“So, you approve of our chef?” I ask, chuckling softly.
“I definitely do, he’s amazing.”
“Good, because I’m going to find us a house manager.”
“Why?” she whines. “We don’t need a house manager, we already have a chef and a cleaner. What would they do?”
“We need someone to manage the house, someone loyal who lives on the estate, who can pass the insanely invasive background check we’ll be doing on everyone who steps foot onto the estate from now on,” I tell her.
Her eyes flash, then immediately subdue. “God, I hate that you’re right.”
“I’ll ask Dawn if she can help interview the applicants.”
“Okay,” Starling says resignedly, her hand resting on her food-engorged belly.
“I can’t wait until it’s our baby, not a food baby, making you look like that,” I tell her, crawling between her legs to press my lips to her belly button.
“It could take months, or even years, for me to get pregnant, and I only agreed to start trying this morning.”
“I’m confident that you’ll get pregnant quickly.”
“What makes you say that?” she asks cautiously.
“Because Dr. Harris is coming in the morning to give you a hormone shot to make you more fertile.”
“Wait, what?” she yells. “I am not getting a fertility shot.”
“You are. I am too. We’re going to do everything in our power to get pregnant as quickly as possible.”
Shaking her head, she purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re being a psycho, Sebastian.”
“That’s not new information, Little Bird,” I purr, lifting all of the plates and leftover food off the bed as I crawl betweenher thighs, spreading her legs so I can position myself between them.
“Why can’t we just keep having loads of sex and see what happens?” she asks, her tone coaxing.
Sighing, I press a soft kiss to her neck and glide my lips up to her ear. “I want you dripping with my cum, all day every day.”
“That doesn’t sound like a hardship, especially as I’m basically on house arrest until we deal with Courtney,” she whispers softly.
“You’ll never say no to me, will you, Little Bird?” I ask, slipping my hand between her thighs and pushing two fingers into her wet core.
“Never,” she promises.
“You love being used by me, don’t you, Little Whore?”
“So much,” she admits, making me smile.
“Tell me.”
“I love being your little whore,” she pants as I line my dick up with her entrance and fill her, slowly inching into her body.
Pumping into her in gentle slides, I take turns sucking first one nipple, then the other, into my mouth, feeling the way her cunt clenches around my cock when I add a hint of pain to her pleasure. Unlike earlier, neither of us is desperate or clawing at each other’s skin. Instead, I fuck her like I have all the time in the world. Because I do. My wife isn’t going anywhere.
Neither of us gets much sleep, my need for her too heady, my desire to put my baby in her so compulsive that it pains me to watch as my release drips out of her well-used cunt. I know there are toys and conception aids you can use to try and increase the chances of pregnancy, but I’d rather keep her legs in the air and my dick in her as often as possible.
Her sleepy eyes are still full of heat when I hand her a mug of coffee the next morning.
“Thank you,” she says softly, her nipples dark pink and elongated from me sucking on them so much.
