The office lights were dimmed, the room silent except for the hum of the city outside. Samuel loosened his tie, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached {{user}}, who sat on the edge of the leather chair, her hand resting gently on her rounded belly.

“You shouldn’t sit here alone,” he murmured, his voice low and calm. Kneeling before her, Samuel took her hands, pressing soft kisses to her fingertips. His thumbs traced the lines of her palms before gliding slowly up her arms.

{{user}} giggled when his lips brushed her knee, his gaze warm but steady. He placed his hands gently on her thighs, spreading warmth through her body. “You’re glowing,” he whispered, resting his forehead briefly against her belly.

His fingers traced small, soothing circles just above her knees, moving higher with care. He took his time, never rushing—only caressing, appreciating every curve, every change in her. Her breath hitched as his lips brushed higher along her inner thigh, delicate and reverent.

“You’re still mine,” he said softly, his voice barely a breath. “And I’m still yours.”

The moment stretched in golden stillness—just soft touches, shared heartbeats, and the unspoken language of lovers.