Chapter 29 #3
Her trembling legs gripped him as she reached her own moment. Her body arched backward, and he felt her cunt squeezing him in spasms as she came. Sheer beauty.
Shaking, he held himself back, reveling in the sight. She was so fucking gorgeous when she climaxed.
As she sagged back on the bed, her eyes opened, almost completely blue, and clear as after a tropical storm. Her smile said it was his turn.
Yeah, he loved her.
He let the sensations engulf him as he thrust hard, harder, harder, pressing deep.
And then she tilted her hips and deliberately squeezed her pussy around him—and nothing in the world could have kept him from shooting off.
Jesus, he could feel the molten heat flooding from his rocks, the pleasure searing as it worked past the ring on his balls that forced it to travel so fucking, fucking far, all the way to his cock, through his cock, and blazing out in violent, ball-squeezing glory until his entire body was shuddering and each separate cell sang with his climax.
Sometime later, Anne lay with her head on Ben’s shoulder, tucked against his side, still shimmering with pleasure. The man had incredible control.
How she loved him.
And now…she needed to muster her courage. With a sigh of effort, she moved up onto one elbow. The moonlight shone through the balcony doors, illuminating the bed like a fairy tale. Lighting the stern, tanned face of her prince.
At her movement, he opened his eyes. His lips twitched. “Mistress, if you want more, you’re going to have a dead body in this bed.”
She laughed and loved the way a grin transformed his features.
“You’re safe, guard dog.” With one finger, she traced over his thick eyebrows, the lines beside his eyes.
There was the bump where his nose had been broken.
His lower lip was slightly fuller than the top.
A scar made a thin line on his right jaw.
“Ben, are you truly comfortable with being submissive in the bedroom?”
Under her fingers, his brows drew together. “You still worried about that?” He took her hand and kissed the fingertips. “Been looking for this all my life and not knowing what was missing. My Mistress reigns in the bedroom, and that’s just the way I want it.”
Well, that was firm enough.
He ran his hand through her hair, pushing the long strands out of her face. His brows drew together. “What’s wrong, Anne?”
She flattened her hand on his chest, feeling the slow thud of his heart under the thick pectorals. Her pulse had increased as fear slowly unraveled her assumed composure. “I need to talk with you about something else.”
“Shoot.”
“Let’s discuss children,” she said in an even voice. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice her hand was trembling.
He blinked. “You move fast, Mistress.” His lips curved as he ran his hand down her waist, over her hip, to squeeze her ass. “Guess that’s one way to keep us equal. You rule the bedroom. Outside of it, I’ll keep you barefoot and pregnant.”
“You might well get punished for making jokes like that.” Her lips curved. The oaf.
He grinned, then sobered. “Anne, I love you. I’ll give you as many babies as you want if that’s what you’re asking.”
She could only stare at him. His statement was…more…than she’d dreamed of.
“Mistress, this is when you say the words back,” he prompted. And his gaze deepened, his grip on her growing painful. “I love you, Anne,” he said slowly again.
Of course he’d worry, what with her saying they had to talk. His insecurity snapped her out of her paralysis and gave her the right path.
Still on one elbow, she stroked his cheek, feeling the dense bone structure like an outward representation of his solid character. She indulged herself with a slow, sweet kiss before whispering, “I love you, Benjamin. More than I can possibly tell you…but I’ll keep trying.”
The rising moon lit his face, showing the warmth in his amber eyes.
Oh, she really, really did love him.
The next sentence required all her courage.
“As to giving me babies?” She took his hand and flattened it on her stomach. “You already did that.”
Fuck, she was cute sometimes. Ben grinned at his woman. “Right.”
She didn’t laugh.
“What?” The full import of her words circled inside his head, buzzing faintly, like an insect that couldn’t quite be seen. No, no fucking way could she mean…
She was still holding his hand on her belly.
His voice came out higher, not his at all. Maybe one of those rings had emasculated him. “A baby?”
“Mmmhmm. I’m pregnant.” She sighed. “This wasn’t exactly in my plans.”
“But you’re on the pill.” He stopped, knowing he was stuttering.
“That first day we were together? I’d spent the previous three days sick with the stomach flu. Throwing up everything, including my pills.”
That was the night he’d started to fuck her without a condom. His fault. “God, I’m sorry, Anne.”
“Not all your fault. Not all mine.” Her hand was still over his. “I’m going to call this the forces of the universe coming together to create a child.”
A baby.
A little tiny life like…like Sophia.
A baby.
His baby.
He’d be a father. The thoughts spun in his head, a whirlwind of shock and…sheer glory.
“Jesus, Anne.” He pulled her down, wrapped his arms around her, tried to express how he felt with his embrace. He laid his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Her laugh was soft. No, she wasn’t angry with him. Wasn’t unhappy about the baby. She’d had time to get past the shock.
He remembered how she’d held Sophia. How she’d talked to the child at the shelter. How she snuggled with Bronx. Her big heart would easily expand to loving another.
And him? He already loved it—whoever the little one turned out to be. My child. “We need to get married.”
Her shoulders shook with her laugh. “And now who’s moving fast?”
“But…she…he can’t be born without my name. We have to get married. Tomorrow.”
Silence.
He sighed. “All right. Too fast. You want to live together first?”
“I think that might be wise.”
“Got it.” He pulled her closer if that was even possible. Fuck, he loved this woman. “We’ll get married in two weeks then.”
She smacked the top of his head with her open palm.
Fine. A month.