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She nods. “I asked him to give me some time to break the news to you.”
The wheels start turning in my head. How long ago was that? Two, three days? Dr. Khatri is renowned for his discretion—that’s how he got that gig as head of the Empire’s medical team. But he’s also on my father’s payroll.
That’s where the problem comes in.
I don’t want my father to find out Alize is pregnant. Not while we’re staying in this house. If he’s so insistent on ending our engagement, I can’t even bring myself to imagine how far he’ll go once he finds out that we’re having a baby.
Alize has picked up on my shift in mood. I stroke her hair, forcing myself to smile. Stress isn’t good for the baby. “I’m happy that he gave you the chance to tell me yourself. I’d much rather hear it from you.”
She grins and I lean down to kiss her forehead.
“Don’t think I’m not mad at you anymore for getting my DNA tested behind my back,” she says abruptly, catapulting me back to the moment before she told me the news. “I’m still pissed.”
“You’re fucking horrendous at being upset, then,” I say, trailing my hand along the column of her neck. She shudders beneath my touch, goosebumps rising along her soft skin. Fuck, I love how expressive this woman is. “You know, I should’ve figured out you were pregnant.”
She quirks an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from the arousal I know is heating her blood at this very moment. “How?”
I lean in, close enough that I can smell her cinnamon skin.
“Your pussy has been so wet the last couple weeks. Like, wetter than usual,” I whisper. Her eyes flutter closed as I train my hand lower, brushing against her breasts.
She licks her lips. “Is that a thing?”
“So I’ve heard,” I say. “But I think we should test that theory, don’t you?”
Alize nods before the words are even out of my mouth. I grin, twisting to get better access to her body. She’s dressed in a silky shorts set. If she just got out of the shower, there’s a chance that she’s completely bare. I slip a hand down the elastic waistband of her shorts to find that my theory was right.
My fingers brush against the tiny tuft of hair by her mound, and my fingertips are met with the liquid gold seeping through her folds. “So wet already?”
“I can’t help it,” she says. I stroke the pad of my ring finger along her slit. Alize moans, her hips rising to meet my touch. "It's been different for me, too. I've been so turned on all the time."
I part her folds, teasing her slick clit. Trailing two fingers lower, she bites her lips and rocks her hips forward for more. The muted rays from the lamp across the room casts golden rays on her dark skin. My cock strains painfully against my trousers.
"How much?"
I circle her clit again, and she mewls.
"Even when you were being such an asshole in the car." She hisses as my fingers inch closer toward her entrance. "I wanted you to pull over and fuck me."
A chuckle rumbles in my chest even as her admission has my cock growing impossibly harder. The hot, thick lust is seeping through my skin. The room is suddenly hotter, and now I'm annoyed that we're both still clothed.
My fingers are still working her core with slow, deliberated motions, her sopping pussy clenching my fingers, her face flushed with desire. I need her–now. I want to grab her and toss her across the bed and fuck her the way I know she needs.
But I hesitate, and she realizes why.
"You don't need to be gentle," she says breathily, her eyes still closed as she rides my fingers. "I'm pregnant, not made of glass."
A bolt of lust hits me.
In theory, I want to be gentle, to savour her—but losing myself in her is so much more appealing. After all, my seed growing inside her was made from our love, and it's never been fucking gentle. I want to thrust into her without mercy, to feel her cunt convulsing around my cock, her fingernails razing my skin.
"Say it again," I growl, slipping a third finger into her. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart."
Her pussy squeezes my fingers, and she parts her lips to say something snarky—I can see it in the set of her mouth. I curl my fingers against her walls, slipping them in and out in such quick succession that the words are lost on a gapping breath.
"Fuck me," she says, panting. "Please."
"With pleasure, my love."
