The command shatters something inside me. My walls clench. Pleasure slams through me again, hard enough that I gasp,clawing at the pillow as he thrusts deep for a while, then holds me there. His own release follows in a hot, pulsing rush that knocks a long moan from his chest, deep and feral, his fingers tightening on my hip.
I melt back against him, keeping his cock in me, trembling. He breathes hard, braced over me, but already stroking the side of my stomach with a calming possessiveness that makes my heart skip a beat.
He gives one last dig and presses his lips to my ear.
“I feel it. Your little cunt is practically sucking my seed out.”
I bat my lashes, coming to. He’s right. I can feel my hips tilt and walls pulsing, as it my body wants him as deep as possible.
Despite that I do want children, I don’t yet. Not until he’s better, and the threat of the Council is dealt with. I don’t want to raise children alone.
“I want kids too, Gustav, but maybe we should wait until things settle. Maybe then I’ll stop taking birth control,” I say softly, still breathless.
He doesn’t move.
He stays deep inside me. Completely still. The air thickens.
“You’re taking birth control? Why?” he asks quietly.
I laugh softly, assuming the answer is obvious beyond having lighter periods.
“Because. I don’t want to get pregnant yet.”
His hand tightens on my side. There is nothing amused in the way he holds me now. His voice turns cold, absolute.
“Nevertake it again.”
My pulse jumps. “Uh. Gustav... ever heard ofmy body, my choice? Or are Russian women deprived of that, too?”
“Peighton. You will bear my children.” No hesitation. No softness. Just a decree.
I freeze, unsure how to respond.
He pulls out, leaving me feeling hollow and nervous.
Inside my mind, my truth lingers with painful clarity:I cannot risk them growing up without a father.
But I cannot tell him that. Not when the madness is still lurking.
So I sit and lift his hand, kiss his knuckles, and give him the answer he wants.
“I love you. I will proudly bear as many children as we make.”
I don’t say the other half, which is I’ll still take birth control until I’m ready.
Thankfully, my spoken words work. A slow, breathtaking smile forms, sincere in a way that steals the air from my lungs. His forehead presses to the back of my hand and his whisper slides warm against my skin.
“Only you calm me this well, devushka.”
We kiss and it aches with tenderness. For a moment, he feels almost whole.
Then—
Ring, ring.
He answers his phone in Russian, voice clipped.
I catch a name and my heart stutters.
