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“You came inside me.” She chews on her bottom lip before opening her mouth again. “I could feel you swell and spill inside me.” Her eyes are alight with wonder. “It felt so good.”

My cock twitches. “You said you’re on birth control, right?” Though why do those words feel like acid on my tongue. I glance down at her flat stomach, and the sudden urge to see her swollen with my child causes my cock to throb.

When I pull my focus back up to meet hers, something flashes in her eyes before it’s gone just as quickly.

“Yes.” She smiles, but it’s lackluster, and I use the tips of my fingers to brush the hair from her eyes to see her closely. “I’m on birth control,” she says, like she’s trying to convince me.

“Good girl,” I rasp, leering down at her before pressing a kiss to her soft lips. “Good girl for letting Daddy come inside you.” I kiss her again. “I need to always come inside my girl.”

Her chest rises, and she opens her mouth, but the sound of Amanda on the stairs has us jerking away from each other. I jump back, and Immie sits up straight before sliding off the counter while I tuck my spent cock inside my shorts.

Amanda’s heels click on the marble floor, heading our way, and Immie busies herself with making breakfast while I turn on the coffee machine.

“Ugh, seriously, Jensen. You best tidy this mess. Your daughter is a nightmare when she bakes in the kitchen,” she snipes from where she stands in the entryway.

“Our daughter,” I bite back, reminding her she’s Immie’s adopted mother, though it pains me to say it.

Her nostrils flare and her chest heaves, and in this moment, I wonder how the hell I ever became attached to such a vicious woman.

My phone buzzes on the counter, so I snatch it up to see the message alerting me that Zane has arrived at the gates. “I need to get changed.” I push past her and take the stairs two at a time.

I need some distance between us. Especially when I have the smell of my girl’s pussy on my fingers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

IMMIE

Amanda scowls in my direction, but I ignore her and walk over to the refrigerator.

“You don’t need to put any more fruit in the bowl, Imogen. You have enough. Did your mother never feed you?”

Her words cut deep, and she knows it.

I’ve no real clue who my mother is, other than an undeserving junkie, but Amanda doesn’t know that. Clearly, the story Jensen spun her was not enough to quench her thirst for information as to my arrival years ago. According to him and the story we fed others, they had a one-night stand, and she gave over rights to me when I became a rebellious teenager. Something that has played into Amanda’s hands too many times. Though deep down, I know Jensen doesn’t believe it. He endures her wrath as much as I do, just to keep the harmony when we’re together. Lately, it’s almost as if Amanda expects my birth mother to suddenly reappear and become Jensen’s everything, and that causes her behavior to spiral.

I ignore her cruel jibes. After spending years enduring them, I refuse to succumb to them now, not after waiting so long to finally have Jensen.

Her eyes light up when I place her favorite cookie in front of her. Originally, I was hoping she would see the gesture as a peace offering, but now she’s come to expect my baking while grumbling about it.

The front door opens, and I know it’ll be Zane arriving, so I pour the Greek yogurt on top of my berries. The perfect combination to help protect me against infertility and increase protecting my eggs and Jensen’s sperm against any damage.

After spending months researching how to be the healthiest person I can be to become pregnant, I’m confident all the foods I eat are the current ones for a higher fertility diet. Throw in the daily supplements I take, the only thing I have left to do is to make sure Jensen doesn’t allow guilt to eat at him so he gives in to his conscience.

Nope, the only thing I want is for him to fuck me. Preferably multiple times a day.

“Hey, Immie!” Zane declares as he enters the room. “Jensen not ready, then?” He huffs.

“You should knock when you enter people’s homes,” Amanda snipes from the barstool before glancing back over at the full coffee mug beneath the machine. Her eyes narrow on me.

“You don’t own this place. It’s part of La Familia,” Zane reminds her, dragging a chair out and taking a seat at the kitchen table.

I follow suit, sitting in the opposite seat. “Is Fern dancing today?”

Fern is an incredible ballet dancer and is constantly in shows. The way she conducts herself on stage is mesmerizing.

“She’s always dancing,” he muses as he watches Amanda texting.

“What’s Fen doing?”