Chapter 9 Benedikt
Benedikt
The next morning starts the same way most mornings do for me. The difference is, today involved Sienna, my father’s pet doctor, and a lie big enough to shift the ground under our feet.
Dr. Mikhail was already sweating when we arrived.
He was smart enough to know I wasn’t there for second opinions or gentle bedside manner.
I let Sienna sit in the plush chair beside the desk while I stood, taking up the space between them like a wall.
Mikhail glanced at me twice before fumbling with his computer mouse.
The threat I gave him last night was simple: You tell my father she’s pregnant. You put it in her records. If a single word contradicts that, I’ll put his wife, his two sons, daughter-in-law, and your two grandchildren in the ground before he could even blink.
Nothing fancy. Just facts.
He delivered the performance like a man with a gun pressed to his spine, which, in a sense, he did. Congratulated her even though she knew it was bullshit, offered a pamphlet on prenatal vitamins, and smiled like he wasn’t praying to every god he could name that he didn’t fuck up.
Sienna doesn’t speak much, nor did she ask any questions about how I pulled that off.
For once, she shut up. She allowed me to take the lead. She’s learning quickly.
We left without scheduling a follow-up. I know my father will be pleased to hear the news later and call, but I won’t be answering. What he won’t know is that I’ve given myself a deadline, and I don’t have time to fuck around with his plans for my future child.
Nine months from now, there’s going to be a child with my blood.
We’ve never slept together, and I don’t possess the ability to make her pregnant by just staring at her, so that’ll need to change.
Immediately.
I hear the front door open. My office sits just off the foyer, and the door cracked enough to catch the light from outside it.
Her steps are light, almost hesitant. She doesn’t wander too far, just lingers near the entry like she’s still deciding if she wants to be here or skip out and pretend she never was.
I lean back in my chair, watching the shadow of her feet shift across the polished floor, until she finally moves toward the kitchen.
She doesn’t notice me following or know that I’m home.
She’s on her phone, voice warm and animated in a way I haven’t seen in my vicinity. She’s in a pink dress that hugs the upper part of her frame and flows out into a graceful little number with my name written all over it.
Her long red hair beckons me closer, draping flawlessly down her spine as she pulls out a bottle of water from the fridge.
“No, I’m thinking a pale blue on the walls,” she says to whomever is on the phone.
“With white tile, maybe gold fixtures, and maybe one of those chalkboard menus? I don’t know, Lucy, I’m thinking we could do a launch special.
Croissants for everyone—no, not free, I’m not stupid—” She laughs, the sound soft and genuine.
I stop just inside the kitchen doorway.
She’s moving like she belongs here. Setting her bag down on the counter, pulling a glass from the cabinet, and leaning her hip against the marble as she talks. She doesn’t see me, doesn’t feel me, which means she’s comfortable.
It’s as fucking annoying as it is watching myself in my own home.
I gave my staff the day off because I didn’t want to overwhelm Sienna. And, if I’m being honest, I wanted her to myself.
I let her finish whatever sentence she’s mid-way through before stepping in.
Her back is to me when she turns toward the fridge again. I cross the space in three steps.
She suddenly spins back and sees me, her hand jerking slightly with the glass. “Oh—” She stumbles over nothing, eyes going wide.
I don’t say a word.
I just point to the counter.
She hesitates with furrowed brows for exactly two seconds before setting the glass down and hoisting herself up.
Her phone is still pressed to her ear. Lucy is still talking, oblivious.
I close the distance and stand between her knees. My hands braced on either side of her thighs. She smells like vanilla and city air, a mix that shouldn’t work but does.
Her eyes flicker between me and the kitchen doorway like she’s debating an escape.
But that would require her hanging up the phone and ending her discussion about her bakery.
The one I’m signing the papers for tomorrow.
Not that she knows that.
However, with what I’m about to do, I might need to add to that.
Sienna swallows, golden brown eyes locked on me when she stutters, “Uh—yeah, I’m here. Just…yeah, keep going.”
I run my hands slowly up the backs of her thighs and under the hem of her dress. She tenses but doesn’t stop talking.
“That’s what I’m saying,” she says into the phone, voice only slightly higher than before. “We could do an espresso flight for the opening week. People would love that.”
I slide the dress higher, exposing smooth skin, along with the faint tremor in her legs. My fingers curl under the edge of her panties, tugging them aside without a word.
She exhales into the receiver like nothing’s happening. “And maybe a seasonal menu—pumpkin in fall, gingerbread in winter.”
Stupid and basic.
However, I told myself I wouldn’t get involved. Bakeries are not my speciality, nor is it something I’d want to get involved with.
“I like that,” Sienna breathes, and I imagine her telling me that instead of her friend. “I’ll send you the list today. You can scratch off what you don’t like.”
I free myself from my dress pants, the zipper sounding too loud in the quiet between her words. Her eyes widen before she shakes her head like she doesn’t want this.
She doesn’t want me.
The head of my cock finds her wet cunt, nudging past that soft resistance, and she takes a sharp breath into the phone.
“Yeah…that’s exactly what I was thinking.”
I push in slowly, making sure she feels every inch stretching her until I’m buried deep. Her knuckles whiten where she grips the counter, but she keeps her tone light for Lucy, voice lilting like she’s not being fucked in my kitchen.
I draw back and sink into her again, setting a pace that’s steady but deliberate, enough to keep her balanced before I bring her to the edge of losing it.
“Mm-hm. We could…we could test recipes before opening.” She swallows around the words, a little breathless now, but still pretending everything is fine when my cock is deep inside her tight cunt.
I glance down, watching myself disappear into her again and again, my hands keeping her exactly where I want her.
She’s soft and incredibly warm, and I want to hear her break, but not yet. I press in harder, hips meeting hers, each thrust making her voice catch before she smooths it out.
“Outdoor seating…maybe a mural on the side wall,” she says, pretending like her world isn’t narrowing to the rhythm I’m giving her.
I shift my stance, angling deeper, and her hand flies out to steady herself against the cabinets. Lucy must say something that makes her laugh—soft, breathy, shaky—and the sound curls around my spine.
I grip her harder, pulling her flush against me, making sure she feels exactly how much I own her, right here, right now. My thumb presses into the curve of her hip, anchoring her as I draw back slowly, almost to the point of slipping free, before driving in again.
She inhales sharply, and the silence on her end of the call stretches just long enough to make her scramble. “Sorry—dropped my pen.”
I bite back a smirk. She’s getting sloppy.
I like sloppy during sex.
Her ass fits perfectly in my hands while the hem of her dress stays bunched high around her waist. I push in deep again, holding there, grinding against that sweet spot until her rationality threatens to give out.
She tries to shift backward, maybe to escape the pressure, but I pull her right back onto me.
“Mm-hm,” she manages into the receiver. “Yeah, we could do that.”
Her words are paper-thin now.
I lean forward, my mouth brushing her ear, my breath loud enough for her but not for Lucy. “Keep talking, princess.”
The flush creeping up her neck tells me she’s feeling it. Her nails dig into the countertop. I keep my pace maddeningly steady—deep, deliberate thrusts that make her bite down on every other word.
She pitches her voice higher to cover it. “And maybe—uh—we could do bread baskets for morning customers. Something light.”
The moment she says light, I give her the opposite, slamming into her hard enough to jolt the phone in her hand.
She sucks in a breath, but Lucy doesn’t seem to notice.
I’m not in a hurry. I’m not here to finish; I’m here to make her remember.
Every word, every second, every twitch in her thighs when she tries to stand straight.
I keep her pinned exactly where I want her, the sound of skin meeting skin muffled by the counter’s edge.
She starts nodding along to whatever Lucy’s saying, even though her eyes are glassy and unfocused. The rhythm of her voice and my hips are out of sync now, and she’s working too hard to pretend they’re not.
Her breathing hitches again. I slow down. Just enough to make her groan under her breath.
Her lips pressed together like she’s afraid anything she says will give her away, and I let a smile curve my mouth, sliding a hand up her back, before tangling in her hair and pulling just enough to arch her spine.
The angle changes, and the little gasp she lets out is pure, unfiltered Sienna.
Lucy keeps talking. Sienna keeps trying. I keep making sure she fails, just a little more with every thrust.
Absolute fucking perfection.
My balls clench to be released of all the pent-up aggression and attraction I have for this woman. I haven’t wanted to fuck a female like this in years.
I haven’t allowed myself such freedoms because, at the time, it served no purpose other than the random one-night stands and my promptly leaving afterward.
Sienna may be my future, but she won’t get that deep.
She can’t.
Not only is that a liability waiting to happen, but stupid as hell to entertain.
Her legs suddenly tremble violently, and I can feel the tension coiling tight as her body shudders in response.
The moment breaks and her back arches hard against me, a fierce cry muffled by the phone pressed to her cheek.
Without hesitation, I slam my palm over her mouth, stifling the sound as she convulses against me.
Her eyes flash wide and wild beneath my hand.
Pupils dilated with shock and raw need, as I nuzzle my face into the soft skin of her neck, breathing her in.
Her pulse thunders there, rapid and frantic beneath my lips as I press a soft kiss here.
Our movements sync where she’s trembling uncontrollably, and I follow her lead, hard, releasing the tight coil of pleasure boiling inside me.
Sienna whimpers and moans against my palm as I pump my hot cum inside her. A brutal rush of possessiveness with each thrust that has me clenching my eyes closed because I own her.
Her muscles tighten around me as I ride her until I’m finished.
A set of dizziness sets in, and I exhale harshly while Sienna relaxes against me.
I lower my hand and slowly pull back to see her skin flush pink with the afterglow of her orgasm.
I press a soft kiss to her forehead. My fingertips tracing the curve of her jaw, whispering against her skin that there’s more of this until my father’s doctor’s bullshit becomes a reality.
Sienna will get pregnant with my child.
And she’s going to do it very quickly.
We never talked in the car after leaving my father’s dinner last night. I drove her to the hotel, told her she’d be moving in today, and left.
I didn’t plan on moving this fast with her.
But then she told my father and the fucking space, she was pregnant with my child, and it was game on.
There was no going back.
And, if I were naive as hell, I’d convince myself she wanted to be to make this easier.
I step back, button my pants, and smooth my jacket down, but not without stealing a glance at what I’ve done.
Sienna is breathless, flushing, and still gripping the life out of her cell.
Good.
Because there’s more where that came from.