Chapter 38
Peighton
Masculine warmth surrounds me before I’m fully awake. A heavy arm lies draped over my waist, pulling my back against a firm chest. A slow, steady breath brushes the back of my neck.
Gustav.
Asleep. Peaceful. His body curved around mine like a shield.
I’m being selfish by not pushing him to go home and be present to lead the bratva as he should.
Don’t care, though. I’m addicted to this. To him.
A smile blooms across my face. I let myself savor it. The weight of him. The way his thighs bracket mine. The quiet strength in his arm. And then I feel him pressed to my back, hardened in sleep.
My cheeks flush.
I ease my pajama bottoms down, slow and quiet. The fabric slips to my knees.
When I reach back and wrap my hand around his length, he twitches, asleep but already reacting. He’s so warm in my palm. So heavy it makes my pulse trip.
I guide him to my entrance, breath catching when the blunt head slides between my lips. The first inch makes me inhale. The stretch pulls a helpless moan from my throat. His fingers flex at my hip, still in the fog of sleep but gripping like his body recognizes me before his mind does.
His voice is a rough growl against my shoulder. “Such a greedy little wife. Want my cock already, hm?”
“Only yours,” I whisper.
His hips turn forward. Slow. Deep. Possessive. The push steals my breath. My lips part on a whimper I can’t contain.
He wakes fully as he sinks all the way in, his hand tightening around my hip, holding me snug against him. He’s so deep it aches in a way that makes my walls throb against his shaft.
Gustav buries his face in my neck and hair, inhaling like he needs my scent to breathe. “How did I get so lucky?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “The perfect girl.”
His praise makes my thighs tremble.
I move first, putting on a show for him by rocking back on his shaft in lazy strokes that drag slow pleasure through my body. He looks down, watching where our bodies are joined.
Each roll of my hips pushes a needy sound out of me. I glance over my shoulder, catching his mouth part as he watches my body move on and off his length.
My fingers clutch the sheet when his hand slides from my hips to my stomach, holding me still just before he takes control and grinds deeper.
Each of his thrusts is unhurried but passionate, meant to remind me that neither of us wants it to end.
His lips trace the back of my shoulder, warm and rough. “You wake me like this every morning,” he murmurs, “and I will keep you pregnant forever.”
The words shouldn’t turn me molten, but the way he says them makes my breath shake.
When I tighten around him, he chuckles softly, the sound wicked. “Little wife likes that. Wants me to cum in her.”
He thrusts harder, a slow grind that hits deeper. My back arches, helpless against the wave of pleasure rising too fast. His hand slips lower, between my thighs, two fingers circling my swollen clit in tight, focused strokes that send sparks down my spine.
“Fuck the bed for me,” he orders quietly, removing his hand. “Rub your pussy on it.”
He turns me flat on my belly. I spread my legs so my clit meets the sheets, and I rock my hips, grinding in shameless strokes.
“That’s it, mishka,” he rasps. He kneels behind me, watching as I pleasure myself. “I love watching your ass flex. Such a little slut for me.”
I glance over my shoulder and groan. Because he’s stroking himself and it’s sexy as hell. Those rippled abs. That V-line. His hard cock fisted in his powerful hand.
I grind harder and my apex takes over. My fingers clutch the sheets hard as I tremble through it.
His hands lightly palms my ass cheeks while the euphoria shatters me, like he’s praising me, making me feel safe while I unravel.
“My turn,” he murmurs.
I gasp as his cock sinks into my still pulsing warmth.
“Get ready, because you’re pussy better suck my cock of every drop. It is time for you to carry our legacy.”
The command shatters something inside me.
My walls clench. Pleasure slams through me again, hard enough that I gasp, clawing at the pillow as he thrusts deep for a while, then holds me there.
His own release follows in a hot, pulsing rush that knocks a long moan from his chest, deep and feral, his fingers tightening on my hip.
I melt back against him, keeping his cock in me, trembling. He breathes hard, braced over me, but already stroking the side of my stomach with a calming possessiveness that makes my heart skip a beat.
He gives one last dig and presses his lips to my ear.
“I feel it. Your little cunt is practically sucking my seed out.”
I bat my lashes, coming to. He’s right. I can feel my hips tilt and walls pulsing, as it my body wants him as deep as possible.
Despite that I do want children, I don’t yet. Not until he’s better, and the threat of the Council is dealt with. I don’t want to raise children alone.
“I want kids too, Gustav, but maybe we should wait until things settle. Maybe then I’ll stop taking birth control,” I say softly, still breathless.
He doesn’t move.
He stays deep inside me. Completely still. The air thickens.
“You’re taking birth control? Why?” he asks quietly.
I laugh softly, assuming the answer is obvious beyond having lighter periods.
“Because. I don’t want to get pregnant yet.”
His hand tightens on my side. There is nothing amused in the way he holds me now. His voice turns cold, absolute.
“Never take it again.”
My pulse jumps. “Uh. Gustav... ever heard of my body, my choice? Or are Russian women deprived of that, too?”
“Peighton. You will bear my children.” No hesitation. No softness. Just a decree.
I freeze, unsure how to respond.
He pulls out, leaving me feeling hollow and nervous.
Inside my mind, my truth lingers with painful clarity: I cannot risk them growing up without a father.
But I cannot tell him that. Not when the madness is still lurking.
So I sit and lift his hand, kiss his knuckles, and give him the answer he wants.
“I love you. I will proudly bear as many children as we make.”
I don’t say the other half, which is I’ll still take birth control until I’m ready.
Thankfully, my spoken words work. A slow, breathtaking smile forms, sincere in a way that steals the air from my lungs. His forehead presses to the back of my hand and his whisper slides warm against my skin.
“Only you calm me this well, devushka.”
We kiss and it aches with tenderness. For a moment, he feels almost whole.
Then—
Ring, ring.
He answers his phone in Russian, voice clipped.
I catch a name and my heart stutters.
Brutus.
I swallow. His gaze snaps to me, sharp and dark as he continues the call. Something cold slithers through my spine.
Keira. The photo. Brutus laughing with me. The timing is too perfect.
He ends the call and stares at the wall, jaw set.
“What was that about?” I ask casually, now standing as I tie on my robe.
“Work,” he murmurs dismissively.
I move closer, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “I just want you to know my heart belongs to you.”
At first, he goes still.
Then his left eye twitches.
I see the shift. The slide into chaos.
“Why would you say that?” His voice is low and sharp enough to cut. “Why do you feel the need to reassure me you’ve done nothing wrong?”
Guilt hits too fast. Brutus laughing. My hand on his arm. Rupert’s words. His business card in my purse. The doubt if I should use it. The birth control lie. They flash through my mind like incriminating snapshots.
He catches the panic in my eyes.
And it’s over. He spirals.
He cages me with his body in one step, slamming my back against the door. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. His hand grips my jaw. His face is inches from mine, fury twisting through every line of him.
“I know you are lying. There is something you’re not telling me.”
I tremble under his rage. His breath shakes with it. His eyes burn with suspicion fed by demons I cannot see.
“Why lie?” he snarls.
Then his eyes squeeze shut, and he growls, but not at me. To someone else.
“No, no, no! She’s mine. It’s not true. You’re the liar. Quiet! I cannot. I won’t do it.”
He is unraveling. Fast.
I lift my hands and cradle his face, pulling his forehead to mine. I whisper his name slowly, gently.
“It’s me, Gustav. Your wife. I am not lying. I won’t ever hurt you.”
His eyes open. His breathing eases.
I stroke his cheek, grounding him the only way I know. “We will be faithful to each other,” I whisper. “We can always trust in each other.”
Damn it. I feel awful lying to him so boldly. I just... I’m in over my head. He’s chaos who could end me in a second.
It takes a long moment, but his body slowly relaxes. His forehead presses harder to mine, as if he needs the contact to stay tethered.
When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “I am sorry.” Then, he kisses my temple. Once. Twice. A third time, as if to apologize for each sharp word that cut me. His mouth drags to my cheek. My jaw. My lips. His hands cup my jaw like I am the only part of the world that is real.
He breathes against my mouth, a confession trembling out of him:
“I’ve never loved anyone, but I am in love with you.”
My chest tightens so sharply it hurts.
Because I believe it.
And it feels like the most dangerous truth of all.
Unfortunately, I’ve spoken words to hide lies since we awakened.
Although it is true, my words feel traitorous as I reply, “I’m in love with you, too, Gustav. You know I am.”