Chapter Sixty
Azrael
I lift her legs up to her ears; fuck, she’s incredible.
Her body hasn’t just changed; it’s fucking progressed.
Her tits are bigger, fuller, her nipples larger, and I watch them sway as I fuck her ruthlessly, pounding into her like a man possessed.
“Oh, God!” She clings to my arms as I slam inside her at a furious pace.
“I want you pregnant, Hevan.” The thought of her round with my child has my hips surging forward, pound after pound. “Fuck, I want that so bad,” I spit, providing a stream of spittle down her tits. The obscenity of it is electrifying.
“Yes. Oh God, yes!” she screeches.
I ogle down at her stomach, the faint lines a reminder of her pregnancy with our daughter, and I delight in it, tampering down the disappointment at missing it all.
Would I have done things differently given the chance?
No.
Not in a million years. The move I made created an impact on the underground world. An impact that needed to be done for the thousands of innocents like Hevan, and now my daughter too.
Every move I made led me to this moment. It gave us a chance of freedom, an opportunity like Stone’s. It paved the way for Czar’s future, his destiny.
“More,” she begs so epically. “Yes… That’s it.” She moans, accepting every inch.
“Fuck. I’m getting you pregnant, Hevan. You’re going to breed.”Slam.“Me.”Thrust.“My.”Push. “Babies.” I slap her tit, and she cries out, then my fingers creep around her throat, and I delight in the way she tightens around my cock when I press down, determined to draw my cum from me. “Fuck yes.” I groan as my orgasm hits, coursing from my chest down to my toes and back again.
“Yesss!” she screams, and my grip tightens further, sending her over the edge.
“Fuckkk.” My cum floods her, and my head falls forward with the impact of the rhapsody she pulled from me.
I drop down beside her, my chest heaving with perspiration. “Jesus. You drained my balls.”
She turns toward me, and I meet her gaze.
“You’re worthy, and I can’t wait for you to realize it.” She smiles whimsically.
I hold up my arm. “I’ve got the fucking burn marks to prove it.”
She giggles, and the sound sends a rush of warmth through me.
“Your hair has a slight wave to it, just like Czar’s.” She flicks at my hair.
I attempt to flatten it. “Yes. I’m aware,” I clipback.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Who?” I search her face for answers.
“Czar.”
Trust her to be thinking about others.
“Yes, he’ll be fine.”
“How can you be so sure?”
