by Sky Corgan
“Let's hope there's a grandbaby in there.” I look down at his hand. “I'm sure they'll give me a pregnancy test while I'm rotting in jail.”
“Maybe we should work on that some more, then.” His eyes darken, and he begins to loosen his tie.
“You're insatiable.” I smirk. “There could be an army at your door at any moment, and you're thinking about sex already.” The outline of his hard cock in his black slacks proves that.
“I've got to make sure you're pregnant before they come.” He makes it sound like it's his duty.
“And what if they catch us?” I pull my legs up onto the bed, leaning forward to stroke him over his pants.
Fynn moans softly as he pulls his tie off, wraps it around my neck, then starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Let them catch us.”
“Then your father will like me even less, seducing his son when he knows that danger is present.” My eyes flash playfully as I work on unbuckling his belt.
“He'll love you once he takes the time to get to know you.”
“Is that so?” I unbutton and unzip his pants, reaching into his boxers to pull out his hot throbbing sex.
“That's soooo,” the word turns into a long string of vowels as I wrap my mouth around him and start sucking. I can't help but giggle around his dick.
Fynn fists his fingers into my hair as I bob on him. The thought of being caught in the act only heightens my arousal. My God, this guy has turned me into a pervert.
He uses his grip on me to pull me up until I'm kneeling on the bed. I pout from the loss of the taste of him, keeping my hand wrapped around his shaft to stroke him. There's a familiar urgency in his eyes that tells me we don't have time for much foreplay. While he was trying to be sexy about it, there's a very real worry that soldiers might come to break us up at any moment. He needs to put a baby inside of me if he hasn't already.
I hike up my dress and pull down my panties, holding them up to him on my index finger. He snatches them away from me and inhales their scent, making me blush.
“That's so dirty,” I mutter.
“What's dirty about it? I love your scent.” He crawls up onto the bed with me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me passionately. It's far better than the wedding kiss. Unrestrained and full of all the love I know he feels for me. “Show me your pussy,” he demands.
I bite my bottom lip, resting back on the bed and pulling my skirt up to my waist, then spreading my thighs for him. When I slip two fingers between my legs and part my folds, he hisses, his hand moving to his cock to stroke himself.
“Oh, you get me so hard.” A wicked smirk plays across his handsome face. “Now up on all fours. I want to take you from behind.”
Heat rushes up my neck from his request, and I take to my knees, arching my back and exposing my ass and pussy to him. He crawls up onto the bed, grabbing his dick and angling it for entry. I groan when his helmet crests my folds, and I feel my legs almost instinctively sink back to take him all in. He curses while pushing forward, filling me to the brim with his cock.
“It's so much,” I whisper against my arm, feeling spread wider than ever before. This position is heavenly.
Fynn places his hands on my ass and starts thrusting. I rock back with him in time, happy to have an ounce of control for once. Up until now, Fynn has done the vast majority of the work. Being able to push back on him and take him into me feels empowering.
“Let me have all of that dick,” I purr as I squeeze my muscles, rotating my hips to feel every inch of him.
“Holy shit.” He tears his hand through his hair, looking so sexy and lost.
Fynn picks up the pace, pounding into me so hard that I can't keep up. The best I can do is curl my fingers into the comforter and moan as I listen to the headboard bang against the wall. I'm not sure which is louder, the furniture or my moaning. There's no doubt that every servant in the house knows what's going on up here.
“Are you ready for me to breed your pretty little pussy?” Fynn asks, never slowing down.
“Yes. Oh yes,” I cry.
I gasp as the friction drives me over the edge, my face resting against the comforter. A huge smile forms on my lips as Fynn slams into me a final time and I feel that familiar euphoric swelling sensation that I love so much. Heat shoots into my womb as his cock expands and spurts into me. I lick my lips, feeling deliciously full of him.
“Mm, your cunt squeezes me so good,” Fynn moans breathily.
“Fill me up. I want all of your dick juice.” I continue to rock on him as if I could milk every last drop with my pussy.
He grabs onto my shoulder and pulls me back against him. I can feel his balls smashed against my pussy. His cock swells a final time, and then he's spent.
“Fuck, your pussy is so good. I can't believe it's mine for the rest of my life.” Fynn leans over and kisses me between my shoulder blades.
“And this cock is mine.” I grin at him, looking utterly satisfied.
“I'm all yours. And you're all mine. Forever.” He gazes down at me.
“Forever,” I repeat, never happier to say that word.
EPILOGUE
FYNN
FIVE YEARS LATER
My father's threats proved to be idle. He never sent men to arrest me or tear Anya from my arms. For that, we were both grateful.
I returned to my post the following day. Things with Daniel were tense. He might not have talked to me if not for the fact that we still had to work together. When I told him that I had gotten married, he took the news grudgingly, but his concern seemed more about the fact that I rushed into things than over who I married. He called Anya a bewitching beauty, but not the right girl for me.
A week later, I was sent home. Father made no mention of my marriage over the phone, and I didn't bring it up either. Maybe he thought I had listened to him. Perhaps Daniel didn't report anything further. Whatever the case, Anya was an unpleasant surprise when we arrived.
The controversy of me marrying an outsider rocked the nation and created tension within my family for several months. My mother welcomed Anya into the family with open arms. My father, not so much. Though as soon as Anya began to show, he started to warm up to her.
When the war ended and Daniel was able to return home, he avoided us like the plague until I demanded that he attend a private dinner with the two of us. There was silence at the table for a good five minutes before we finally all dumped our feelings on the table and hashed things out. By that time, Anya was about ready to pop with our first kid. When she asked Daniel to be the godfather, that melted the ice around his heart. I'm beginning to think that babies solve all problems. If that's the case, I'll keep Anya pregnant until she hits menopause. I want a large family anyway.
Anya has proven to be an asset to the crown. Refusing to be content with simply bearing and mothering my children, she's taken on several roles throughout the years. She helped the transition of absorbing her small country into our nation go a lot smoother by giving a local voice to her people and alleviating their fears of the changes that were coming. She assisted in the effort to rebuild the harder hit parts of her country, making me fly with her to get down in the dirt with multiple reconstruction projects. Together, we've built schools and houses, and thanks to her patience and understanding, I've been able to get a better grasp on her people's needs. She's a huge supporter of children's charities, helping the homeless, and research for curing diseases such as cancer and HIV. It feels like every weekend she's dragging me to some function for a good cause.
Thanks to her involvement in both local and foreign affairs, my father's hatred for her has completely disappeared. In fact, sometimes I think he believes she makes a better royal and child than I do. He's constantly telling me that I got lucky when I found her.
“You didn't think so back then,” I remind him with a smirk.
He brushes the comment away as if the past never existed. He's great at that, not admitting when he is wrong.
Anya has dragged me alo
ng to the opening of a new children's hospital that we helped to fund. With three girls of our own and another baby on the way, we've had our fair share of medical scares, though thankfully nothing major. We left the kids at home with their nanny tonight, and I immediately miss them as I see the faces of the ill children flashing up on the large projector screen behind the speaking podium.
I squeeze Anya's hand, my eyes falling to her belly, praying to God our next baby is healthy. We shouldn't have come here tonight. Anya's due to give birth anytime now. She doesn't need the stress of being around so many people, but she insisted on speaking at this event. She's stubborn like that. Originally, they had planned to open this hospital two weeks earlier, but there were some issues that pushed it back.
“Are you going to be alright?” I ask her quickly when they announce her name.
“Stop worrying about me,” she chastises me. “You fret too much.”
I do. It's a bad habit. But it's hard to watch the love of my life waddle up on stage when the doctor specifically ordered her to stay home. I shift uncomfortably, my eyes falling to her ass for a moment before moving up to her arms which are clutching her stomach like it takes effort to carry it up the steps to the stage. Pregnancy has made Anya's hips fill out beautifully. When she turns to face the audience, I can't help but smile at how she glows. She was born to bear my children.
Anya clears her throat, her eyes sweeping the room before she looks down at the notes that she brought with her. She's spent countless hours memorizing her speech, but she always brings a sheet or two of paper with the most important points jotted down. When her eyes meet mine, I smile at her for support, thinking about how stunning she is in her long white lace dress. She looks every bit the princess she deserved to become.
“My fellow patrons, doctors, nurses, staff and supporters of this project,” she begins. “We are here today to celebrate the opening of Willow Gardens Children's Hospital, the first hospital in Palperroth fully dedicated to the cure and treatment of children's diseases and illnesses. Prior to the conception of this project, the nearest facility with a focus on pediatric care was ohhh.” Her eyes shoot down to the paper on the podium, and she clutches her stomach. My body tenses and I sit up straight in my chair, but the second that concern flashes across my face, she seems to recover. “Sorry about that,” Anya laughs uncomfortably. “I think the baby just kicked.” She swallows hard before refocusing her attention. “The nearest facility with a focus on pediatric ughh.” This time she grips the podium, and when she hunches over, I fly to my feet to come to her aid.
By the time I reach her, medical professionals have already crowded around her in concern. The wetness beneath her feet spells exactly what's going on.
“Come on guys,” one of the doctor's yells. “It looks like Willow Gardens is going to experience its first birth.”
Everyone claps as my wife and I leave the podium and make our way to labor and delivery. Anya puts on a brave smile for our onlookers, trying to hide her pain. The hospital is brand new, and our obstetrician came with us just in case this exact thing happened, so we have no worries about delivering here. Still, I feel bad that she's giving birth so far from home and our other children. But we talked about this possibility well before leaving the palace.
Once they have her settled in, I stay by her side, clutching her hand. She's been through this several times already, but I always feel like she might break my fingers when the contractions hit. It makes it hard not to grin. She fucking hates it when I grin while she's in labor. That's when I get the most backlash—the 'I hate yous' and 'Why did I let you do this to me AGAIN.'
“You've got this, babe.” I brush her hair away from her forehead; it was matted to her skin with sweat.
She glares at me. “You're so getting snipped after this.”
I shake my head, fighting back a smirk. “Nope. We still have to do this two more times.”
“You say that from this end.” She crushes my fingers in her palm as another contraction rips through her.
“You know it will all be worth it when this is over,” I try to soothe her.
“I know,” she breathes heavily. “I just want it to be over.”
Two hours later, and it is. I stand by Anya's side as she clutches our son in her arms, doting on his tiny little fingers and toes and cooing at him as if the pain never happened at all. Now she's glowing for a different reason. Perhaps we both are, as proud parents yet again.
“I don't hate you anymore,” she tells me with a smile.
“I would hope not.” I crouch down beside her, trying to steal some of our son's attention, though he seems completely fixated on his beautiful mother. I can't blame him. “Look at that, it's like I don't even exist. Like you're the only person in the entire world.”
“He's just getting used to this new world. Aren't you?” She glances around the room as if the four walls painted with brightly colored animals are a wonder to behold.
“Looks like the apple didn't fall far from the tree.” I gently brush my hand over his wispy brown hair which is reminiscent of mine when I was a baby.
“He does look a lot like you. He's got your hair and your eyes. But I think he has my nose.”
“That's not what I meant.” I look up at Anya. She meets my gaze and is swept up in momentary confusion. “From the first time I laid my eyes on you, you became my entire world, too.”
“Oh Fynn,” she beams at me. “I love you so much.”
“But not half as much as you love this little guy.” I carefully shake our son's hand. Finally, he glances up at me, though his eyes are quickly drawn back to Anya.
“Maybe just a little less than I love him,” she admits, her voice going serious, though I know she's just teasing me.
“Looks like I've got competition for your love.” My eyes flash playfully.
“You knew you would have competition for my love the second you knocked me up. And yet you keep doing it.”
“Indeed.” I grin. “And I can't wait to do it again.”
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Sky Corgan is the USA Today bestselling author of Bully. She lives in Texas where the sun is hot and the men are hotter. When she's not typing away at her next steamy romance novel, she enjoys hanging out with friends and attending kinky BDSM clubs. Many of the events in her books are based on things that actually happened, and she greatly fancies infusing real life with fantasy.
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Also By Sky Corgan:
Bully
Unmatchable
Torn
Damaged
Back to the Heart
Primal
Revenge Games
Flesh
Mixed Up
Sold Innocence
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Bonus Book One
Not His Submissive
CHAPTER ONE
It was one of the saddest yet happiest days of my life. In a few short hours, I would be flying to meet the man I had been promised to, multibillionaire Jack Kemble. He was practically a movie star—a man of every woman's dreams, with a chiseled physique and a smile that could stop you dead in your tracks.
It wasn't all happy times, though. As I sat in my room, my gaze darted to all the memories on my bedroom walls, avoiding the eyes of the man in front of me. Liam and I had been best friends since kindergarten, and as the years turned us from innocent children into adults, it had been clear that he wanted something more. Still, my arranged marriage had kept any feelings that I had for him at bay, and he had suff
ered through it, just content to be by my side.
Now I would have to say goodbye to him forever, and I could almost feel his heart breaking as he stared at me longingly.
“Please reconsider, Melita. You know you don't want this.” His voice was strained, and I could hear the crisp pain in his words.
“You know that I have to do this for my family.” I let my eyes fall to my hands, and then they instinctively crossed my lap to his. His thick fingers twitched, and I couldn't help but remember all the times those same unsteady hands had held me in my moments of darkness. How would I ever survive without those strong hands to comfort me?
The tears began to flow, despite my resolve not to cry. Crying would only weaken both of us, and I didn't want to hurt him any more than I already had.
“What if you don't love this man?” he asked.
“People don't always marry for love,” I reminded him, trying to recall the lessons my mother had taught me.
Coming from a wealthy family wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Often times, marriages were arranged so that two families could join assets, making them both even wealthier. My parents were deeply enriched in the oil business, while Jack's family was into everything else. If our marriage went through as planned, my family would give Jack a large sum of money to expand his business to overseas markets, and my father would become CFO of Jack's corporation. It was a win/win situation for all involved.
If not for Liam, it would have been a win for me as well. What girl didn't want to marry a handsome billionaire? But the ties that bound me to Liam were strong, and there were definite secret feelings there. Leaving him would break my heart.
“It's time to go,” my mother said through the bedroom door.
“I'll miss you,” I told Liam, taking his hand into mine.
“If he doesn't treat you well, you come back to me. Do you understand?” His voice commanded my attention, and I allowed myself to gaze into his silvery-blue eyes a final time. So beautiful and soothing. I would miss them, too, the way they seemed to look at me with all of the gentleness and affection in the world.
