Chapter 1 His Perfect Little Heirs #5
This stunning woman has been my twin pillar since I was born. But this is not my decision to make. I consider her my oldest, most precious friend, but her affections lay with other women and mine with only one—Fawn.
Aurora married me all those years ago to cement her place in the Cosa Nostra, the only way allowed—by being my wife. For my little deer, we broke our vows. We risked her position in the Family; the divorce went through a week ago.
And she is no longer beholden to me, to the District, but her heart still beats true for the Cosa Nostra. She wanted it more than even I. She wanted it like her father did, with a single-minded sense of place and purpose.
Which is why, the Godfather, our Don in Sicily, Alceu, has rightly acknowledged her loyalty and abilities. “Were she born with a cock, se, you may be dead, my boy,” he had said to me on the phone several weeks ago.
He’s probably right.
We may have been rivals, in lieu of joining our houses. We may not have fallen into the same roles or developed the same respect…
We will never know.
But alas, Alceu has given her a place at his side—his right side. A woman. It is unheard of, but for Aurora—for my ex-wife—exceptions are made, rules are bent, and men who defy this new world will find death fast.
She’s just as ruthless as me.
More so, perhaps.
A woman does ruthless deeds in a very different way to a man; I am certain she will impress the Family in Sicily. She is taking her sisters with her, where they will be under her guidance and protection.
And from afar, I will always be her ally.
Her friend.
I smooth my tie down my shirt as she approaches me, her dark hair perfectly straight down her back, her skin a warm olive glow that radiates not only beauty but power. “You’re not going to miss me, are you, Clay?”
A smile hits my lips. “Missing you will not change your mind. It is a brilliant waste of my time, but yes, I still will.”
She places her palm on my cheek. “We both have what we want now, Clay.”
“Alceu is not long for this world, should you need my support when he go—"
“Clay.” She waves her hand at me, dismissive, and my smile widens further as she is the only person I truly see as my equal in all things. “I am going to rule over Sicily—my country.”
“Yes,” I agree because she will. I have no doubt she’ll slice her way through the made-men in the Family for her place at the head when the time comes. “But should you need me.”
“Then I will call.”
A small whimper causes heat to hit my head and awaken my instinct to protect and serve. I turn to see my little deer staring at Aurora with the same sadness I feel but do not outwardly show.
I stare at her. “Sweet girl?”
Fawn looks at Aurora. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Fawn,” Aurora coos, sashays towards her, and places a small kiss on either side of her cheek.
“Do not cry for me. This is not because of you. You—” A gloss hits Aurora’s whiskey-coloured eyes— “have given my Family stability. You have grounded an impossible man, and for that, you’re a queen.
The District only needs one.” She lifts my little deer’s chin.
“Protect him,” she says gently before turning to face me. “From his self-destructive isolation.”
I smirk. “Madonna mia.”
Aurora says to Fawn, “You need to be strong with him. Tell him what you want. What we spoke about. He may not always agree, but he will listen, and you are far more persuasive than you think.”
Fawn tries to smile. “When will I see you again?”
“Well, I know you want to wait until after the birth of your children to set a date for the wedding. I understand you want to be free of pregnancy to truly enjoy all aspects of your wedding and honeymoon. I will be back for that.”
“I thought you could be my maid of honour.”
“I would. It would be my privilege to do so; however, I thought, perhaps…” Aurora brushes a piece of blonde hair over Fawn’s shoulder, and Fawn sighs, clearly liking the affection. “I could give you away.”
Fawn inhales with delight.
It occurs to me at this moment that Aurora has taken on a motherly figure to my little deer.
The affection was misplaced before, when I thought she wanted a female lover, but was seemingly desperate for a mother.
I suppose for a young girl who knew no love or stability from a woman, where to place affection might be confusing.
My little deer’s eyes fill with tears. “Yes, please.”
“I will see you for that very important task.”
She leaves Fawn’s side after a small embrace and approaches me. Her elegant, smooth demeanour only lightly conceals the emotion of leaving her city and confidant.
I look down at her. “I am proud of you.”
She lifts to her toes and kisses both my cheeks. “I am proud of you.”
Without another word of sentiment, she turns on her heels, strides down the waterfall of steps, and climbs into the backseat of the idling Chrysler.
Her driver leads a convoy of cars away from her family home, from the house she grew up in, without sadness.
I know Aurora. She will brush a single tear that dares escape, not for the house or the District, purely for a part of her life now concluded, before smiling at the opportunities ahead of her.
I turn to see my sweet girl with tears streaming down her cheeks and falling from an adorable wobbling chin. “I’m worried about her,” she says. “What if they are mean to her.”
“I would be far more concerned about the men in Sicily that think her simply a woman.” I loosen my tie at my collar.
A sudden urge to have my little deer suck my cock rushes heat along my skin.
It’s her tears, the trembling lip, her concern.
It makes me want to please her, redirect her attention, and show her our bond.
Teach her about my devotion to her body.
She shuffles her feet under my gaze. “I know that look, Sir.” Her throat rolls as she swallows over a lump. “I have something I have to ask you, can I? I have to do it now.”
Studying her, her finger twirling her long blonde hair by her waist, I recognise uncertainty in her mannerisms and recall Aurora’s words from moments ago: “Tell him what you want. What we spoke about.”
“Use your voice, sweet girl.”
Squaring her shoulders, she walks towards me.
A big blue eye and a doe-like green one lock on me with severity, her neck craning when she stops at my feet.
“I want a home birth, Sir.” She nods to further press her statement.
“I want to have our babies under the moon, in a bath, with a midwife. No doctors. Just us and the magic of the world. I don’t want them to be a number on a board when they are born.
Or have a tag on their wrist. I’ve been a name on a file my whole life. Please.”
Christ.
Impossible.
Finding her chin, I take hold of her and brush my thumb over her lower lip.
The image of her mouth open and saliva dripping around my cock slides into my mind.
I get harder. “I know I swore to give you everything you ask for, but not at the expense of your safety. The only time I will deny you anything will be under that premise. I will not allow anything short of the best care under the eyes of the best doctors in the country. My answer is no, sweet girl.”
She tears up, and I clench my teeth to abate the need to retract my statement. I cannot choose her happiness over her safety. Will not.
“I don’t like hospitals,” she says weakly.
I despise the meek volume of her lovely voice, so I try to soothe her. “I will be there the entire time. Safety comes first, little deer. Share the moon, your magic, with our children after their birth.”
She chews on her lower lip, probably tasting the salt of her own sorrow. A sting to match my words. I’ll fix this. I need to make her come, to spoil her for pleasure. Remind her how I’ll please her, but for this, I can’t falter.
Less than ten minutes later, I’m on my back and pulling her down to sit on my face, the scent of her sensual skin engorging my cock to the point of pain, making it throb with its own heartbeat.
“Fuck,” I bite out a growl, covering my mouth and nose with her sweet pussy. I look up to see the lower curve of her swollen stomach; the pretty sight rips another groan from me.
I like her pregnant.
I glide my tongue up and down her slit, chasing the ripples of her need as her skin reacts to my attention. She grinds on me.
Christ, sweet girl.
That’s it.
Sit on my tongue.
Breathing through my nose, I single-mindedly suck and lick her to a shuddering mess. I gorge on her orgasm, lathering my tongue with her, wrenching more of her climax from her greedy little pussy.
I need more of her.
Though she is all over me, inside my soul, fuelling my heart and directing my body, I want more of her. My sweet girl—the one person in the world who handles my evil.
When I don’t stop as she shudders the remains of her pleasure away, her moans become a perpetual whimper. I don’t let up. I lick and suck her until her muscles can no longer hold her upright.
After I lay her down to sleep, I’m kept from slumber by our earlier conversation. Her dreamcatcher sways slightly by the bedpost, reminding me how these ideals are part of her passions. Of her humanity.
But a doula is not a doctor.
A home birth is archaic, impractical—Christ.
I turn to watch her sleep, heavy blonde lashes lay over her flushed cheeks, and she stuns my heart to a stop.
I love her.
There has never been a more lovely sight. I do not believe in her spirituality, but I believe in her. Still… her safety must always come first.
9th Month Pregnant
The sheets are cold. A jarring sensation given my pregnant body is otherwise prickling with warmth and drenched in perspiration.
In my hazy sleep state, I recall altering the air-conditioner last night, but I'm certain I didn't switch it off. I reach out, seeking Sir’s hard, muscular form, but find his side of the bed empty but for a slight dip—a small patch where his body recently warmed.
Moaning, I slowly come to.