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It will be a union that works well.
Though I did not expect to have a child with a woman as young as Anna, I have no regrets.
My little virgin has done well, though I have to wonder at her knowledge of the pregnancy. She is around five months along.
Did she know about the baby before she ran from me?
Did she choose not to tell me?
The little angel would do everything she could to protect our baby, especially if she viewed me as a threat. The way she stared at me in her living room when I retrieved her from Pennsylvania was proof of that. She is willing to lay her life on the line for our child. She is fierce when backed into a corner. I like her fighting spirit, I am fucking proud of her, but it’s not something I’ll tell her anytime soon.
In time, she will learn that there is no reason to fear me when it comes to the safety of our child. I will protect our child with my life, and Anna too, they are my family now.
She turns to Rosita, suggesting something. The two of them take off toward the pond that sits at the edge of the garden.
Anna’s dress drags up her thighs as the wind gushes past her, exposing her creamy skin to the sunlight. My cock swells to life behind my zipper.
Though I want to take out my erection and fuck my hand raw until I come, I will not settle for that again.
Not if I have Anna in my home. She is going to beg for me and only then will I give in.
It has been too long since I have taken her, but patience will be key.
Denying her the pleasure she seeks will be her punishment for escaping me.
Chapter 15 - Anna
The warm water turns cold as the last of the bubbles burst. The scent of cinnamon and maple syrup clings to my skin as I stand and let the water drip down my body.
I brush my fingers over the curve of my stomach. The baby kicking beneath my hand. With a smile, I stroke over my baby bump.
Time is flying by, and it won’t be long until I get to meet my baby.
And then I shall find out if I am going to live or die.
I stare down at the stretchmarks forming around the curve of my stomach, wishing that there was something I could do to get rid of them. They crawl across my stomach like spiderwebs.
Even though they are a product of my baby, it’s hard to look in the mirror and feel good about myself these days.
I sigh and step out of the clawfoot tub, reaching for one of the dark gray towels. I drape it over my body, soaking up some of the water. I take my time because I know that the reality of my new life, of which I know nothing yet, will catch up with me as soon as I get out of the bathroom.
It’s been four days since Sergey dragged me back to his house in New York and in that time, I have barely seen him.
Now and then I see glimpses of his hulking figure moving through the hallways, those stormy blue eyes searching for me. To be near him, and yet not near enough, is torture. It faintly reminds me of the butterflies he once triggered in me. I miss him, I miss his touch, his warm, strong embrace.
It’s thrilling in a way I didn’t think it would be. The fear of him is fading, giving into the excitement of wondering when he will come for me. And I am sure that he will come for me eventually, though I do not know what will happen when he does.
Will he tell me that the luxurious room he has given me was just a trap to make me feel comfortable and I will be moving to some dungeon in the basement?
Will he tell me that I will live only until the baby is here and then he will kill me?
Maybe he will strip down like he does in my fantasies, telling me that endless orgasms are the only way he plans to punish me.
I want to lose all feeling in my body the way I did when he had sex with me on the plane. It’s almost as if I need to feel him deep inside me to feel whole again. If I could only have him once more, and my life ends tomorrow, I would die a happy woman.
Stupid girl. I look in the mirror, my eyes shining bright amber with anticipation, a rosy flush on my cheeks as wetness gathers between my thighs at the thought of being with Sergey again. As I sort through the tangles of my damp, shoulder-length locks, a figure appears in the mirror and sits down on the edge of my bed.
Just a broad shoulder and a thigh are visible, but a tug deep in my stomach tells me that it’s Sergey. Lust rolls over me in waves. I’ve spent far too much time thinking about what he does to my body and not enough time begging for him to do it again.
