“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says. “Before I murder this prick.”
55
ANGELO
Abella’s hand on my cock stirs me from sleep.
For a minute, I just lie there, letting her kiss my neck as she strokes me. She’s been mauling me every morning for weeks, and I’m not complaining.
Last night, I watched her ride me, that little bump in her belly on full display. The memory of it branded itself into me. Every time I see it, I’m reminded that she’s carrying a piece of me. It fucks with my head in ways I didn’t expect.
When I’m not inside her, I’m thinking about it obsessively. The way her body is changing, softening—it gets me irrationally hard. I’m violent with the need to protect her. That includes guarding her from her darkest thoughts.
It’s taken her some time to accept that this is real. Every day, a new fear grips her by the throat—whispering that her happiness is an illusion. She worries about losing the baby or that fate might conspire against us somehow.
I would die before I let that happen.
When those demons arise, we slay them together. Mariella checks on her often, reassuring her that everything is progressing as it should. And now that we’ve passed the three-month mark, Abella finally seems to be letting some of her guard down.
She’s back at work and spending time with her friends. Last night, she also confessed that she was missing some of our games—like the ones where I rail her while I’m terrifying the shit out of her. It will be a while before we can do that again, but there is a compromise.
Today, I’ve had her assistant block out an hour on her schedule when she returns from lunch—where I’ll be waiting in her favorite mask.
In the meantime, I’ll tend to her more urgent needs.
She sucks in a breath when I wrap a rough hand around her wrist, and when I open my eyes to meet hers, she shivers in anticipation.
“Someone greedy this morning,cara?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “I was waiting for you to wake up.”
“What filthy thought were you entertaining while I was asleep?” I brush my thumb over her nightgown, skimming her nipple beneath the material.
“Let me show you,” she says.
I release her wrist, watching as she balances on her knees and pulls the sheet back. Her head dips low, her hair gliding over my thighs like silk as she sucks me into her mouth. She takes as much of me as she can, and I groan, pressing my fingers into her skull.
The little fiend gets off on my roughness. I get off on watching my obsession worship my cock. For years, I’ve harbored this darkness. I’ve stalked her. Craved her. Hated her. Needed her. And now that everything has been stripped away, all that’s left is a raw, unhinged kind of love. To keep this—there is nothing I won’t do, no line I won’t cross.
She is, and will forever be, mine.
Every time I think she can’t get any hotter, she does something like this. Watching her milk my cock while she’s round with our baby is slightly deranged, but I’m not stopping her either.
She keeps going until I come in her mouth, and then she swallows it all and licks me clean until I pull her off my dick.
“Come up here,” I tell her.
“Where?” She glances at me in confusion.
“On my face.”
She looks at me hesitantly, like she thinks she’s going to smother me. It would be cute if I weren’t so fucking hungry for her.
“Cara,” I warn her. “Get. On. My. Face.”
She lets out a little huff and then does as she’s told, climbing over me and sitting on my face.
I lick all the way up her seam and then spread her apart, eating her out until she comes. That desperate little cry she makes unravels me every time.
