The rykers
The evening light, soft as a sigh, gilded the curve of my swollen belly as I sought his gaze. My fingers traced the line of his jaw, a silent plea spoken through trembling touch, and he answered by drawing me close against the solid warmth of his chest. The world narrowed to this quiet room, to the scent of his skin and the sound of our shared, unsteady breaths. A deep, aching need bloomed within me, a current of pure longing that made my entire body feel flushed and alive. I guided his hand, letting his palm rest where our child grew, feeling the profound connection of our love made manifest. His eyes, dark with emotion, held mine as he slowly joined with me, a perfect and gentle fit that felt like coming home. Every movement was a whispered promise, a slow, rhythmic dance that built a delicious tension coiling deep inside. My senses were overwhelmed by the feeling of our togetherness, a melting intimacy that left me breathless and clinging to him. A soft, helpless cry escaped my lips as a wave of intense pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and utterly spent in his arms. He held me afterwards, his forehead tenderly resting against mine, our hearts beating a frantic, slowing rhythm in the peaceful, hushed dark.
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