by Brook Wilder
It takes only a few seconds for him to tug my dress off the rest of the way, revealing the black thong underneath. His favorite. His hazel eyes darken, and then he’s kneeling before me. The moment his beard rubs against my sensitive inner thigh, I gasp. His tongue tentatively flicks against my wet lips, then he kisses down my thigh to my knee. His hands glide easily up my legs and the anger we had for each other earlier falls away like it always does. All that’s left is Danya and me and the pure, raw love we have for each other.
I grow lost in his touches, letting out a moan as his fingers spread me wide, but he doesn’t penetrate my depths. I grunt, annoyed, as he does it again and again, teasing me until I can’t stand it. The need for release begins to consume me and my own hand reaches down to do what his hasn’t, blinded by the lust he brings out of me. I wait for him to shove it away, but when I glance down, I find his gaze fixed on me fingering myself. His hands massage my thighs as I thrust my fingers in and out. I’m just as mesmerized by his reaction as he is by my movements. I’ll have to remember how much this seems to turn him on. He kisses his way up to my hip, nibbling and sucking as he goes. When his mouth closes around a nipple, my fingers thrust harder. Feeling his cock pressing against me only turns me on more, knowing soon enough he’s going to fill me to the brim.
A gasp slips from my lips as I near the edge. Then he shoves my hand aside, falls back to his knees, and his tongue replaces my fingers. He thrusts the thick muscle in deep as he rubs the bundle of nerves until my toes curl. My hips buck, but he holds me against his mouth, not about to let me pull away.
His tongue disappears and his fingers take its place, spreading my wetness further down. His fingers fill me in more ways than one a second later and I cry out at the sensation. I sit up, wanting him as his fingers drive me mad. His beard and lips taste of me, and I drag him as close as I can. When the bubble of pleasure bursts, he swallows down my moans as I shudder in his arms. His fingers pull out too soon and I slump against his shoulder, pleading for him. He kicks out of his shoes and his slacks hit the floor. Like a predator closing in on his prey, he drags me to the very edge of the desk and presses his length against my waiting sex. I shiver from the intensity of his gaze.
“You are mine to protect and love,” he says, voice rough. “I will never let them hurt you. You are my family, Stella. No one else matters.”
“Danya,” I whisper, but then he spreads me wide, taking his time filling me inch by delicious inch. I gasp once he’s seated deep inside me, unable to go further. As one hand holds my hip, his other finds my clit and massages it slowly, in time with his thrusts.
My head falls back as the pleasure begins to build again, twisting like a spring waiting to explode. I cum hard and fast, crying out as he buries himself to the hilt. He’s hard as ever within me, though, and while I’m still reeling from the orgasm, he lifts me off the desk, spins me around, and pins me to it. He spreads my legs and his cock slips between my thighs, more than ready to keep going. I’m not sure if I can take much more, but Danya needs me tonight. I saw that glint of desperation in his eyes right before he spun me around. He’s so close to the edge, to losing himself in the midst of this madness.
I reach around and grip his hip as I whisper, “I’m yours, Danya. I’ll always be yours.”
He grunts, and his cock spanks my sex. I jump at the sudden burst of heat that rushes through me at the action. He does it again, and I suck in a harsh breath. I grow anxious for him all over again. When he does it a third time, I whisper his name, begging for him to take me. His hand twists into my hair, pulling my head back just enough to keep me trapped between him and the desk without any chance of moving.
This time when he feels me, it’s hard and fast. I gasp at the speed he fucks me, my eyes rolling back at the insane amount of desire tearing through me. He loosens his grip on my hair and when his fingers find my ass, I flatten my palms to the desk and grind back against him wanting more. That seems to set him off, and then he’s cursing as he bucks his hips even faster. I collapse to the desk with a cry that echoes around the study, quickly joined by his bellow of release. His body covers mine and we shake together, his shaft twitching inside my sheath, filling me with his seed.
A seed, a voice tells me, that has already taken root.
He kisses my shoulders then my neck. I turn my head just enough for him to brush his lips against mine. “Think we need a shower and some sleep before tomorrow.”
He slips free, and I immediately want him back. He holds out his hand for mine, neither of us caring about the mess of clothes on the floor. I hesitate to take his hand but finally do. “Danya?” I say when we reach the door. I should tell him. I should let him know, but at the same time, I fear if he finds out I’m pregnant, our baby will become a means to an end. It won’t be just our child. It’ll become part of the game.
“What is it?”
I bite my lip then smile softly. I stand on my toes and kiss him thoroughly. “I love you.”
He lifts me off my feet and into his arms, making for the stairs. “And I love you.”
Chapter 5
Stella
I roll over, reaching for Danya, but the bed’s empty. I sit up to find a note resting on the nightstand beside the clock. It’s only half-past six, but he’s already set out to see to final preparations for Mikhail’s burial. I can’t decide if that’s a lie and he’s taking care of other business he doesn’t wish me to know about. Business pertaining to tracking down the traitors within the ranks.
I flop back to the pillows, ready to sleep for a few more hours, when my stomach churns. I bolt upright and just make it to the bathroom to hug the toilet. When I’m finished losing what little bit is left in my stomach, I snag my robe off the bathroom door and splash cold water on my face. It has to be something I ate yesterday, or maybe the flu. As the water runs down my face, my gaze wanders down to my stomach.
“Please be wrong,” I whisper to myself, clutching the robe at my waist. “Please, not now. This can’t happen now.”
I have a few pregnancy tests with my things in the other bedroom. I’d mostly forgotten about them. I never actually had to use one, but always kept one on hand just in case one of my one-night stands caused me any worries. I wouldn’t dream of doing this if Danya was home, but thankfully he’s gone.
Fighting against the urge to be sick again, I leave the master bedroom and return to the one that I use mostly for the closet space now. Paranoid about being caught, I lock the bedroom door then search through the bag of toiletries that I left in the bathroom here. I find several pregnancy tests and proceed to pee on the first one.
I forget to grab my cell to set a timer, but by the time I return to the bathroom and glance at the test, my heart plummets and I sink to the floor in shock.
It’s positive. The damn test is positive. I snatch it off the counter and wait the allotted time, praying it’ll change. It doesn’t. The word stares back at me accusingly.
“Might be false,” I tell myself as I rush to open a second test. “It’s false, it has to be.”
As the minutes tick by with me in the bathroom chugging water so I can keep taking tests until I run out, the realization sinks in that I am pregnant with Danya’s child. All four tests show the same result. That strange fluttering I had last night returns and I hold my stomach, shaking my head. How did this happen? I was so careful, wasn’t I? Hands shaking, and torn between joy and terror at what this means for our futures, I stumble from the bedroom back to the master suite. My birth control is in the medicine cabinet. I took one yesterday, right? And the day before? But the second I open the case, it falls from my numb hand, the sound of hard plastic hitting tile sounding more like a thunderous boom.
“Shit … shit! Are you kidding me?”
I missed almost an entire two weeks. Where the hell has my mind been this whole time? I swear I remember taking it, but apparently not. I let myself be caught up in everything else happening and forgot to pay attention to what I needed
to keep myself safe.
I tuck the pills out of sight, knowing there’s no point in taking them now. I can’t let Danya see, though, not until I have a plan. I don’t even know what that plan might be. A child. Danya and I said no child. But then that damn will was read and the game changed again. To know the baby growing inside me is Danya’s should elate me, but all it does is make me fearful for its future. It won’t just be our baby. He will become a pawn to be used. I want to believe with everything I am that Danya would never put our child at risk, but sometimes I see Mikhail lingering in his eyes. That man pitted his children against each other from the beginning. How can I know for certain Danya won’t wind up doing the same? Using our baby to legitimize his position over a family of criminals.
Of killers.
Another wave of nausea hits and I bend over the toilet, dry-heaving as tears stream down my cheeks. What the hell am I going to do? I’ll have to go to a doctor to find out for certain, but if I go on my own, Lukas or someone else will follow me. No way I’m telling Danya yet.
I sit on the cold tile floor, staring at the far wall, seeing my life spiraling out of control all over again. I’m not sure how much time passes when the ringing of my cell jars me back to reality. I fumble for it in my robe pocket, answering without looking to see who it is.
“Yeah?”
“Stella? What’s wrong?” Danya asks immediately.
I quickly wipe at the tears on my face even though he can’t see them. “Nothing, I’m fine. Just uh, just haven’t had my coffee yet.”
“You sure you’re all right? You sound upset.”
Damn the man for knowing me my entire life. “Promise, I’m fine. How’s everything there?”
“Going according to plan. Lukas is going to bring you in about an hour.” He hesitates then asks more quietly, “Are you sure you’re fine?”
If I tell him I’m sick and can’t go to the funeral, he’ll worry about me the rest of the day. That and he’s a smart man. It won’t take him long to put the pieces together. I take a deep breath then smile, hoping he’ll hear it through the phone.
“Yeah, I’m good. How could I not be after a night like we had?”
His warm laugh catches me off guard. “Feels like I haven’t been around you in ages.”
“I feel the same.”
“We’ll get through this, Stella,” he assures me. “We will, one way or another.”
My hand shakes as I wipe away the fresh tears burning in my eyes. “I know. I’ll see you soon.” I hang up just as another bout of sickness hits me. How am I supposed to get through a damn funeral when I can barely make it ten minutes without puking? “You will because your life depends on it,” I sternly tell myself as I weakly haul my ass off the floor. “You, your husband, and your baby’s lives all depend on it. You are strong.”
I know Danya wants me to be the submissive wife who keeps her head down and doesn’t stir up trouble in public, but I just can’t do that. I simply won’t speak to anyone today and will try to get out of there as soon as I can. I get dressed and fix my hair in record time then ensure I take out the trash in my bathroom. I discard the bag in the dumpster just as Lukas steps out of the SUV.
“Ready to go?” he asks, opening the back door for me.
“Yes, let’s get this over with.” I think I catch a smirk, but don’t comment on it. Lukas might say I drive him nuts most days, but I like to think we have an understanding. “A few hours,” I whisper to myself as we pull away from the mansion. “You just have to last a few hours.”
But those few hours drag on. By the time Mikhail’s casket is being lowered into the ground, I’m squeezing Danya’s hand so hard he keeps giving me funny looks. I mumble an apology and loosen my grip. I’m supposed to be here supporting him, but all I keep thinking about is the unborn baby growing in my womb and the possible danger we’re about to be in because of it.
When the funeral finally comes to an end, I pull away from Danya, telling him quietly I’ll go wait by the SUV. His furrowed brow says I’m going to be getting interrogated later. I’ll have to play off my weird behavior somehow. While I’m trying to come up with a believable story, something about missing my own mother and whatever other sentimental bullshit I can come up with, someone whistles. A few other attendees glance around but keep on walking toward their cars. When the whistle comes again, closer, I turn slowly around … and lock eyes with Jack Bennet.
He’s leaning against a marble tombstone ten yards away. My heart races as he tips his fedora to me, shoves his hands in his pockets, and walks away. I wrap my arms around my middle as if that’s enough to keep my baby safe. His promise of safety for Danya and me replays in my mind. What if he’s telling the truth? What if trusting Jack Bennet, a man notorious for being ruthless against those he brings down, is my only ticket to getting out of his life for good?
But what if I trust him and, in the end, he brings down Danya instead or gets him killed? I nearly vomit right there in the graveyard but manage to compose myself. Danya swore he’d stop anything from happening to me. Silently I do the same, telling myself bringing down the families might be our only choice after all. Can I take Danya’s hate if I go that route? Can I deal with his loathing or his regret of ever falling in love with me if it destroys his father’s empire?
I shut my eyes briefly and a sickening image of Danya holding a bloody bundle of tiny blankets makes me reel. I stumble into the nearest headstone to catch myself, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. No one has except for Danya, it seems. He’s staring right at me, studying me. I can only stare right back and know with my full heart and soul that I will do whatever it takes to protect my family.
Chapter 6
Danya
It’s still dark in the bedroom when I wake up. I rub my eyes, not sure what jarred me from my sleep, when a pained whimper comes from beside me. I roll over to find Stella, her arms jerking in her sleep, and her face scrunched as if something’s hurting her.
“Stella,” I whisper and shake her shoulder gently. “Wake up, doll.”
But she doesn’t. Her arm lashes out for me and then she lets out a scream. I grab her shoulders harder and pull her upright into my arms. She’s shaking and her body’s drenched in sweat. She keeps twitching in my arms like she’s trying to break free, then she stops.
“Danya?”
“Right here, I’m right here,” I whisper soothingly. “It was just a dream.”
She shudders and wraps her arms around me. “Nightmare,” she corrects softly.
I pull away just long enough to turn on the bedside lamp. When I turn back, though, the sight of Stella’s fear-filled eyes and her pale skin make me frown with worry. Since Mikhail’s funeral, she’s been acting odd. She’s hardly eating, and more than once, I’ve heard her in the bathroom being sick. She told me it was just a stomach bug, but it seems to be hanging on too long. I place my palm to her forehead to check for a fever, but she shoves it away.
“Just a nightmare. I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” She slips from my arms and lies down.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to wake you up,” I tell her, not about to let this go.
“Sorry I’m causing you added stress,” she mumbles.
I breathe out heavily through my nose in aggravation and roll her back to face me. “Talk to me, please. What are you having nightmares about?”
Those dark green eyes turn icy as she scoots away from me and says, “Just nightmares.”
“Why won’t you just talk to me?”
“I could say the same to you.”
I start to argue then stop myself. It’s too early for this conversation and she’s right. After our fight the day of the viewing, I told myself I would try to keep her in the loop a bit more and prove once again I’m nothing like the other men in her life who are only out to use her and control her. But then she started acting strange, sickly, and I couldn’t bring myself to add any more stress to her sudden fragileness.
“I will te
ll you something when I have it,” I say, and she scoffs. “There’s been no news yet.”
“It’s fine. I’m over it. Go back to sleep.”
“Clearly, you’re not.” I drag her up and into my lap. I pull her legs over and around, so she’s straddling me, and hold her close. She attempts to get away, but even the strength in her has lessened. “I’m not letting you go back to sleep until you tell me. What’s your nightmare about?”
“Stubborn-ass man.”
“Stubborn-ass wife,” I shoot back, and her lips twitch. “Talk to me.”
