“Maybe you aren’t such a good girl.” He spreads me apart and circles my entrance with his thumb.
And then, I feel the stretch as he sinks into me, slowly, so torturous, I find myself pressing against him with urgency.
“Shhh…” he says. “Slowly.”
He grabs my hips, and I brace myself on the counter as I feel every movement with heightened awareness. His dick bottoms out with each deliberate stroke. I’m so sensitive; every vein of his cock rumbles against the nerve endings inside me.
“Oh my God…” I murmur.
“You like that, honey?” He speaks through gritted teeth.
I rock myself back and forth. I need more. It feels toogood not to chase, and God forbid, we get caught and have to stop in the middle of this.
I rock back eagerly, my ass slapping against his hips, chasing the depth, the pressure…
“Fuck, Freya,” he bites.
He drives into me, ramming deeper now.
His voice is rough. “Your curves, this fucking body…” He slides his hands up under my nightgown and tweaks my nipples, and I swear, my pussy gushes around his length.
“You’re dripping wet, honey. So messy…”
His dirty talk is bringing me to the edge. I grip the counter hard to hang on. He sets a punishing pace, then reaches around to feel for my clit.
There’s so much blood flow down there that the instant he touches me, I’m so sensitive, I burst apart. My pussy flutters around him, like I’m orgasming from every angle. My legs give out, and he wraps his arm around my hips to hold me up, all the while still thrusting hard.
I bite my teeth together to keep quiet.
His skin slaps against mine, the wetness making lewd sounds in the open space. Then finally, his release is hot inside me.
And I’m having an out-of-body experience.
When the aftershocks ease and the world settles back into its shape, he wraps his arms around me from behind, holding my weight and pressing his face into the curve of my neck.
“Time for bed,” he whispers, voice thick, low. “Ourbed.”
I’m breathless. “Okay.”
Anton sweeps me into his arms like I weigh nothing.
He walks us up the stairs, clearly with no consideration for my mom or grandma walking out for any reason. He makes his claim evident.
Held against him, warm and spent, I feel something I never expected to feel so easily—content.
This man. This baby. This home.
The case is the only thing still standing between us and a life that feels almost unfairly good. And once it’s over, there’s nothing between me and the life I want.
27
Freya is tucked against me,her hand resting over my chest, the weight of it welcome over my heart. Her hair is a soft tangle against my collarbone, and for a moment I just lie there, letting myself take in the quiet of her in my arms. It’s the kind of stillness I’ve never had much practice with but one that I’m ready for.
Bringing her to my bed was the final claim.
She’s mine now.
Blood rushes to my limbs just thinking about how it felt to be inside her and to have her soft skin in my palms. My hand slips across her stomach, brushing thecurve of it. Our daughter is a miracle right beneath my palm, and emotion pulls tight across my ribs.
