The unmarked parcel appeared shortly after breakfast the following morning—simple brown wrapping, exactly as I had arranged two days earlier when I realized how often Ethan had poured himself into me since our first slippery mishap.
I carried it straight to his room, pulse quickening, my core already warm with anticipation. Ethan leaned against the pillows, arms locked in place, his thick length resting heavy and half-awakened along his stomach simply from watching me enter wearing nothing but one of his loose shirts.
"Look what arrived for us, sweetheart," I murmured, lifting the small kit like a treasured secret. "After all those deep fillings… after the extended session with the support band… after you've given me so much of yourself each day… we need to discover whether your warmth has truly taken hold."
His arousal stiffened instantly, rising sharply against his abdomen with a clear sound. "Lila… are you overdue?"
"Somewhat," I confessed, voice low and heated. "And I've been holding so much of you inside. Time to learn if I'm carrying my stepson's child."
I wasted no time. I settled across his face first, slipped off the shirt, and lowered my already-slick folds onto his mouth so he could taste me while I used the first stick. His tongue moved with eager care between my petals, cleansing me the moment I finished. Then I placed the strip on the nightstand and descended onto his rigid length in one smooth, eager glide.
"Three minutes," I breathed, beginning to move across him with slow, deliberate circles so every inch pressed along my inner walls. "Three minutes of me taking you in while we wait to see if you've planted something real."
The air hummed with tension. Each motion felt heavier, more charged, more forbidden. I kept my tone soft and affectionate even as the words grew raw:
"If the result shows positive… your child is already forming inside me. I'll keep moving across you daily while my belly grows fuller. You'll continue giving me everything while I carry what you created. If it reads negative… we'll join even more fiercely until the lines appear."
Ethan breathed hard, hips rising instinctively beneath me. "Mommy… I want it. I want to give you a child for real."
The timer reached zero.
We both stared.
Two vivid lines.
Unmistakable.
Positive.
"Oh…" I exhaled, eyes widening as my inner muscles tightened sharply around him. "Sweetheart… you did it. You've actually given Mommy a baby."
For a single heartbeat we froze—real surprise, genuine shock—then the deepest, most primal urge surged between us.
I drove down hard and began moving with fierce hunger.
No more patience. No more restraint.
I rose and fell with raw intensity, my full breasts swaying freely, my rear meeting him with sharp impacts, crying out, "GIVE IT TO ME! FILL THE LIFE YOU JUST STARTED INSIDE ME! POUR EVERYTHING INTO MOMMY!"
Ethan surrendered completely. Despite the casts holding his arms captive, he thrust upward with primal force, meeting me stroke for stroke. The bed shook against the wall. I shattered at once—warm waves flooding across his stomach—but I kept going. I turned to face away and took him even more intensely, pressing my most sensitive spot against his base while moaning:
"Mommy's carrying your child now… and you're still going to keep giving me more every hour… you'll never withdraw again… never!"
He reached his peak with a shattered sound—the most powerful surge yet—flooding my already-claimed depths until thick rivers spilled down his thighs. I refused to let him soften. I continued moving through it, drawing a second release from him moments later, then a third.
We stayed joined for the rest of the day.
Five, six, seven deep fillings. Each one fuller, messier, more urgent. Between peaks I begged in a hoarse whisper:
"Give me another… plant more inside your pregnant stepmother… make me even fuller…"
By evening I trembled, swollen with his essence, thighs quivering, my entrance tender and constantly leaking.
Only then did I reach for the second kit—the digital version.
I used it while still seated fully upon him.
We waited.
The display lit up:
Not Pregnant.
A false result.
I gazed at it for several long seconds… then began to laugh—low, wicked, relieved yet somehow even more aroused.
"False alarm, love," I whispered, still circling my hips slowly along his spent length. "My cycle was simply delayed from all our time together. But that moment of possibility… it made Mommy burn even hotter."
I leaned down and kissed him deeply, sharing every lingering taste.
"We'll hold onto this fire anyway," I told him. "Every single day. We'll join as though I truly am carrying your child. We'll keep trying until the scare becomes reality. And even if it never does… you'll still fill Mommy's depths morning, midday, and night."
His exhausted length gave one final, hopeful pulse deep inside me.
I smiled against his lips.
"Tomorrow the doctor may remove those casts early… but you're going to act as though they still limit you completely. Because Mommy has no intention of ever letting those hands free again. Not when you give me this kind of pleasure."
To be continued.
End of the chapter: 13.