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The crude words and the loving degradation are her undoing, sending her over the edge. Her back bows, a sharp, elegant curve that presses her ass firmly against my hips, as a scream tears from her throat. Her entire body convulses, shaking uncontrollably as her orgasm rips through her. Her ass pulses around my thumb, and her pussy clamps down on my cock like a vise, milking my release from me.

“Fuck!” I roar, burying myself deep as I explode. My orgasm is violent and shattering. Rope after rope of hot cum paints her walls, marking what is already mine. I keep pushing my thumb as deep as I can into her ass, as I empty myself into her pregnant body in a blinding moment of ecstasy.

When the spasms finally subside, I collapse over her, careful to keep most of my weight on my forearms. We’re both gasping for air, slick with sweat, our bodies humming with aftershocks. I press my face into her hair, breathing in her scent. Slowly and gently, I withdraw my thumb, then my cock. A whimper escapes her at the loss.

I roll her onto her side and curl my body around hers, pulling her against my chest. I’m still hard and wanting—as I have been since the first moment I saw her—but the desperate edge is gone now. It has been replaced by a profound, bone-deep contentment. I kiss her shoulders and the back of her neck as she nuzzles her ass against my hips.

“Mine,” I whisper into the nape of her hair. “My pregnant angel. My wife. My everything.”

She turns her head, her eyes soft and dazed, as she glances at me over her shoulder. A slow, beautiful smile spreads across her face. “Yours, Daddy,” she musters back. “We both are.”

I pull the blanket over us, tucking her in close. My hand comes to rest possessively on her belly. The warmth of her skin seeps into my palm, a tangible connection to the life growing within. My obsession has succeeded. I’ve claimed her, not only as my wife, but as the mother of my heir. Every other ambition, every business deal, every square foot of this empire I want to build, pales in comparison to this single, monumental achievement.

This is where my legacy begins.

Chapter Fourteen

Six months later

Cora

I run my hand over the curve of my belly, feeling the tight stretch of skin beneath my silk dress. I’m huge. There is literally no other word for it. My stomach swells prominently in front of me, round and firm, a perfect sphere that announces my condition to anyone who garners a glance in my direction. My breasts have grown, too, heavy and full as Roman wished, straining against the bodice of my gown. I feel different, like a powerful vessel for something miraculous.

And I am happy. Genuinely, stupidly, overwhelmingly happy, carrying the child of the monster who forced my hand in marriage. It’s absurd.

I stand near the windows of the recently renovated ballroom, on the top floor of the building Roman acquired two months ago, watching the crowd gather below for Roman’s official launch of The Ashford Group. The room is filled with investors, politicians, journalists, and virtually everyone who matters in this city. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across the marble floors as waiters circulate with champagne flutes and canapés. This isn’t just an announcement of his company; it’s a celebration of Roman’s ambition, vision, and relentless drive to build something that will outlast us all.

My stomach flutters as our son moves, followed by a distinct kick beneath my ribs. I smile, my hand pressing firmly against the spot. “I feel you, my darling boy,” I whisper. “Daddy is going to show them all what he’s built for you.”

“Talking to our son?” Roman’s warm, rich voice startles me from behind, sending a shiver down my spine. I turn to find him a few feet behind me, devastating in a tailored tuxedo that hugs his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His eyes—those dark, predatory eyes—fix on me with an intensity that still makes my knees weak.

“He’s active tonight,” I share, smiling up at him. “Must know something important is happening.”

Roman reaches me and doesn’t stop. He carefully pulls me into his arms, his hands settling possessively on my waist, then sliding around to cradle my belly. He spreads his fingers, covering as much of me as he can, and I feel the heat of his palms through the silk.

“He knows his father is about to claim his empire,” Roman whispers, his lips brushing over my ear. “He knows his mother is the most beautiful woman in this room.”

I flush, my hand covering his, where it rests on my stomach. “Roman, everyone’s watching.”

“Let them watch,” he growls, his thumb stroking slow circles over the fabric. “Let them see what I’ve claimed, the beautiful angel that I’ve bred. Not only does pregnancy show them all that you are mine in a way nothing else could, but it suits you. You’re glowing, Cora.”

I lean into him, feeling safe and owned in the best way possible. Ten months ago, I was terrified of this man. Now I can’t imagine my life without his possessiveness, dominance, or the way he looks at me like I’m the center of his world.

The baby kicks again, hard enough that Roman feels it. His expression shifts to one of awe and fierce pride. He lays both hands flat against my belly. “He’s strong,” Roman muses. “Just like his father.”

Ignoring the stares of people in the room, I run my fingers through Roman’s hair as he holds my pregnant belly in his hands. He dips his head and bends over my belly to press his lips to mine. He kisses me with the desire of a man who is tasting my lips for the first time, and I can’t help but melt into him.

Breaking our kiss, Roman turns me to face the room, his hands never leaving my body. He pulls my back against his chest and protectively cradles my belly from behind. We look out at the crowd together with his chin resting on my shoulder. “Look at them,” he whispers. “All these people. They think they’re here for a business launch. They think they’re here to see Roman Ashford announce his new venture. But they couldn’t be more wrong.”

“What are they here for?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

“They’re here to bear witness,” he shares, his voice carrying now, loud enough that nearby guests turn to listen. “They’re here to see the beginning of a legacy. The Ashford Group is just the start. It’s the foundation. But this…” He runs his hand over my belly in a slow, deliberate caress. “We’re building an empire for my sons.”

Roman turns me in his arms and lifts his hands to cup my face. His eyes burn into mine, fierce, loving, and absolutely certain. “You’ve given me everything, angel. You’ve given me your submission, your body, and your love. And soon, you’re going to birth our child. A son who will inherit all of this, who will grow up knowing his father built something real and lasting, something worthy of his mother’s sacrifice.”

“It’s not a sacrifice,” I whisper, tears pricking my eyes. “It’s a gift. I want to give you everything, Roman. I want to be the mother of your children. I want to stand here, like this, showing the world that I belong to you.”

Roman keeps one arm around my waist as he turns to address the room properly. He speaks about The Ashford Group, about acquisitions and strategies and five-year plans, but his hand never leaves my belly. He touches me constantly: stroking, caressing, reminding me and everyone else that I am his. I am his everything. I am the foundation of the legacy he is building.