Page 36 of Owned By Royal

“More than okay.” I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Move, Royal. Please.”

He starts to thrust, slow and deep, each stroke hitting that spot inside me that makes my vision blur. I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin, and meet him stroke for stroke. The desk creaks beneath us, and I laugh, breathless, at the absurdity of it.

“Quiet,” he murmurs, but he’s smiling. “Unless you want the neighbors to know.”

“Maybe I do,” I tease, and he thrusts harder, making me gasp.

He keeps that pace, relentless and deep, his hands braced on either side of my head. I watch his face, the concentration there, the love and lust mingling in his dark eyes. He’s beautiful, this man, this husband, this father of my child.

“Touch yourself,” he commands. “I want to feel you come around me.”

I slide my hand between us, finding my clit, and circle it slowly. The sensation, combined with the steady pressure of him inside me, builds quickly, a heat gathering at my core, spreading through my limbs like wildfire.

“Royal,” I gasp, my body tensing. “I’m close…”

“Come for me,” he growls, his pace faltering slightly. “Come with me, Sierra. Now.”

The orgasm crashes through me like a wave, like a flood, endless and overwhelming. I cry out, my body convulsing around him. He follows, burying himself deep and spilling inside me with a ragged groan.

We stay like that for a moment, breathing hard, connected, complete. He presses gentle kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips.

“I love you,” he whispers as he leaves the warmth of my sex.

“I love you too,” I breathe back.

Then I feel it. A strange pressure, a warm gush between my legs that has nothing to do with what we just did. I freeze, my eyes widening.

“Royal,” I say, my voice strangely calm. “I think my water just broke.”

He pulls back, his face a mask of shock and panic. “What? Now?”

I nod, and absolute chaos erupts.

⁎⁎⁎

Royal

Nothing in my life has ever prepared me for the moment I hear my daughter cry for the first time.

I’ve faced armed criminals without hesitation. I’ve stared down men capable of unimaginable violence. I’ve infiltrated trafficking rings, dismantled criminal organizations, and spent years believing I understood fear.

I was wrong.

Fear is standing in a delivery room, listening to the woman you love struggle through labor while knowing there is absolutely nothing you can do except wait and stay by her side. River, Roman, Raiden, Riccardo, Nadia, Elodie, Cora, and Yvonne are in the waiting room.

I called everyone during the drive to the hospital, my hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped my phone twice. And somehow they’ve all arrived before I have time to process what’s happening.

Then the doctor smiles up at me. “Congratulations.”

I don’t remember crossing the room. One moment, I’m standing beside Sierra, her hand gripping mine. Next, I’m staring down at the beautiful bundle. The nurse places the baby in Sierra’s arms, and she cradles her with a joyful cry.

Sierra looks exhausted. Beautiful. Radiant. She’s cradling the tiniest human being I’ve ever seen against her chest, tears glistening in her eyes as she looks up at me.

“Come see,” she whispers.

I don’t trust myself to speak. Instead, I walk to the bedside, gently taking the seat she makes for me before carefully wrapping one arm around both of them. Our daughter opens her eyes, and my heart is gone. Just... Gone.

“I can’t believe she’s real,” I whisper.