Charlotte
It’s ridiculous that a little white stick can feel like a bomb ticking in my hand.
I grip it anyway, knuckles pale, pulse fluttering. My stomach has been a warzone for days. Nausea rolling in waves, hunger snapping at the edges, fear and hope arm-wrestling inside me until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
I slip into the bathroom and close the door before I lose my courage.
The latch clicks, loud in the silence. Vitali thinks I’m napping.
He thinks I’m resting. He has tried to enforce that rule since the first night.
But I couldn’t possibly sleep with the weight of this possibility pressing into my lungs.
I sit on the edge of the cold marble tub and stare at the box like it’s alive. Like it knows exactly how much power it holds over me.
If it’s negative, I’ll have to smile through the disappointment for his sake. If it’s positive… everything changes. Not just my body, not just my future, but my heart.
Because these last few weeks hasn’t just been insanely amazing sex. It’s felt like the beginning of something I have no business wanting.
I take the test with shaking hands, then place it face-down on the counter. I turn away from it like it’s a solar eclipse that might burn me if I look too soon.
I wash my hands, then dry them. Rituals to fill the time.
The tiles blur as panic climbs higher in my throat.
My breath stutters. I’m terrified. Completely, stupidly terrified.
Because if this is real, I am already too attached.
And the countdown to goodbye has already begun.
Had already started before the ink was dry on the contract.
I push my hands through my hair and try to get a grip on my spiraling thoughts.
The handle to the door shifts.
I go absolutely still.
“Charlotte?” Vitali’s voicefilters through the door, low and controlled in a way that makes my knees threaten mutiny. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I call out in the highest-pitched lie I’ve ever told.
The lock clicks and the door opens, and there he is. Handsome, tall, composed, hair neat, shirt crisp, like the world always bends neatly around him. His gaze sweeps the room once and immediately finds the empty box in the trash, the white stick on the counter by the sink.
He takes one step inside. The tension follows him like a shadow.
“You should have told me.” His voice is soft steel.
I swallow. Hard. “I didn’t want to disappoint you if I’m not...”
His expression darkens as he takes my chin in his fingers and lifts my face. “You could never disappoint me.”
Heat stings behind my eyes. I blink it away.
He looks at the test on the counter, still flipped over. His jaw tightens. His shoulders lock. The air thickens between us until I can hardly breathe.
“Have you looked?” he asks.
“No.”
“We’ve been married for six weeks now,” he says. “That would be long enough to tell?”
I nod. My period was due two weeks ago, but it never came. I spent every nerve wracking day waiting for cramps. For bloating, for anything. Then I began to feel queasy all the time.
I figured once I’m pregnant, the sex will stop, the connection we share will simmer out and the marriage will become part of a business transaction. I’ll fade away from Vitali’s life until the baby arrives.
“I just wanted to hold onto what we had a little longer, but now I need to know.”
He frowns and exhales sharply, a sound like he’s been punched in the ribs, and steps closer. He cradles my face with one hand, guiding me to look at him instead of all the fear swirling inside my head.
“What are you afraid of?” he asks. When I don’t answer straight away he adds, “Charlotte.” His voice, my name, a vow and a warning. “Don’t hide from me.”
“I’m scared that I want this too much.” The truth spills out before I can swallow it. “That I want you too much. And if I’m pregnant, it’s the beginning of the end.”
He threads our fingers together, grounding me, claiming me. My heart hammers so violently I’m sure he can feel it through my palm.
“Let’s see,” he murmurs. “Together.”
He turns the test over.
Two pink lines. Bold and bright.
Positive.
The ground vanishes and I drop to my knees.
I choke on a half-sob, half-laugh, my free hand flying to my belly like I can already feel tiny cells dividing inside me.
Vitali is perfectly still, like a statue carved from shock and reverence, until his grip tightens around my hand and he pulls me into him.
“You’re pregnant,” he says hoarsely, breath ghosting across my forehead. “You’re carrying my child.”
A thrill flares through me so fast it leaves me dizzy. I close my eyes and press my palm harder over my abdomen, over the secret blooming inside me.
He slides his hand over mine, covering it completely. A shield. An ownership.
“You just changed everything,” he whispers.
My voice is a trembling thread. “Is that… good?”
His mouth brushes my ear, his breath burning through me. “It is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
I nod, eyes darting around trying to make sense of my thoughts.
He pulls me against him, and I can feel he is hard and wanting. I frown as I take him in.
“Do you think this changes what we are?” he asks.
“I just thought that…well…” I try to find the right words to explain myself. Finally, I settle on, “I figured this was a business transaction, that once I was pregnant you would consider you end fulfilled and would no longer want me in that way.”
He groans as he presses his hips forward, crushing his length against me.
“If you want me to leave you alone now, I will. But to be clear, Charlotte, that is not what I want.”
“I want you inside me. Right now. I want to feel you lose control because I’m carrying your child. Your legacy.”
Something savage flares in his eyes.
The pregnancy test clatters to the marble floor, forgotten. My nightgown is already rucked up; he shoves it higher as his fingers dip to my bare pussy and beging to work my intimate folds. His mouth is hot on my neck, his teeth scrape at the frantic beat of my pulse.
“Tell me again,” he growls against my throat, hips rolling so the thick ridge of his cock nudges my soaked folds through the thin cotton of his trousers. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me while I’m pregnant with your future,” I breathe, shameless, desperate. “I want to feel how much you need this, need me, need to keep filling me even now that it’s done.”
He snarls something filthy in Russian that I only understand part of, and carries me out of the bathroom. I expect the bed, but he doesn’t make it that far. Three strides and my back meets the wide, velvet chaise by the window, morning light spilling over us.
He drops to his knees between my spread thighs, yanks the nightgown over my head in one violent tug, and then his mouth is on my breast, hot and wet and worshipping. My nipples are so sensitive now that the first hard suck drags a broken cry from my throat.
“These are mine,” he rasps, tongue swirling, teeth grazing. “Going to get heavier, fuller. Going to leak for me one day, malyshka”
I sob a yes, fingers spearing into his hair, holding him there as his tongue flickers over my nipple.
He switches to the other breast, sucking hard enough that sparks shoot straight to my clit.
His hand slides between my legs, two thick fingers pushing inside me without warning.
I’m drenched, swollen, and the heel of his palm grinds against my clit until my hips are chasing his hand in shameless circles.
“Soaked,” he groans. “Your perfect pregnant cunt is greedy for me already.”
I keen, thighs trembling. “Vitali, please,”
He stands just long enough to rip his belt open, shove his trousers and briefs down. His cock springs free, flushed dark, a bead of pre-cum pearling at the tip. My mouth waters. I want to taste him, but he’s already back between my legs, lifting my hips, angling me exactly how he wants.
“Lift your legs up and look at me,” he orders.
I do as he says, lifting my legs in a wide V holding them up with my hands on the back of my thighs. He loves it when I’m on display, where he can get a full view of everything he wants to see and then fuck me until we both go insane.
I open my eyes just as he drags the head of his cock through my folds, coating himself, teasing my clit until I’m writhing. Then he notches at my entrance and pushes in, slow, relentless, stretching me open inch by inch.
The impossible fullness makes me cry out, and he stills, jaw clenched so tight I see the muscle jump.
“Breathe, Charlotte. Let me in. Let me feel what I did to you.”
I nod frantically, forcing my body to soften, to take him. He slides deeper, deeper, until his hips meet mine and he’s seated to the hilt. My walls flutter around him, adjusting, and he wraps his hands around my trembling thighs, placing my legs against his biceps.
“Feel that?” he rasps. “Feel how deep, how perfectly you take me now? This cunt was made for my cock. Made to be bred by me.”
I sob his name, legs locked straight and high.
He pulls back and thrusts in again, hard. Once. Twice to ensure I can take him fully, comfortably. Then he sets a punishing rhythm, the chaise creaking beneath us and bumping against the wall, my back arching off the velvet as he fucks me like the world is ending.
“Going to keep you pregnant,” he growls over me. “As soon as this one is born I’m putting another in you. And another.” His teeth are clenched together, his words coming out as threats that only make me hotter for him. “I want you round and glowing and dripping for me every fucking always.”
The words detonate inside me. Pleasure coils vicious and bright at tip of my clit.
“Yes, yes, Vitali, please,” I beg, beginning one of my hands to my mound, teasing either side of my clit, knowing direct contact will throw me over the edge and I don’t want that yet.
“You’re going to get so big with my baby,” he snarls, palm splaying over my lower belly, pressing just enough that I feel him even deeper. “Want to watch these tits leak milk while I fuck you from behind. Want to keep you so full of me you’ll never be empty again.”
“Yes,” I moan and it comes out on a long keen. I can’t stop myself now. His eyes rake over me, my tits, bouncing in time with his thrusts, and lower to where my fingers don’t quite touch my clit. His pupils blow.
“Look at how well you take me. Look at how your tight pussy stretches around my thick cock.”
I lift my head and see the space where we are joined. My pussy spasms so hard I fall back again. Vitali lets go of my left leg and pushes it aside, making me wider than ever for him, then pushes my fingers aside.
He pinches my clit and I rocket over the edge of my orgasm and let it take me in a tidal wave I can’t fight.
I come with a scream, clenching around him so hard his rhythm shatters.
He slams in twice more, then buries himself deep and groans, pulsing hot inside me, flooding me, marking me all over again even though the job is already done.
When his groans to turn soft whimpers as his cock jerks it’s final, weaker emptying, I realize something.
He makes me feel powerful.
The way he comes undone, the way he owns both our pleasure, the way he breaks apart deep inside of me. It’s something I don’t want to lose.
I bring a man like Vitali Dubovich to his knees. I make him groan, moan, roar and whimper with pleasure.
It’s addictive.
We stay locked together, panting, sweat-slick and shaking. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he shifts us carefully, settling back on the chaise with me straddling his lap, still impaled, his arms banded around me like he’ll never let go.
His hand returns to my belly, reverent now, thumb stroking slow circles.
“Keep me inside you,” he says quietly, fiercely. “Ride me like the fucking goddess you are.”