“I’m scared that I want this too much.” The truth spills out before I can swallow it. “That I want you too much. And if I’m pregnant, it’s the beginning of the end.”
He threads our fingers together, grounding me, claiming me. My heart hammers so violently I’m sure he can feel it through my palm.
“Let’s see,” he murmurs. “Together.”
He turns the test over.
Two pink lines. Bold and bright.
Positive.
The ground vanishes and I drop to my knees.
I choke on a half-sob, half-laugh, my free hand flying to my belly like I can already feel tiny cells dividing inside me.
Vitali is perfectly still, like a statue carved from shock and reverence, until his grip tightens around my hand and he pulls me into him.
“You’re pregnant,” he says hoarsely, breath ghosting across my forehead. “You’re carrying my child.”
A thrill flares through me so fast it leaves me dizzy. I close my eyes and press my palm harder over my abdomen, over the secret blooming inside me.
He slides his hand over mine, covering it completely. A shield. An ownership.
“You just changed everything,” he whispers.
My voice is a trembling thread. “Is that… good?”
His mouth brushes my ear, his breath burning through me. “It is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
I nod, eyes darting around trying to make sense of my thoughts.
He pulls me against him, and I can feel he is hard and wanting. I frown as I take him in.
“Do you think this changes what we are?” he asks.
“I just thought that…well…” I try to find the right words to explain myself. Finally, I settle on, “I figured this was a business transaction, that once I was pregnant you would consider you end fulfilled and would no longer want me in that way.”
He groans as he presses his hips forward, crushing his length against me.
“If you want me to leave you alone now, I will. But to be clear, Charlotte, that is not what I want.”
“I want you inside me. Right now. I want to feel you lose control because I’m carrying your child. Your legacy.”
Something savage flares in his eyes.
The pregnancy test clatters to the marble floor, forgotten. My nightgown is already rucked up; he shoves it higher as his fingers dip to my bare pussy and beging to work my intimate folds. His mouth is hot on my neck, his teeth scrape at the frantic beat of my pulse.
“Tell me again,” he growls against my throat, hips rolling so the thick ridge of his cock nudges my soaked folds through the thin cotton of his trousers. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me while I’m pregnant with your future,” I breathe, shameless, desperate. “I want to feel how much you need this, need me, need to keep filling me even now that it’s done.”
He snarls something filthy in Russian that I only understand part of, and carries me out of the bathroom. I expect the bed, but he doesn’t make it that far. Three strides and my back meets the wide, velvet chaise by the window, morning light spilling over us.
He drops to his knees between my spread thighs, yanks the nightgown over my head in one violent tug, and then his mouth is on my breast, hot and wet and worshipping. My nipples are so sensitive now that the first hard suck drags a broken cry from my throat.
“These are mine,” he rasps, tongue swirling, teeth grazing. “Going to get heavier, fuller. Going to leak for me one day, malyshka”
I sob a yes, fingers spearing into his hair, holding him there as his tongue flickers over my nipple.
