Chapter 41
Harper
Rocco strikes my ass with a smack that sets my tender flesh ablaze. His handprint burns like a brand, and my clit pulses with unanswered need.
From the first slap of his palm, an inferno has been building. The harder the spanking, the sharper the sting, the wetter I become.
Two thick fingers curl inside me, his thumb finally gives my clit attention, and a broken cry tears from my throat. My back arches, and I grind shamelessly against his hand, begging him to go deeper.
“More, Rocco. Give me one more.” His fingers and another rough spanking are all I need to ease this desperate ache. “Please—”
He withdraws, and I part my lips to protest when he grips my waist, and suddenly, I’m airborne.
The world spins, and I bounce on the mattress, my limbs splayed. “What the—”
He seizes the collar of my shirt—his shirt—with both hands and rips it open in a single violent motion. My bra follows, the lace splitting down the middle.
“I’ll buy you another one,” he pants. “A whole damn closet full of clothes.”
He cups my breasts, and his mouth descends. He sucks hard, flicking and teasing my nipples with his tongue. I let out a low moan and tangle my fingers in his thick hair.
“Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of this—getting my mouth on every inch of you.” His fingers return to my pussy while he lavishes my breasts.
His teeth graze my nipples, one and then the other. A jolt of pure pleasure shoots straight to my core, and I whimper and writhe beneath him.
“So fucking gorgeous.” He trails kisses lower, down my stomach and across my stretch marks. He nips at my soft hips. “Every part of you.”
I flush, feeling exposed and vulnerable, until his mouth engulfs my pussy, hot and wet, and—oh my God—I didn’t think it could get any better.
He goes from gentle to rough again, always keeping me on edge.
He sucks and licks and thrusts his fingers in and out of me.
I can only pray his bedroom is soundproof, because I can’t stay quiet.
He works magic between my thighs as he fumbles with his jeans. Down to only his boxers, he grips the backs of my knees and pins them to the bed, spreading me wide. He sucks my clit between his lips, and the air catches in my lungs. I’m weightless, flying high on ecstasy.
“Come for me, baby.” Lick. Suck. Lick. “Soak my face.”
His tongue plunges into me, and his beard rasps my sensitive skin. I clutch the sheets and throw my head back. My inner walls clench around him, but it’s not enough. I need harder—deeper.
“I want you,” I gasp between ragged breaths. “Inside me.”
“Fuck, Harper.” He licks a slow, torturous path from hole to clit. “We can’t.”
“Why?” I whine, embarrassingly needy.
“I don’t have a condom.” He raises his head, my arousal glistening on his lips. His eyes are solid black, his pupils lost in the obsidian. “Unless…” His heated gaze turns hungry. “I’m clean.”
This man is thorough. He included a copy of his records in the contract.
“Me, too.” Once I suspected Daniel was cheating, I got tested.
“Are you on birth control?”
Fuck.
“No…” The word hangs heavy in the air between us. I hadn’t been interested in sex for so long, I was convinced my desire had shriveled up and died. Birth control was pointless—and would have caused an unnecessary argument if found.
The corner of Rocco’s lip twitches. “Good. I have no problem fucking a baby into you, kitten, but not tonight. There’s no way in hell I’m sending you away for months with my child possibly growing inside you.”
What? Where did that come from? A baby? His baby?
“Wait.” I push up onto my elbows. “You’d want a baby together? With me?"
He plants his palms flat on the mattress, cocks his head, and licks his lips. “Why is that shocking? Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you barely know me.”
“I built a lucrative career by reading people—I’m very perceptive.”
“I—I have—” Postpartum depression that never went away, and a difficult child who his own father has no patience for.
But Rocco does, and so does the rest of the family, and since coming to New York, I have hope.
Hope—the emotion that always precedes a bout of deep depression.
Anxiety and doubt thrum in my chest. I can’t rely on hope; it has failed me too many times.
Rocco bends down and kisses my inner thigh. “I’ll take care of you. Aren’t things getting better already?”
“They are, but…” This can’t be real. We can’t be having this conversation. This might not last, and I’m not about to be trapped again—with two kids to somehow provide for.
I sit up and scoot toward the headboard. He stands, snatches me by the ankles, and yanks me back to the end of the bed—then slaps my ass. My already tender skin catches fire, and my clit throbs.
"You bastard," I grit through my teeth.
“New rule. Don’t run from me, kitten.” His chest rises and falls, and a pronounced bulge strains his boxer briefs. “Tell me how much you need to let me breed your tight little cunt, and I’ll have it to you within the hour.”
My face scorches, but not nearly as much as my stinging bottom. “I’m not for sale.”
“No, but your sense of security is. Think about it—you’ll have your own apartment, your own income.
How much do you need to feel secure enough to have a child with me?
Any amount.” He holds my gaze, unwavering.
“I want you. Everything. Try me.” He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. “Give me a number.”
He’s manipulating me with his rough palm, broad shoulders, defined chest, self-assurance, and big dick. The thought of it—of him—stretching me, filling me, coming deep inside me…wanting me enough to have a child together…
I’ve lost my damn mind, driven mad by lust. So has he.
“You’re insane.”
He arches a brow. “Am I? We’d make beautiful babies. You’d want for nothing. You and Danny—our kids. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise.”
The air feels charged—dangerous. More than anything, I want a life free of constant worry. To be cared for, to stop walking on eggshells. That’s all I wish for.
The risk of surrendering to him is high, but it pales in comparison to the survival mode I’ve been living in, the struggle to keep going, the abuse I’ve endured for years.
And, for the first time, I’m being given a choice, a choice to dictate my future.
So I throw out a number. “Three million.” It sounds low, but to me, it’s a ridiculous amount, more than enough to relocate if needed.
His brows knit, and his lips press into a thin line. “Higher. Come on, you’re worth far more. I’ve spent that on your security and divorce alone.”
“Five,” I breathe out. That kind of money is unimaginable. Life-changing. I’d be set for life.
“Ten—five now, and five when you have my child.” He doesn’t wait for my definitive answer. He drops his boxers.
His cock juts upward, impossibly hard, veins bulging beneath the taut skin of his thick shaft, and I bite my bottom lip. I can’t tear my gaze away.
He fists his length and strokes from base to tip. “You do realize, Harper, you can never leave me, right? I’d never allow it. Nor would I ever give you reason to.”
My mouth goes dry—not at his statement; that’s no surprise. I was aware of his possessiveness, and it doesn’t scare me. If anything, I foolishly find it attractive. After being ignored and mistreated, toxic, ‘you’re mine’ masculinity begins to look appealing.
And it’s not the money. Ten million is unfathomable. I wouldn’t even know what to do with it, except to save it for an emergency and spoil my son.
It’s Rocco. My body’s reaction is all for him. His well-maintained physique. His unwavering confidence. His impressive dick.
He places a knee on the mattress and strokes his cock lazily, giving me a show. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and my hips shift of their own accord.
Am I actually considering this? Allowing him to fuck me with no protection?
I’m not getting any younger. Neither is he. A negotiated agreement seems less reckless than waiting for—and depending on—love. Not that I couldn’t love Rocco. What’s not to love, aside from his highly skilled ability to get his way?
He comes down over me, his muscled forearms braced beside my head, caging me beneath his powerful body. His erection presses against my swollen clit. “What do you say?” His voice drops to a low, throaty rumble. “You wanna have my baby? Let me fill that pretty pussy?”
A thrill courses through me, and I shudder. “What about Charleston? And traveling?”
“I’ve re-examined my position.”
“Worried I’ll change my mind?” I tease.
“No.” He smirks. “Consider it a guarantee of return—a claim staked.”
“You’re devious.”
“Determined,” he counters.
I wrap my legs around his waist. “No cheating.”
He grasps my chin and caresses my bottom lip with his thumb. “Exclusivity is non-negotiable. It’s in the contract.” He rocks his hips, and the underside of his cock glides over my slick, needy pussy. “Your own account. Five million transferred tonight. Color?”
I swallow hard. “Green.”