Epilogue
Anya
I haven’t taken my birth control pills in over two months. Not because I didn’t notice Riccardo taking them away or because I couldn’t find them. He put them in his office desk drawer, the first place I looked, but because I can’t get Riccardo’s words out of my head.
Do you know how good you’d look pregnant?
Not that it’s about how I’ll look when I’m pregnant. No. I just like that he wants to knock me up. In fact, I haven’t been able to think about anything else and my ovaries are drooling over my husband.
A little girl who would grow up knowing she’ll be able to take over for us one day. Or a little boy who’d look just like his daddy.
Another person to join our family.
I want that. And the best part? It rarely takes much to convince Riccardo to try for one. In fact, it barely takes me walking into a room to get him horny.
And that’s exactly how I like it.
Still, I didn’t buy this new lingerie set to catch dust in the closet. Nope. I bought it to seduce the man who is about to make me a mama.
I walk past Bethany’s desk, receiving a polite nod. By now, she’s used to me dropping by Riccardo’s office whenever I like. I open his office door without knocking, open my coat, and lean casually against the frame as I take him in. He’s at his desk, one hand resting next to his keyboard, the other resting on a stack of papers, his tie loosened and shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to show the muscles of his forearms.
He doesn’t look up at first, not expecting me and too focused on whatever is in front of him. But when he does, his gaze catches on the lace and silk barely covering me. He leans back in his chair, giving me all of his attention. His expression darkens as his eyes roam over every inch of me, taking in the sheer panels, the delicate straps, and the way the fabric clings to my curves. He really does like seeing me dress up and the fancy dress he got me is no longer the only high fashion item he’s gifted me. Though, this piece, I picked out myself.
I step into the room, letting the door click shut behind me. All Bethany got to see was the back of my coat, though she might suspect what we’re up to next. My heels echo softly on the hardwood floor as I approach his desk, and he leans back in his chair, his attention solely on me.
“I thought you might need a distraction,” I murmur, stopping just shy of his reach.
His eyes flick to my face, then back down, and he doesn’t bother responding. Instead, he pushes his chair back just enough to give me room, a silent invitation I don’t need twice. I round the desk slowly, sliding onto it in front of him, my thighs brushing his knees.
His hands are on me immediately, rough palms skimming up my legs, over the lace garters that hold my stockings in place. He grips my thighs firmly, parting them, and I arch an eyebrow at his impatience.
“Riccardo,” I start, but whatever teasing I intended dies on my lips when his mouth finds my skin. He starts at my knee, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of my thigh, his stubble grazing me just enough to make me shiver. His hands slide higher, pushing the hem of the lace teddy up until it pools around my waist.
The heat of his breath trails over me, and I gasp when he bites down, just enough to leave a mark. He doesn’t stop there. Instead, he pulls me forward until I’m perched on the edge of the desk, his hands spreading me wide for him.
The first touch of his mouth is almost overwhelming, and I grab for something to hold onto, my fingers curling around the edge of the desk. He groans against me, the sound vibrating through me, and I tilt my hips toward him. Might as well take advantage while he’s offering.
Not that it’s a rare offer.
Still, I’ve got needs and I might as well let him take care of me. Especially because he’s fucking good at it. The way he works me over has my mind go a bit hazy, his tongue and teeth nipping, licking, and teasing me. I’m trembling by the time he finally pulls back, his lips glistening, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“Stand up,” he orders, his voice rough and low. When I don’t move fast enough, he grips my hips and lifts me to my feet himself, spinning me around so that my palms press flat against the cool surface of the desk.
My breath hitches when I hear the metallic clink of his belt, the sound sending a thrill through me. He doesn’t waste time either. His hands are back on me in an instant, guiding me to bend over, and then he plunges into me, using my slick wetness to drive into me fast and deep.
The first thrust steals my breath. There’s no hesitation, no gentleness, just the raw, possessive way he takes me, filling me completely. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise as he sets a punishing pace, each snap of his hips driving me against his desk.
“Anya,” he growls, his voice a harsh rasp against my ear as he leans over me. His chest presses against my back, and one of his hands snakes around to grip my throat, tilting my head back so he can bite at the curve of my shoulder.
The only other sounds I hear are the slap of skin and our ragged breaths. I meet him thrust for thrust, pushing back against him, chasing the building pressure that’s quickly spiraling out of control.
He doesn’t slow down for even a second, and I know he can’t last much longer. The way his breathing grows ragged is giving him away. And I don’t want him to hold back. Not now. Not when I know exactly what will tip me over the edge.
“Do it,” I gasp, my nails clawing at the desk as he slams into me. “I want you to fill me.”
He groans, the sound low and guttural, and his pace falters for a split second. Then his hands tighten their grip on my waist again, as if trying to anchor himself while his control slips. The raw, feral noise he makes when I push back into him tells me he heard me loud and clear.
“You want that?” He asks over the slap of our bodies. “You want me to fill you up? Get you pregnant?”
“Yes,” I cry, not even ashamed of the desperation in my voice. “Give it to me, Riccardo. I want your cum in me.”
His movements become erratic, his thrusts deeper and harder, each one pushing me closer to the edge. “You’ll look so good,” he growls into my ear, his voice raw and full of hunger. “Carrying my baby, round and perfect. Everyone will know who you belong to.”
The words alone are enough to send me spiraling and my release tears through me like a pulsing wave. I cry out, my body clenching tightly around him, and that’s his undoing.
“ Tesoro mio ,” he groans, his voice breaking as he drives into me one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. His body shakes against mine as he lets go completely, giving me exactly what I begged for.
The heat of him floods me, and I feel a strange, primal satisfaction at the thought of it taking root. My knees tremble as he holds me in place, his arms wrapping around me from behind, pulling me into his chest as he catches his breath.
He doesn’t pull out immediately, and I don’t want him to. Instead, his hands slide over my abdomen, his fingers spreading wide as if imagining it already. “You’ll look beautiful,” he murmurs again, his lips brushing against my ear, softer now but no less possessive.
I turn my head slightly, just enough to catch his gaze, and I can see it in his eyes. There is a dark satisfaction in knowing he’s claimed me completely. And I can’t help but smile, because he might not realize it, but I’ve claimed him right back. His DNA is inside me now, and I’m the one in control.
After a moment, his hands sliding up to rest on my waist as he pulls me upright, turning me to face him.
His lips find mine and I melt into him, my legs still trembling.
“That distraction,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice warm with satisfaction, “was exactly what I needed.”