“Shouldn’t I marry the father of the child?” I ask, desperately wanting someone to give me a definitive answer on how adulting is supposed to work when you’re the Lotus Queen. I realize I am writing the book on that now. I’m the first. “Shouldn’t I do the honorable thing?”
“The honorable thing would be marrying your captor.” His sinister grin is too cute for me to contain my excitement. I may scream and come simultaneously.
Unable to get away, I plunge into the bubbly water just to get away from his sexy mug. Holding out, I blow a few bubbles and shoot my left hand out of the water. I feel his fingers slip the ring on mine. I break through the surface and cheer, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! I will marry you!”
He mischievously smirks and dips down to kiss me. “We’re going to New Orleans in a few days, but we’re stopping in Texas on our way down.”
“Okay, why?”
“We’re going to see Lani for paternity tests, and then we’re going to get married.”
I blink panicking. “… Tomorrow?”
“Well, no…in like a week on June 22.”
“Does anyone know?”
“Deacon, Dom, Megan, and Hannah,” he says. “All your motherfucking blue blocks know.”
I cannot say anything else because the phenomenal, blinding piece on my finger renders me speechless. He unbuttons his jeans and rips the zipper open, but leaves them up. I catch sight of his hard cock. “Can I…get in…with you?”
“You can get in anytime, baby boy. Just call me your sheath.” I gleam, finally getting it. I understand how much better I can be with Sal by my side. “There are two of us in here.”
“More the merrier!” He winks, and I laugh as he steps into the water. I try to give him space, but he slides my ass back to his cock. I gasp. He kisses my shoulder, and I lift my hand from the water. “Do you love it?”
“I love you,” I giddily squeal, smiling. “The rock is alright too.”
He lightly nips my shoulder, and I giggle. “I designed it and had it made. I’ve had it since we were in New York.”
I flip back through the memories, feeling the dense fog in my brain. “… In January?”
“Ya,” he replies. “I was going to ask you when we got to New Orleans, but everything went to shit.”
“I’m going to be Mrs. Salvatore Raniero?”
“You are going to be Mrs. Badass Mofo, but I don’t think you need me to do that.”
Laying against his chest, I glance up and stroke his goatee. “What do you mean?”
“You’re pretty badass without me, Iris.”
“I would rather be badass with you,” I whisper, spinning around. “I’m a bit impulsive.”
“You’re young,” he gently says. “You weren’t raised on the board. You were raised as a spectator on the sidelines and allowed to enter and exit the board. It matters. I can get you where you need to be if you trust me.”
“I trust you,” I say as he softly kisses my lips. “Have you ever fucked a pregnant girl?”
His brows arch up high in the middle of his forehead. I see his wheels spinning. He is thinking about it. “I can’t say as though I ever have.”
“Would you like to?”
“I would very much like my dick inside of you.”
“And what if…”
“We aren’t what if’ing anything, sweetheart,” he coaxes, running the back of his finger along the side of my breast. “We’re only loving.”
Underneath his weight, I bite my lip and stare up at the mirrored ceiling in the bedroom later that night. I am getting increasingly turned on just watching him fuck me.
He nips at my lip and blocks my view with a devious grin. “You’re so gawking.”
“I am,” I readily admit, eyeing every chisel and cord in the fabric of his flesh. I lean my head off to the side, but he follows me and sticks his tongue out. I love how playful he is becoming with me. He’s making loving fun, and I laugh so hard I twinkle. His game is life. “We should have these in every bedroom we sleep in.”
“This is an easy request,” he taunts, arching up and thrusting as his back and butt muscles tighten. I snap my teeth on my lip. “I can make this happen. Are you sure you don’t want to ask for something harder?”
With a blush rising on my cheeks, I whisper, “I have a rock on my finger and your cock inside of me. I don’t need anything harder.”
My fingers smooth over his back with the lightest etch of my nails. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. Everything they say about pregnant girls glowing is true.”
“I’ve never been happier, Salvatore.”
“I’m going to do my damndest to keep you that way,” he promises, kissing my neck and offering the best view yet. “Harder…”
Blinking, I mutter, “What?”
“Scratch, harder.”
“God, you just made my clit throb,” I confide, digging my nails over his backside. “Does the brand hurt?”
“No,” he dreamily moans with a look of ecstasy on his face. “I haven’t been grounded since the church.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “I figured you and Deacon…”
“No, baby,” he groans, slowly moving deep within me. “No one.”
“Are you okay? Is Deacon okay?”
“We’re fine…good…we’re good,” he assures with a smile. “I need you, Iris.”
“I’m going to miss you,” I say as he suddenly stops and gives me a harsh stare. “No, no…I know we aren’t going to be having much kink while I am pregnant.”
“Don’t fucking scare me like that again!”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, feigning a frown. “I know…say the whole sentence.”
“Ya.” He smirks. “It’s okay. We’re getting there, just don’t leave me.”
“I said, yes!” I remark, smiling. “I’m not giving you the ring back.”
“I don’t fucking care.” He snorts, shaking his head. “The ring. The car. The house. None of it matters if I can’t have you.”
The decadent dance of his hips fills me with pure joy. “Do you want a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t care,” he whispers, taking my nipple in his mouth. His gentle ways send my mind and body over the moon. I miss the rough, but I know he won’t risk it. I am preaching to the choir, falling on deaf ears, and barking up the wrong damn tree. “What about you?”
“Healthy, whole.” The hurt is unavoidable. He watched me go through a miscarriage when we first met. “I don’t want to lose another one.”
“You’re not going to lose this baby,” he maintains, cradling my breast in his hand. “These are going to be amazingly bountiful soon.” He wiggles his brows.
“… Bountiful?”
“Massive fuckin’ tits, babe.”
“And you are excited about this?”
“Hell to the fuck ya,” he boasts, tenderly rubbing the pad of his finger on my nipple. “Can I buy you lots of lingerie and take thousands of pictures?”
“Are you going to put the photos all over the house?”
“No.” He shakes his head like the idea is heresy. “They will be in my private collection.”
“You have a private collection?”
“Uh-huh,” he replies, grinning. “Very private.”
“Not even Deacon?”
“Nup,” he says, kissing my belly. “A boy has to have some secrets. I have videos too.”
With wide eyes, I ask, “Of what?”
“Nothing risqué,” he volunteers, rolling his flames into my waters. “More like just moments of you smiling or laughing.”
“We should change that.”
“What?”
I grab his phone from the nightstand. “Passcode?”
“789190”
I peer up to his glistening eyes. He looks at me like he adores me. “My birthday backward?”
“Ya.”
Thumbing through his phone, I say, “You know, this is not the safest passcode ever?”
“I break phones,” h
e mutters with a shrug. “I don’t ever lose them.”
“Are you bothered by this?”
“Nup,” he says, swirling his fingers over my breasts. “Get on my phone. Read my email. Read my messages. Look at my pictures. I have nothing to hide. I started cleaning it when I was with Emily, and I finished it in Japan.”
“… You’re serious?”
“Ya,” he honestly replies. “Now, if you go far back enough in like Jaid’s or Charlotte’s messages, you may find some sex chat. And there is a whole folder of Cruz looking hot as sin.”
I giggle and hit record. “Smile for me.”
“You’re going to take a video of us making love?”
“Mostly just of that back,” I flirt with a grin. “You can look in my stuff too.”
“There is only one who concerns me.”
“I know who…”
“I’m gonna go limp quick if you say his name.”
“Baby, no!” I beg.
He smirks. “I was teasing. I’m still on thoughts of smothering my face in your ginormous boobs.”
I giggle. “You know I’m scared.”
“I know,” he whispers, kissing my lips and lifting on his knees. He offers his hands, and I take them as he raises me onto his lap and leans me back in his hands. “Come here, Angel.”
“I cannot wait to do this when there is a basketball ball between us.”
“Iris,” he mutters.
“It’s going to be so weird to have this thang between us.”
Grinning, he snickers, “Iris…”
“Mhmm?” He points up to the mirrors and the reflection of his hard cock moving in and out of me. “Holy fuck me…” His laughter fills the room. “Can you come in this position?”
I hush, watching as he pulls out and dips back in. “You’re so fucking amazing.”
“I am in love with you, Sally…”
He snarls as my fingertips run over his guns. “And I am so madly fucking crazy in love with you, Darlin’.”
102
c l o a k e d
His Butterfly
“We’ll have the results back from the tests soon,” Lani says at her office in Sugargrove. Her office is closed today, and we’re alone with no other staff. It’s nice. We arrived in town about an hour ago, dropped Rowan off at Dom’s, and headed to the doctor.
“We’re leaving for Europe in a week,” I say as she takes blood and the swab from Deacon. The boys are getting physicals plus paternity tests.
“I’ll make sure you have a list of doctors that Sibyl has used before,” she says. “There are some outstanding obstetricians there. You’ll be in France?”
“I will,” I acknowledge. “With a full staff and family.”
“If anything happens,” Deacon informs as I smile, and Sal rubs my shoulder. “I will be there.”
With a grin, I politely ask, “Can the boys see the baby?”
“Of course!” she says as I lay back. “I am mostly concerned with her anemia.”
Sal asks, “Is the previous miscarriage a concern?”
“Every pregnancy is different,” she replies. “And considering she is almost fourteen weeks, she’s in a good place.”
“Holy crap!” Sal mutters as she runs the wand over my belly.
She bumps his shoulder. “And that right there is the…”
“Heartbeat,” Deacon whispers. “We’re having a fucking baby!”
“Ya, we are!” Sal boasts, gazing at him. “When can we know the sex?”
Printing a few screenshots of the baby, she says, “A few more weeks.”
After putting his shirt on, Deacon questions, “And travel is okay?”
Despite all their questions, the boys are so…nurturing.
“Yeah, just make sure she eats, drinks, and gets plenty of rest,” she says. “If she stays healthy and the baby stays stable, travel won’t be an issue until the last month, and even then, she can. The main thing is to listen to the mother.”
I grin. That’s me. I am the mother.
“Okay, Sally boy,” Lani charms. “Let’s do this.”
She takes his temperature and does his blood pressure as Deacon helps me dress. Her brow furrows. “Shit…”
“What?”
“Are you stressed?” she asks.
Sal lifts a brow and chuckles, “When aren’t I?”
“We’re going to check that again in a minute.”
With concern, Deacon asks, “How bad is it?”
“159/94.”
Deacon says, “Damn, boy!”
Looking in his mouth and nose, Lani mutters, “Are you clean?”
“I took a shower,” Sal replies with a grin. “Are you?”
Unamused, she shakes her head. “What are you taking?”
“He’s on a mood stabilizer, an antidepressant, and anti-anxiety,” I volunteer. “But he’s coming off them in a week.”
“And will the coke be compensating for those?”
“Only on Tuesdays,” he teases.
Lani shakes her head. “You need to get off that shit before you kill yourself.”
“I know I cannot stand the antidepressant…”
She wraps the cuff around him again. “You are a toxic wasteland, child.”
“Blame CAE.”
“I do!” she hollers as I blink at Deacon, wondering if he knew. “I should give you something but the odds of you taking it…”
“Slim.” Sal grins.
“You have a baby coming,” she scolds. “You need to stop.”
“He’s not as bad as he was,” Deacon surprisingly defends as I head for the door.
Sal yells, “Iris…”
“I’m sorry,” Lani excuses as I walk out. “I didn’t know she was unaware.”
“It’s okay,” Sal mutters.
“No!” I yell. “It’s not okay. Not anymore!”
“I’ll go!” Deacon insists, chasing after me as I open the main office door. He grabs my elbow and pulls me back. “Babe…”
“Don’t babe me!” I howl. “In less than five days, I am marrying an addict. I am a scared single mother who is a bit off her damn rocker with hormone fluctuations. Don’t fucking babe me!”
“He is always going to be an addict.”
I lick my lips, trying to stay calm. “He had a flare…there, is that better terminology for you?”
“Yes,” Sal says from the doorway with the bandage on his arm. “I fucked up. I fell down the day we got to Colorado. I missed the fucking step and went boom.”
“With how many lines of coke…”
“Is that relevant?” he angrily yells. “Because I haven’t done it since then.”
“Oh, great,” I sarcastically say. “So, you’ve been clean what three or four days?”
“It starts with day fucking one. And maybe you would understand that if you would start asking about why instead of pointing your goddamned finger in anger!”
“Boston,” Deacon warns as his nostrils expand. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”
“I guess I do,” Sal meekly replies, shaking his head. “She wants an answer.”
“No, you don’t,” Deacon contends. “Iris does not need this now. And neither do you. Now is not the time or place for this discussion. Accept it. Let’s go eat.”
“… What?” I blast infuriated. “How can you say that?”
“Baby girl, befuckinghave,” Deacon calmly says. “Both of you breathe. Deep breaths!”
From the doorway, Lani surfaces and hands a prescription and some samples to Deacon. “Get him to try these when he tapers from everything else. They’re new.”
She shakes his hand and mine and hugs Sal. “Be careful with yourself. You aren’t invincible. And neither are the chambers in the cage.”
Looking like a lost little boy, he nods as my heart fucking breaks when he glances with remorse and guilt at me. Dropping my purse, I run and leap into his arms in tears.
His hands grip my bottom as I plant tiny kisses all ove
r his face. “Isolated incident?”
“Jorgé.”
“Say no more,” I whisper, believing him. “I got it. I understand it. It’s cake.”
Sal laughs. “It’s so much cake.”
And we start forming a new code.
“You know,” Deacon quips as Sal pivots so that I can see him. His fingers pull his scruff. “The next time one of you craves your version of cake, you could just have some cake.” He thrusts his hips, and we both laugh. “You’d be much happier.”
“Dick happy!” I cheer.
Sal challenges, “Inside thought.”
“Both of you,” Deacon rallies, pointing. “Say the whole sentence.”
The Master
Sitting outside the Lamb’s House restaurant, I realize how much I am going to miss this quaint little town. We’ll only be gone for six months. So many things in life are temporary, but the two submissives sitting across from me are not. They’re laughing and playing and enjoying one another. They make me so happy.
“Who is naming this child?”
They blankly stare at me.
“You are,” Deacon mutters. “You’re the wordy one.”
“… Me?”
“Yes,” Iris nods. “Just don’t name him Sal Junior, or we’ll be forced to tag team you.”
I cock up a brow. “Let’s go home and do that.”
Iris seductively suggests, “Are you requesting cake, Sir?”
“I am,” I reply, cracking my knuckles. “Deacon, you want to fuck a pregnant girl?”
“Yeah, I do,” he confides nodding. “I’m looking forward to the…” He bites his lip, puts his hands in front of his chest, and lifts his brows a few times. “Tatas.”
“Ditto, my man, ditto!” We give one another a high five.
“My breasts are for nourishing the infant, not your entertainment, boys.”
We cut up and laugh.
And it’s so fucking delicious.
His Ride
We pull up to the Swamp Shack. “Why the fuck is my fucking car in the drive? I swear I’m going to kill her,” Sal hisses, running for the door as Megan steps out. “Who drove my baby?”
Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4) Page 88
