Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
“ C assie, we’re going to be late.”
My words are more out of habit than concern, because I already know she’s not listening. Not when her eyes darken with that look when she reappears from the bathroom. Not when she steps into my space, fingers curling around my tie and dragging it from my neck like a fuse being lit.
“Hands,” she orders.
I comply, because fuck, I live to obey her when she turns like this. A grin carves across my face, slow and dangerous. She brings out something in me I didn’t know existed, something that purrs under her command, even as the predator in me lies coiled just beneath the surface, waiting.
She knots the silk around my wrists and pushes me back onto the bed, tying me to the headboard like she’s trying to restrain the devil himself.
“Cassie,” I growl, testing the bonds. They won’t hold. We both know that. But I let them, let her, because I want to see what this side of her does when she thinks she’s in control.
I’m already hard. Of course I am. She’s straddling me in nothing but that wild fire in her eyes, and every inch of my body is burning for her. Her two month bump is showing already and knowing that I did that only sparks the primal urges inside of me.
“You asked me what was on my mind,” she shrugs, all fake innocence. Then she gestures to my restrained body, eyes glittering with mischief. “This.”
I stare at her, teeth clenched against the wave of need clawing at my spine. She thinks she’s teasing me. And maybe she is. But more than that, she’s feeding something animalistic inside me. I’d devour her if she let me. And if she doesn't? I’ll still take my fucking time getting there.
She looks down at me like she can’t believe I’m hers. Like she’s the one who’s lucky.
If only she knew.
She doesn’t understand that every moment I spend with her, I’m doing everything in my power not to ruin her completely. Not to claim her so violently, so thoroughly, that nothing else in her life feels real.
“We’ll be late,” I try again, but my voice lacks conviction.
Every word is a lie, and we both know it.
I don’t give a damn about the clock, or the doctor that’s waiting for us with his clipboard and clinical questions.
I don’t care about any of that besides knowing my Cassie and our baby are healthy.
All I care about is the way she looks right now—flushed cheeks, parted lips, hunger simmering in her eyes like she’s starving for me.
And fuck, I want her to beg. I want to watch the defiance melt off her tongue and be replaced with need.
I want her voice to crack around my name, want her thighs to tremble with anticipation, want to own her so completely that she forgets everything but how good it feels to unravel in my hands.
Her mouth crashes down on mine, cutting off my warning. She tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted and never thought I deserved. The second her tongue brushes mine, I groan, hips bucking, straining against the tie.
She pulls back, smiling down at me like she’s won something. My cock twitches in my pants, a pulse of desperation that only she can draw from me.
Her fingers explore me, reverent and greedy at once. And when she bites her lip—that fucking lip—I know I’m done for.
“You know what that does to me,” I tell her, voice low and ragged.
“Tell me,” she teases, blinking those lashes.
Oh, she wants a confession? Fine.
“I want to take that mouth,” I growl as her hand slides into my pants. My cock springs free and she wraps her fingers around me, smug and sinful.
“Fuck,” I breathe, eyes fluttering closed for one reckless second.
“Tell me more,” she whispers.
“You drive me so fucking crazy.”
She kisses down my neck, tongue hot and wet against my skin, and I hiss through my teeth. She knows what she’s doing—driving me mad inch by inch, until I’m nothing but raw nerve and need.
“Cassie,” I warn as she keeps teasing, denying me her mouth, her body. I yank at the tie again. I could break it, but I don’t. Not yet.
She wants to play.
But when she takes my cock into her mouth, all bets are off.
“Fuck, yes,” I groan, watching her, loving the way her lips look wrapped around me. Every lick, every suck is pure torture. Her mouth is heaven and hell at once, and I’d let her kill me with it if it meant dying inside her.
“Look at me,” she commands. I do. God, I do. And she smirks like a queen.
She’s taking her time, building me up just to break me down. And when she pulls away just before I come, leaving me throbbing and undone, I see stars.
“You don’t get to come unless I tell you,” she says, mocking me with my own rules .
I laugh, low and feral. She’s good. She’s learning. But she has no idea what she’s unleashed.
When she grinds her wet pussy against me, I snap.
In one brutal motion, I flip her onto her back, watching her wide eyes drink me in like I’m a monster—her monster.
“How did?—”
“You’ve had your fun,” I whisper, shoving her thighs apart. “Now I’m going to remind you who you belong to.”
She teases me with a grin, but I’m done playing.
I thrust into her in one slow, punishing stroke, filling her until she gasps.
“There’s only one thing better than fucking your mouth,” I murmur against her ear, pausing just to hear her breath hitch. “And that’s fucking this perfect pussy.”
She moans, my name a broken prayer on her lips.
I set a rhythm deep, precise, brutal in its tenderness. I watch her fall apart beneath me, eyes glazed, mouth slack. I want to burn the image into my mind forever.
“Are you going to give me what I want?” I ask, slamming into her harder.
“Yes,” she cries. “Yes, Axel. Oh, God. Yes!”
Her orgasm hits and I follow, groaning her name like it’s the only word I remember.
And maybe it is because when I’m inside her, when she’s wrapped around me like this, nothing else exists. Nothing else matters. Just Cassie. My salvation. My chaos. My queen.
B y the time we get out the door, we’re ten minutes late and I’m not exactly walking straight. Cassie’s satisfied smirk as she buttons her coat says she knows it too .
“You think you’re funny,” I mutter as I open the car door for her.
She slides into the passenger seat, smug and glowing in a way that makes my chest ache.
She’s carrying my child. My fucking child.
I’m still trying to get used to the way that soft, almost visible bump curves beneath her clothes.
The reminder that something good—something ours —is growing inside her.
“You're quiet now,” she teases, glancing over at me as I drive into the city. “Already planning how you’ll tie me up next time?”
“No,” I grumble, eyes fixed on the road but hand reaching across to rest on her thigh. “I’m still thinking about how good you looked when you came apart on my cock.”
She blushes, and it makes me grin like an idiot—like the cocky bastard who just won the lottery and can’t stop staring at the prize.
Because fuck, she is the prize. My smart-mouthed, fire-eyed, too-good-for-me Cassie, blushing like she’s not the one who just dropped to her knees and wrecked me before breakfast.
But when we pull up to the clinic, the mood shifts. Just slightly. Enough that I feel it in the silence stretching between us. She’s quiet now, lips pressed into a line, and her hands keep fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve like she’s trying to ground herself in the thread.
I reach for her without saying a word, fingers tangling with hers as we step through the sliding doors. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she grips tighter, like she needs the contact as much as I do.
Inside, the air smells too clean. Antiseptic and powdery, like baby lotion and bleach.
The walls are a soft shade of blue meant to be calming, but all it does is make me more aware of how out of place we feel.
Couples sit around us—some older, some barely out of high school.
Pregnant women flipping through magazines.
One woman talks softly to her bump, rubbing slow circles over her belly like she’s already in love.
And suddenly I feel like an impostor.
Cassie sits beside me stiffly, legs crossed, eyes scanning the room like she’s memorizing the exits. Her other hand is still in mine, but she’s tense, holding herself in that way she does when she doesn’t want anyone to see she’s scared.
And I get it. Because so am I.
There’s something surreal about sitting in a waiting room under fluorescent lights, surrounded by soft pastel colors and the low hum of machines and conversations.
Something disorienting about pretending we belong here.
Like this is just another doctor’s appointment.
Like we’re some normal couple, expecting a baby, filled with the usual nerves and excitement.
Like we’re normal.
But we’re not. We’re a storm that somehow found its calm in each other. We’re chaos and secrets and blood on our hands. We’re lust turned into something neither of us knows how to name yet, but we are here. Together. Holding hands. Waiting to hear the heartbeat of the life we created.
And maybe that’s enough to make it real.
The nurse calls Cassie’s name. I rise with her, hand still wrapped around hers, and we follow into the exam room.
She climbs onto the table, pulling up her shirt, and I sit in the chair beside her.
The moment her skin is exposed, my eyes go soft.
That curve of her belly. My fucking heart feels too big for my chest.
The doctor is an older woman, calm and confident, with kind eyes. She squeezes gel onto Cassie’s stomach and moves the device slowly, eyes intense following the monitor. The room is quiet for a moment, just the hum of the machine, the squelch of gel, and the sharp edge of anticipation.
Then—
“There’s the heartbeat,” the doctor says, pointing to the screen. “Strong and steady.”
Cassie exhales like she’s been holding her breath for weeks. I squeeze her hand tighter.
But the doctor doesn’t stop moving the probe. She angles it again, narrows her eyes .
“And… there’s another one.”
My brain stalls.
“Another what?” I ask, voice low.
Cassie stiffens beside me.
“Another heartbeat,” the doctor confirms. “You’re having twins.”
Cassie’s head snaps toward me. Her eyes are wide, lips parted in shock.
“Twins?” she echoes.
I stare at the screen. Two flickers. Two lives. Two heartbeats that somehow, impossibly, are mine.
Cassie laughs, half a breath, half a sob. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
My throat works, but I can’t find words. I look at her—my wild, chaotic, brilliant Cassie—and see everything I never thought I’d have. Not just one child.
Two.
I reach for her face, cupping her cheek gently. “You’re… incredible,” I manage, voice thick.
She blinks, and for once, she lets herself be soft. Vulnerable. Real. “You think we can handle this?”
“No,” I chuckle through my honesty. “But we’re going to anyway.”
Because she’s mine. Because I’ll burn down the world for her—and now for them.
The doctor goes on, saying something about due dates and appointments, but I barely hear her. I’m still stuck on the image of those twin heartbeats. Still reeling from the knowledge that life didn’t just give me one miracle—it gave me two.
Cassie looks at me, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and in that moment, I swear I’ve never loved anyone more.
There’s something raw in her gaze, something wide open and unguarded that cracks me clean in half.
It’s not just awe, though that’s there too—it’s fear, and wonder, and a kind of fragile hope that makes my chest ache .
Her lashes are wet, but she doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away. Like she needs to see if this is real, if I’m really here, if we’re really doing this—together.
Something swells in my throat, thick and wordless. Because how do you say thank you for choosing me, when you never thought anyone would? How do you explain that the life you thought you didn’t deserve is suddenly sitting in front of you, glowing, terrified, and perfect?
My fingers tighten around hers, anchoring us both. I can’t speak, not with the way my heart is thundering, not with the way emotion surges up and chokes everything else down. So I just look back at her with everything I have—every scar, every promise, every ounce of love I’ve got.
And she sees it.
She has to.
Because she gives me a smile that’s trembling at the edges and full of everything we haven’t said yet—and it undoes me all over again.