Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Dmitry
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
Callista’s fingers squeeze mine as she leads me forward, her laugh soft and secretive. A silk blindfold covers my eyes, blocking out everything but the sound of her voice and the faint click of her heels on the floor.
“Patience,” she says, her tone laced with amusement. “You’ll ruin the surprise if you keep asking.”
I sigh, pretending to be annoyed even though I’m smiling. “You know I hate surprises.”
“I know,” she says, tugging me closer. “That’s why I planned one.”
Her hand is warm, her steps confident. I can hear faint music. Soft piano notes. A sweet and buttery aroma drifts through the air. My stomach tightens, curiosity rising.
“Okay,” she says finally, her voice a whisper at my ear. “You can take it off now.”
I pull off the blindfold, blinking as light floods my eyes.
And then I stop breathing.
The room has been transformed.
It’s quiet and private, decorated with soft white lights that hang across the ceiling like stars.
There’s a small table set for two, covered with linen and silverware, candles flickering between us.
On one side of the room, a cake sits waiting—dark chocolate, decorated with tiny edible gears, a nod to my obsession with precision and control.
“Happy birthday,” she says shyly.
For a long moment, I can’t speak.
She did this for me.
“It’s…” I clear my throat, still stunned. “Perfect.”
Her eyes brighten. “You like it?”
“Like it?” I step closer, sliding a hand around her waist. “You planned all this just for me.”
She nods, looking pleased. “You’ve done so much for me. You take care of me, you’ve been my rock. This was the least I could do.”
My chest feels too tight. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
The table is filled with food—blini with caviar, pelmeni, roast chicken, and honey cake. My mother used to make meals like this before she died. My heart fills with emotion.
“You talked to Lena, didn’t you?” I ask, recognizing the dishes.
Callista grins. “I asked her what you like to eat. I wanted it to feel like home. I wanted to feed you the dishes you love on your birthday.”
It does feel like home. Not my old, childhood home. But a new one that Callista has created for me. My chest muscles squeeze. She could create this kind of warm, loving home for me and my kids in the future.
“Come on,” she says, tugging me toward the table. “Sit down before it gets cold.”
I obey, watching as she pours wine and hands me a plate.
We eat together, laughing when she drops a bit of sour cream on the tablecloth. I tease her about it, and she retaliates by flicking a crumb at me.
“This is good,” I say, cutting into the roast chicken. “Better than what most restaurants serve.”
“I had help,” she says with mock humility. “You think I know how to cook Russian food without Lena’s guidance?”
I shake my head, smiling. “Still impressive. You made all this happen.”
She blushes, eyes dropping to her plate. “You deserve it.”
After we finish eating, she lights the candles on the cake. “Make a wish,” she says softly.
I look at her across the table, her face bathed in golden light, and I already know my wish.
It’s her. Always her.
When the last candle flickers out, she brings me a forkful of cake. I take it from her hand, then catch her wrist before she can pull away, leaning forward to kiss her.
Her lips taste like chocolate and wine.
“I love you,” I whisper. “So much it feels like my heart might explode.”
She exhales a shaky breath. “I love you, too. You’re the one for me, Dmitry. I can’t imagine loving anyone else.”
I see it then—the flicker of fear in her eyes.
“What is it?” I ask.
She hesitates. “I know we’re from different worlds. I’m just scared about the future. About how we can be together.”
I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine. “You’re the one for me, too, Callista. I don’t care what happens after graduation. I’m not going anywhere. I want you in my life.”
She nods slowly, smiling through the uncertainty.
But as I watch her, I know she doesn’t understand the depth of what I mean.
I don’t just want her beside me after graduation as my girlfriend.
I want her bound to me.
I want her wearing my ring, carrying my name, my child.
I want her forever.
I take her hand, pulling her to her feet. Before she can speak, I capture her mouth in a kiss that's anything but gentle. It's rough, savage, driven by a need I can't contain. My tongue invades her mouth, claiming her, tasting the sweetness of cake and wine mixed with something uniquely her.
She gasps against my lips, her hands gripping my shoulders for balance. I deepen the kiss, my hand sliding down her body until my fingers find the hem of her skirt. I slip beneath it, stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh, moving higher until I reach the damp fabric of her panties.
"You didn't get me a gift," I murmur against her mouth, my voice rough with desire. "So I'm going to devour you instead."
She laughs, breathless and flushed. "That was the gift I planned to give you."
"Good," I growl, spinning her around and pushing her against the wall. The force of it makes her gasp, her palms pressing flat against the cool surface. "Because I'm taking it right now."
I push her skirt up over her hips, exposing the curve of her ass. My fingers hook into the sides of her panties, yanking them down her legs. She steps out of them, her breathing already ragged.
I undo my belt, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. My pants and boxers fall to the floor, freeing my aching cock. I grip it, stroking myself as I press against her from behind, letting her feel how hard I am for her.
"Feel that?" I ask, my voice a low rasp in her ear. "That's what you do to me, babygirl. You make me lose control."
She whimpers, arching her back, pushing her ass against me. I run the head of my cock through her slick folds, coating myself in her arousal. She's already dripping wet, her body ready for me.
"Please," she whispers, her voice trembling with need.
"Please what?" I tease, circling her entrance but not pushing in. "Tell Daddy what you want."
"I want you inside me," she gasps. "Please, Dmitry. I need you."
"Not yet," I say, my thumb finding her clit and rubbing slow, torturous circles. "First, I'm going to make you beg properly."
She moans, her hips bucking against my hand. I increase the pressure, my fingers stroking her swollen nub until she's trembling, her legs shaking. She's so responsive, so perfect, her body singing for me.
"You're soaking wet," I murmur, sliding two fingers inside her tight heat. "Your pussy is greedy, isn't it? Hungry for my cock."
"Yes," she whimpers, her walls clenching around my fingers. "Please, I need more."
I pump my fingers in and out of her, curling them to hit that spot that makes her cry out. My thumb continues its relentless assault on her clit, and soon she's panting, her body taut with pleasure.
"You want my cock, babygirl?" I ask, my voice dark with promise. "You want me to fill you up, breed you until you're dripping with my cum?"
"Yes!" she cries out, her voice breaking. "Please, Daddy, please fuck me."
I pull my fingers out, bringing them to my mouth and tasting her. She's sweet and musky, addictive. "You taste so good," I tell her. "But I need to feel you wrapped around my cock."
I position myself at her entrance, the thick head of my cock pressing against her slick opening. I grip her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh, and thrust forward, burying myself inside her in one hard stroke.
She screams, her body jolting forward, her hands scrabbling against the wall for purchase. I give her no time to adjust, pulling back and slamming into her again, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," I growl, my hips pistoning against her. "So tight, so perfect. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it?"
"Yes," she gasps, her voice barely coherent. "It's yours, all yours."
"Damn right it is," I say, one hand moving to grip her hair, pulling her head back. "And I'm going to turn your pussy inside out. I’ll make sure to claim my birthday gift properly."
She moans, her pussy clenching around me at my words. I can feel her getting wetter, her arousal coating my cock with every thrust.
"You like that, don't you?" I rasp, my pace never faltering.
"You like the idea of me coming inside you, painting your pussy walls with my cum." I lean closer as my strokes become more aggressive. I bite her ear. “You like it because the consequences excite you. You think I don’t know what goes on in your filthy mind, but I know it’s full of images of you with a swollen belly.”
"Yes," she whimpers, her body shaking with the force of my thrusts. "I want it. I want my body to change because your seed is growing inside me."
I reach around, my fingers finding her clit again. I rub it in tight circles, the stimulation pushing her higher and higher. She's crying out with every thrust, her body wound so tight I know she's close.
"Come for me," I command, my voice harsh. "Come all over my cock, babygirl. Show me how much you want my seed."
Her body convulses, her pussy clamping down on me like a vice as she screams her release. The sensation is overwhelming, her inner walls milking my cock, demanding my cum.
"Fuck," I groan, my own control shattering. I thrust deep, as deep as I can go, my cock pulsing as I empty myself inside her. Rope after rope of hot cum floods her womb, filling her completely.
I don't pull out. I stay buried inside her, my hand moving to her stomach, pressing against the flat plane as if I can feel my seed taking root.
"Mine," I whisper, my voice possessive and fierce. "You're mine, Callista. And I'm never letting you go."
She leans back against me, her body still trembling from her orgasm. "Yours," she echoes softly. "Always yours."
I hold her there, my cock still inside her, my cum warm and sticky between her thighs.
“This was the best birthday present ever.” I kiss her cheek, my cock pulsing inside her unprotected cunt.
Morning filters through the blinds in long, golden stripes, falling across the sheets tangled around us. Callista is still asleep, her body curved into mine, her hair fanned out on the pillow like spilled silk. My hand rests over her stomach, warm and protective.
I press a kiss to the back of her ear. “Good morning,” I whisper, my voice rough from sleep.
She stirs, sighs softly, and for a second everything feels perfect. Then I notice how pale she looks. Her skin is almost translucent, her lips colorless.
“Callista?” I murmur.
She blinks at me, dazed. Then her face twists.
Before I can react, she gags, peeling my arm away and stumbling out of bed.
“Hey, wait—what’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up fast.
She’s already in the bathroom, the door open as she kneels in front of the toilet. The sound of her retching makes my chest tighten. I’m beside her in seconds, gathering her hair back into my hand, holding it gently away from her face.
“It’s okay,” I say quietly. “Breathe. You’re alright, babygirl.”
Her body shakes with another wave. I stroke her back slowly, trying to calm her. “That’s it. Just breathe through it.”
When it passes, she slumps against the cool tile, wiping her mouth with trembling fingers. Her eyes meet mine, wide and glassy.
“This has been happening all week,” she whispers.
My pulse spikes. “You’ve been sick all week and didn’t tell me?”
She looks down, ashamed. “I thought it was just a hangover at first. But… now I think I might be pregnant.”
The world stops moving for a moment.
Pregnant.
The word echoes inside my skull, heavy and electric.
She looks so small sitting there on the bathroom floor, her hair falling loose around her face, her eyes full of fear.
I kneel in front of her and take her hand. My heart is pounding, but all I feel is a rush of fierce protectiveness.
“Don’t worry,” I say softly, leaning in to kiss her collarbone. “Whatever happens, I’m here. Always. I’ll never leave your side.”
Her breath trembles against my cheek. “Dmitry…”
“Shh.” I brush her hair behind her ear. “We’ll figure it out together.”
I stand, tugging on my jeans. “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll get what we need.”
She frowns up at me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to the pharmacy,” I say, grabbing my keys from the nightstand. “You need a test.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
I kiss her forehead, feeling her skin cool and damp against my lips. “Wait for me, baby. I’ll be right back.”
As I walk out the door, my mind spins with a hundred thoughts—shock, fear, and something I never expected to feel.
Hope.