into his chest and played along. "Oh, right in the heart."
She laughed and exclaimed, "You've been hit! By Cupid's arrow."
"Ah, I got hit a long time ago," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. It was definitely a lot harder to put his arms around her these days, but not impossible.
"Mmm," she murmured, looping her arms around his neck, "you're gonna get lucky."
"I sense that."
"No, I mean . . . really lucky," she emphasized.
Well, that sounded promising, but he didn't want his mind to run too wild with ideas, so he asked, "Meaning?""
"Meaning . . . remember that New Year's resolution you made?"
His heart almost stopped. "No way." The anal sex one? He sure as hell hadn't forgotten about it, but he'd kind of assumed she had.
Slipping away from his embrace, she went over to the nightstand, pulled open the drawer, and took out a small bottle of lube. The Astroglide. That was the good stuff. "I think you're gonna need some of this," she said, tossing it to him.
He was so excited, he almost didn't even catch it. "Are you serious?"
"Yep," she said, grinning. "Just let me take a shower first." And with that, she was off, into the bathroom, shutting the door. He heard the water start to run a few minutes later, and at that point, he was still standing there like a deer caught in the headlights. Like a very horny, very perverted deer whose favorite holiday was suddenly Valentine's Day.
Bellamy got undressed in a hurry, turned his phone off so there would be no interruptions, and lubed his dick up generously. The last time he and Clarke had done this, she'd ended up in tears, and they'd stopped in the middle of it because it was hurting her so much. He didn't want a repeat of that.
Go slow, Bellamy reminded himself, cycling through his mental archive of every anal sex guide he'd ever read online. Talk her through it. Play with her clit. There were a lot of things he'd neglected to do back in high school, because he'd made the mistake of using porn as his educational material. But real anal sex was different than that, and he'd been an idiot to ever think it would be like in the movies.
When Clarke emerged from the bathroom, her skin still had droplets of water on it. Her short hair was halfway up, and only the tips of it appeared to be wet. She had a white towel wrapped around herself, but almost immediately, she let it fall to the floor. "Now I know last time we did this, I was a little . . . emotional," she acknowledged.
"And I was inexperienced," he admitted.
She swayed towards him, big belly and all, her eyes focused on his erection. "But I know what to expect now," she said.
He stroked himself, adding, "And I've had a lot more practice."
She stopped right in front of him and folded her arms. "Define a lot."
"Just a handful of girls."
Raising a suspicious eyebrow, she pressed on with, "Define a handful."
"I don't know, I'd have to check my list." Did they still have that thing?
"Oh, god, never mind then." She smoothed her hands up his chest, once again draping them over his shoulders, and moved in as close to him as her stomach would allow.
"But hey, you'll always be the first girl I ever did this with," he reminded her, putting his hands on her waist.
"True." That got her to smile. Despite his plethora of sexual experiences before hooking up with her, they had this one thing that had been a first for both of them. And it always would be.
"So, uh . . ." He kind of didn't want to ask, but curiosity and all that. "Did you ever do this with Finn?"
"No," she said, much to his relief. "But Lexa . . ."
"Lexa?" His mind immediately ventured to filthy places. "What, like with a strap-on?"
Clarke blushed.
"That's so hot," he said.
"You're such a guy right now," she said, laughing.
"But when it comes to . . . you know. A real dick. During anal sex," he said. "Still just me?"
Smirking, she nodded.
"Oh, yeah," he said, feeling boastful. "Just me." He loved that Clarke had never tried this with Finn. He really, really loved that. Although it kind of made him feel bad about doing it with other girls over the years.
"So, you say you know what you're doing now?" she said, removing the ponytail holder from her hair.
"Uh-huh. I'll make it good," he promised her.
"Will you make me cum?"
He didn't want to make promises he couldn't keep, though, so he answered honestly. "I'll try to." It wasn't impossible. He happened to know that for a fact. "What do you like to do to warm up?"
"Well, fingers are always good," she said. "With lots of lube. And tongue's okay as long as I've showered first."
"Which you have." God, she smelled so good. Floral body wash. Very indicatively Clarke.
"And just don't do the real thing until I tell you I'm ready," she said.
"Got it." Communication was key. He wasn't going to screw this up. "And we can stop whenever you feel like it."
"We're not gonna stop," she said, shaking her head. Then she kissed him and murmured against his lips, "I love you, Bellamy."
"I love you, too." He kissed her again, momentarily flashing back to their first kiss. In the boy's locker room of all places. And now they were here, in their home, their bedroom. They'd come a long way.
They stood next to the bed, hands and arms moving all over each other, mouths mingling for several minutes before Clarke made the first move to get in a logical position. Pregnancy was . . . not ideal for this. Most of the time, he liked to have girls just lie flat on their stomachs, and he'd fuck them from behind. But Clarke obviously couldn't do that right now, so they were going to have to try something else. He figured he'd let her choose, and when she crawled up onto the bed and stayed on all fours, he certainly didn't complain.
"Is this good?" she asked, peering over her shoulder.
His mouth felt dry, but he managed to get a "Yeah," out. This was . . . so far beyond good. Clarke had a great ass. Despite how much time he spent thinking about her breasts—who could blame him for that? They were so . . . bouncy—there wasn't a single part of her body that didn't drive him wild with desire.
She moved up towards the headboard, pressing her hands into the pillows, and teasingly asked, "Well, what're you waiting for? Get up here."
He literally shook himself out of his stupor and climbed up behind her on the bed, grabbing hold of her hips, positioning his cock in the crack of her ass. He slid it up and down, getting a sense of just how much lube he was going to need to make this as comfortable as possible for her.
"You're gonna fuck that," she tempted him in a song-like voice, craning her neck back and smiling.
"Yeah." Was that the only word he could say anymore? Had he lost all his other vocabulary? He must not have, because when she suggested that he finger her, he said, "Okay."
Getting Clarke's asshole to open up was a different process than when he fingered her pussy. During normal sex, he'd usually use two fingers right from the start, and if she was wet enough, which she often was, then lube wasn't even a necessity. But he didn't dare try to stick anything up her butt without applying a heaping amount of lube first. He squirted it onto his hands, then rubbed it onto her skin, thoroughly coating her hole and the surrounding area. By the time he was done, both of the soft, round globes of her ass were glistening, and she looked even more gorgeous than before.
"You ready?" he asked, using his index finger to apply some light pressure to her opening.
She nodded wordlessly, but then said, "Yes," as if she'd remembered how important it was to talk during this.
Slowly, he pushed his finger inside her, watching in amazement as she opened up and accepted him. It had to feel kind of strange, especially since, if she hadn't done this since Lexa, she hadn't done it in years. The sharp hiss of air she drew in made him stop when he was only up to his second knuckle. He didn't bother to put any more of his finger in and instead concentrated on pumping just half of its length in and out of her. Not too quickly, not too slowly. Enough for her to really feel it and get used to it.
Eventually, she moaned. That was a good sign.
He decided to use his thumb to stimulate her pussy, too. She didn't seem to be expecting that, because her whole body tensed up for a second, and her asshole clenched around his finger. But soon, she relaxed again, letting him touch her in both places. And she seemed to like it, because when he looked up at her face, he saw that she was smiling dazedly and definitely getting lost in the sensation.
If only he could have touched her all over. Everywhere at once.
Since one finger was hardly comparable to his cock, he knew he had to put another one in. But he was so worried about hurting her that he hesitated, nearly pulling his index finger all the way out as his middle finger hovered around her entrance.
"What're you doing?" she asked him.
Not sure, he thought. Dammit, he wasn't used to being anything less than an expert in the sack.
"Bellamy?" Her voice was soft, encouraging.
She wants this, he reminded himself. He wasn't doing anything to her that she hadn't already assured him he could do. "I'm gonna give you another one," he said, inserting a second finger, stretching her further.
Instead of a moan this time, she groaned. That blissful look on her face changed into more of a look of concentration. It didn't seem like it was hurting her, but he could tell that she definitely felt a difference.
With his two fingers now lodged securely inside her, he used his free hand to massage her thigh, the small of her back, and her ass itself. He wanted to make her feel appreciated and adored, because she was definitely doing this for him more than for herself, and he loved her so much for that. There were girls who weren't even willing to try this, which was fine, but here Clarke was doing it while she was pregnant.
"Are you doin' alright?" he asked her, twisting and turning his fingers around a bit. He couldn't move them much. It was a tight squeeze.
"Yeah, I'm good," she answered breathily. "I want you to fuck me."
"I am," he said, managing to push his fingers in a little deeper, past the second knuckle. She was opening up for him.
"No," she said. "I mean really."
"Really?" He was so distracted, he was losing track of the conversation. But he had to remind himself to focus on what she was saying. That was so important right now. So important.
"With your cock," she said, peeking at him over her shoulder. "Put it in me, Bellamy."
As distracting as the sight of his fingers up her ass was, dirty talk like that got his full attention. The things Clarke said in bed were so fucking sexy, especially when she got a little more graphic like that.
"You want it in?" he teased, slowly withdrawing his fingers. Her hole closed right up again, and he felt compelled to add a little more lube. Just in case.
"Just do it," she said, wriggling her hips from side to side.
He gladly would have gone down on her and gotten his tongue in on the action, if that was what she'd wanted, but she seemed ready. And since his dick felt like it was throbbing and was practically defying gravity as it stuck out from his body, he was ready, too.
Just as he was about to position himself at her rear entrance, she said, "Wait," and that made him worry that she'd changed her mind about all of this. But all he had to do was wait while she moved forward a bit to grab hold of the headboard with one hand. "Okay, now you can," she told him.
Moving forward on his knees, he grabbed her hips, pulling her backside towards him, once again rubbing himself up and down the crack of her ass. If he did that for too long, though, he'd just spill his load right there; so he had to stop, grab hold of his dick with one hand, and line it up with her asshole. Hoping and praying he'd done things right and that the foreplay he'd given her had been enough, he pushed forward, finding it necessary to be a bit more forceful than when he entered her pussy. If he didn't push hard, he wasn't gonna get in.
She breathed in sharply as he penetrated her, and it seemed like she held her breath for several seconds as her body stretched for him. He didn't stop at the head of his cock, because he knew that wasn't the goal. The goal was full-on sex, and that required more of him to be inside her. So he pushed forward until he heard her whimper, and then he stopped.
"You alright?" he asked, checking in again.
"Uh-huh," she said, but her brows were furrowed, her eyes shut. It looked like she was . . . adjusting. And however long that took was fine with him. Because just the mere feeling of this, of being surrounded by Clarke in this way . . . it made Bellamy feel like his whole body was about to explode. He needed to take a moment to adjust, too, otherwise this would be over before it'd even started.
"Is it all the way in?" she asked him.
He looked down, shaking his head even though she couldn't see him do that. "No," he said. "We can try more, if you . . ."
"Yeah," she said, her voice a lusty whisper. "Do more."
"Are you sure?" It was already so tight.
"Yeah," she said. When he didn't move, she pressed her hips back a bit, and more of his cock slid in.
"Oh, fuck," he swore. He wasn't balls deep or anything, and he didn't have any intention of giving her that much tonight. But the lube was definitely doing what it was supposed to, and she was doing a good job of keeping her muscles relaxed. To watch himself disappear in her, in this part of her . . . he felt so god-damn lucky.
"Come on, Bellamy," she spurred him on, swiveling her hips around seductively. She was definitely ready for him to start moving.
My girl wants to fuck, he thought as he began . . . well, fucking her. He found a steady rhythm right from the start, nothing too animalistic or aggressive. He wanted her to revel in the feel of every inch of him, just as the way he was reveling in the feel of her. Holding onto her hips allowed him to control the movement, the depth of his penetration and the pace of his thrusts. He liked to watch himself sliding into her, but sometimes that made him feel like he was going to cum. So whenever that happened, he had to squeeze his eyes shut and remind himself that this was all about her. At least it was in his mind. Maybe she thought it was all about him.
"That feels so . . ." She trailed off, moaning again, and he wondered what she'd been planning to say. Good? Hopefully it felt so good? Different? He'd settle for different. After all, it felt different for him, too. Despite being tighter, there was just a different texture to anal sex, and more friction even with all the lube in play.
"Oh, god, yes." Her words were spilling out now, one on top of the other. "Oh, Bellamy . . ."
He was such a sucker for hearing his name during sex that he couldn't help but start to move his hips a bit quicker. His skin started to slap against hers, and the cheeks of her ass actually moved.
Don't fucking cum yet, he told himself, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head as he tried to hold off. Dammit, he wanted her to get off on this so bad.
Her one hand still gripped the headboard tightly, so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. And her other hand was squeezing one of their pillows so hard, it looked like she might tear it open. It had to be feeling good, otherwise she would have told him to stop. But even if she was liking it, he felt like it wouldn't be possible to get her to cum by fucking her ass alone. So he bent forward, put his arms down on either side of her, and growled into her ear, "Sit up."
"What?" she gasped.
"Sit up," he repeated, bringing one arm up to wrap around her huge, heavy breasts. Then he leaned back again, lifting her with him this time, his hips stilling so he could make sure he stayed inside of her.
"Oh . . ." she moaned, reaching out for the headboard with both hands now.
The change in position made things feel even tighter than before, and he felt his balls drawing up. Shit, he thought. Not yet. It was still too soon.
He had to put the pause on his thrusts just so he could recollect himself, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she smiled and seemed to love the way he squeezed her breasts with one hand and rubbed her belly with the other. Although he really hoped the baby was asleep or something, because she was way too young to know about anal anything.
When he snaked his hand down the underside of her belly and in between her legs, Clarke gasped loudly and threw her head back against his shoulder. Her hair was already damp, either with water or sweat or some combination of the two, and all of her skin seemed to just heat up as he played with her clit. Her breathing became louder, more labored, and her ass clenched down around his cock.
"You like that?" he whispered into her ear.
Suddenly, it was as if she were the one who'd lost her vocabulary, because all she could create were sounds, not words. But those sounds said so much. They said that she was completely caught up in this, that she was loving it, and that she was getting closer, too.
It was a risk putting something in her pussy while he was already in her ass, but he just had this feeling that she'd like it. So he stuck one finger up there, and her whole body shuddered, and she started to rock back and forth. The knowledge that she could feel him in both places right now, technically double-penetrating her, spurred him on, and he started fucking her with his cock again, going deeper than he'd anticipated he'd be able to. His balls slapped against her ass, and she arched her back while keeping her head on his shoulder. He was pretty sure she'd fall forward without him holding her up, so he held on tight.
"You feel so good," he told her, his words blending together. "Your ass feels so fucking good."
"Uh . . ." she groaned.
Yeah, that's it, he thought. If words turned him on, they could turn her on, too. He'd already decided that he was going to make her cum, so it wasn't a question of whether or not it was happening. It was a question of how. If it took a combination of his cock, his fingers, and his words to get her off, he'd gladly use all three. And then he'd still have something to work towards with her: a strictly-anal orgasm.
"Bellamy," she choked out. "Please."
"Please what?" Like he didn't know.
"Make me cum," she whimpered. She sounded so . . . desperate. And in a way, he liked that, because it was completely up to him to make her feel good.
"I got you," he promised her, thrusting faster, really doing her now, the way she wanted to be done. Hard. Passionately. Without restraint. What had started out as some slow lovemaking had escalated into . . . this. And he loved this.
He withdrew his finger from her wet pussy so he could concentrate on rubbing her clit, and that seemed to do the trick. The sounds she made intensified even more, mixing in with her heavy breathing, and he was pretty sure he heard her say, "I'm gonna cum," right before she actually did. And it wasn't a small orgasm, either. It really rattled through her. She shook and spasmed and just completely lost herself in it, and it was amazing. She even squirted a bit, right there on his hand, which was sexy as hell.
As usual, when she got off, so did he. It took nothing more than watching and feeling her orgasm to trigger his own. He spent himself in her ass, and that was quite the powerful climax, too. He wondered if she could feel him cum in there the way she could feel it in her pussy. Well, she always said she could feel it in her pussy, anyway. But maybe she was just stroking his ego.
Neither one of them managed to stay upright after they got off, but Bellamy stayed right behind Clarke as they lay down on their sides. His cock slipped out of her, and part of him wanted to be an even bigger voyeur and spread her cheeks open to see if his cum was staying inside or seeping out. But Clarke's whole body had practically gone limp. Her hair had gone from damp to drenched, and she was probably exhausted. So he just curled up behind her, holding her close, making the most of this chance at cuddling with her since she'd inevitably still snuggle up with her pregnancy pillow tonight.
"You did so good," he murmured, kissing her shoulder.
"You, too," she said, smiling again. "So much better than last time."
"So much better," he agreed, resting his head on the pillow, feeling quite tired himself now. That had been . . . a workout.
"That was a good New Year's resolution," she said as her eyes closed.
"And a good Valentine's Day gift," he added, draping his arm over her midsection. "Best ever."
"Best ever," she agreed, sounding like she was about to fall asleep any second.
God, I love you so much, Princess, he thought, breathing her in as he lay with her, as a feeling of contentedness washed over him. Next year on Valentine's Day, whether they went out to eat again or just stayed inside and did this all night long, she'd know exactly how much she meant to him and exactly how much he loved her. Because next year, she'd be his wife.
