She pulled off my fingers with a wet pop. Her eyes were glassy. "I hate you," she whispered. But her hips were grinding back against my cock. Her pussy was leaking. Her nipples — I could see them through the loosened breastplate — were hard, pressing against the leather.
I held her belly with my free hand. Supporting the weight. She sighed — that same exhale Bella had given, the relief of someone else taking the burden. Her body leaned back into me. I stroked my cock against her pussy — not entering. Rubbing the head through her slick, feeling the heat, the wetness, the way her lips parted around the shaft.
Then I pulled back. Positioned myself against her panties.
She wasn't wearing any. But the leather straps of her armor — hanging loose now — created a barrier. A strip of worn leather between her pussy and my cock.
"Let's not harm the child," I said. And slammed forward.
