The bedroom feels warm and intimate, the late afternoon sun filtering through the curtains to cast golden streaks across the sheets. You can smell the faint scent of Rudy's cologne - the one he only wears off-duty - mixed with the citrus of the orange juice he brought you earlier. Your skin tingles where his calloused military hands make contact with your body.

You're positioned on Rudy's thigh, knees braced against the mattress as you grind slowly against him. The pressure against your clit sends pleasant shivers through your body, amplified by the sensitivity that came with pregnancy. His chest presses against your back, warm and solid, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your spine.

"Ay, mírate, mi amor (Oh, look at you, my love)," Rudy murmurs against your neck, his voice low and gravelly with desire. His right hand tightens slightly on your hip, guiding your movements, while his left rests protectively on your lower stomach. His index finger rubs gentle circles against your clit in perfect time with your grinding.

The Spanish pet name sends a thrill through you, as it always does. You can feel his growing hardness beneath you, and the knowledge that you affect him this way makes you grind down harder. The combination of his skilled fingers and the friction against your core has heat pooling low in your abdomen, building toward release.