Chapter 58 Vin
Vin
Idon’t sleep. Every nerve ending in my body is alive, tuned into the feathery touch of Sophie’s fingertips tracing patterns across my back. She thinks I’m asleep. She thinks I don’t feel the way she’s memorizing me with her hands.
I force my breathing to stay even, deep, while every cell in my body screams at me to turn around and pull her into my arms. To kiss her until neither of us can breathe. To fuck her until I forget that tomorrow I’m sealing my fate with Ashlyn MacCuinn.
But I stay still and let her touch me until her breathing evens out. Her hand finally stills against my shoulder blade, and I know she’s asleep.
That’s when I turn.
The moonlight coming through the window catches on her face. Her dark hair is spread across the pillow, and those fucking eyelashes—long and thick—cast shadows on her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted, and I can see the rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin tank top she’s wearing.
My queen. Except she’s not. She can’t be.
I think about my mother. About the life she led, married to Aurelio. The fear in her eyes every time he came home drunk, the bruises she tried to hide with makeup and long sleeves. The way she’d smile at me and Tommy like everything was fine, when everybody fucking knew it wasn’t.
She was soft like Sophie, kind. She saw the good in people always. And it got her killed. Some fuck who wanted to get to Aurelio got her instead, putting a bullet in her brain. I was 12.
That’s what happens to the women we love. It’s what this life does to beautiful, gentle things. Sophie deserves better than that and better than me. But fuck, I can’t let her go.
A physical pain sits in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I reach out, trace the curve of her cheek with my thumb, and she makes this little sound in her sleep, leaning into my touch.
I think about Emilia. About the twins, Aria and Adriano. My nieces and nephew, perfect and innocent with their whole lives ahead of them.
I fucking want that. I want a baby with Sophie’s big brown eyes, her smile, and her refusal to let this world make her hard.
If I can’t have Sophie as my wife, if I can’t wake up next to her every morning for the rest of my life, then I want part of her. I want our child. Something that connects us forever, something no Irish contract can take away from me.
And I can’t risk her getting pregnant with someone else’s baby.
The thought of some other man touching her, fucking her, giving her a baby while I’m stuck married to a woman I don’t even fucking know—fuck no.
I move closer, press my body against hers. She’s warm and soft, and when I slide my hand under her tank top, her skin is like silk.
She stirs but doesn’t wake as I pull her panties down, as I position myself between her legs. Her body knows me even in sleep, her thighs parting to make room for me, her pussy already getting wet as I stroke her clit with gentle circles.
I push inside her slowly, carefully, and she gasps, still mostly asleep but responding to me on instinct. Her walls are tight and perfect around my cock, gripping me like she was fucking made for me.
“Vin?” Her voice is sleepy, confused, but her hips roll forward, taking me deeper.
“Shh,” I whisper against her neck, my hands bracketing her face. “I’ve got you, baby. Just let me take care of you.”
She’s waking up more now, her eyes fluttering open in the dark. I can see the confusion there but also the need that mirrors mine.
“You’re so good, Sophia,” I murmur, my hips moving in slow, deep strokes. “Such a good girl for your padrone. My perfect queen.”
She whimpers, her hands coming up to clutch my shoulders, and I see the moment she surrenders, the moment she stops questioning and opens to me.
Her jaw drops open as she throws her head back, taking me in.
I lean down, spit into her open mouth, and swallow her gasp with a kiss that’s more possession than affection.
My tongue is aggressive in her mouth the way my cock is pounding into her pussy, claiming every inch of her, marking her as mine even if she fucking isn’t.
When I pull back, she’s panting, her pupils blown wide with lust.
“That’s what I thought,” I growl, my pace picking up. “You love being owned by this cock. You love it when I use that pussy. Isn’t this what you’re always begging for?”
“Yes.” It comes out as a broken whimper.
“Yes what?”
“Padrone! Sí, padrone—”
“That’s better.” I bite down on her neck, hard enough that she’ll feel it tomorrow when I’m gone. I pin her wrists above her head and spread her legs wider, pushing deeper until I’m hitting that spot inside her that makes her shake. “Now beg.”
“Please—” She’s trembling beneath me, her body coiling tight with the need to come.
“Beg, Sophia.” I’m close, so fucking close, my cock swelling inside her. “Beg me to come inside you.”
I feel it the moment before she breaks, the way her whole body goes stiff, the way her breath catches.
I lean close to her ear, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Beg me, regina.”
That does it.
“Please!” She’s crying now, tears streaming down as her hips buck against mine. “Please, Vin, please come inside me, I need it, I need you, please—”
We come together, her pussy clamping down on my cock so hard it almost hurts, my release pouring into her in hot pulses that seem to go on forever.
“FUCK.” I can’t stop, can’t control it, my hips jerking with each wave. “Fuck, baby.”
She’s shaking apart beneath me, sobbing my name, and I kiss her through it, like I can make up for everything I’m about to do to her with this one moment.
When it’s over, when we’re both boneless and gasping for air, I don’t pull out. I stay buried inside her, my forehead resting against hers, our breath mingling in the small space between us.
“Vin…” Her voice is so small, so fragile. “What are we doing?”
I close my eyes. Press a kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t fucking know.”
But I do know.
I’m breeding her. I’m getting her pregnant so that when I’m married to Ashlyn MacCuinn, when I’m playing the role of dedicated boss to secure the Irish alliance, part of me will be growing inside Sophie.
Our child will have her eyes. Her smile. Her goodness. And it might just be enough to keep me from becoming my father.
I roll onto my side, pulling her with me, keeping my cock buried deep inside her. She curls into my chest, her leg around my waist, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight.
I hold her while she falls back to sleep, one hand stroking her hair, the other resting possessively on her flat stomach where my child might already be growing.
And I let myself pretend just for tonight that this is my life. That I get to fall asleep inside her every night, wake up next to her every morning. That the babies we make together will be as fucking amazing as she is.
That I’m not about to destroy the only good thing that’s ever happened to me.