Sweet Grass: A Rapid Pregnancy Fantasy

Meadow could feel one more pulse coming. One was left. Her body was thick, ripe. Exactly how a woman in her eighth month of pregnancy would look and it made Meadow ache. She slid Chase’s hand lower, below her navel. Electric shivers traveled to her nipples, her core. She was vaguely aware of Chase speaking to her, trying to get her to speak. She smiled and moaned; her belly and breasts lobbed and shook. She squirmed.