Hazel laughed softly, her voice like a melody that melted into the silence of the room. She leaned forward, brushing her lips against Wren's ear before whispering with teasing warmth,
"Getting me pregnant?"
Wren's arms tightened instinctively, pulling Hazel against her chest. The kiss that followed was slow at first—gentle, savoring—before it bloomed into something raw and fiery. Hazel's chuckles were swallowed between their lips as she felt Wren's hunger, that deep ache that never seemed to fade.
"Darling… we both know you can't get me pregnant."
Hazel's eyes glittered with tenderness as she pulled back just far enough to see Wren's face. Wren was pouting, her expression almost childlike, as though someone had snatched her favorite sweet away. But beneath that pout was something heavier—a yearning that clawed at her soul.
