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Oh God, he is.
He agreed. He’s going to give me what I want.
I should be happy.
But I’m not. I’m devastated right now.
I’m all but destroyed.
Because he’ll give me a baby.
And I’ll give him revenge.
I’ll use him to get pregnant and then I’ll leave him behind.
As soon as I find out I’m pregnant, I’ll cut all ties with him, and I’ll take his baby — I’ll take her — away from him.
And that is how I’ll get my closure.
Chapter Seventeen
Her Beautiful Thorn
I have a secret too.
Just like her.
No, it’s not that I turn into a wolf during the full moon or I have powers that I use to save the world.
It’s the fact that when I went to her that night, revenge wasn’t the only thing in my mind.
There was something else too.
Something that I’d never felt before that night.
Actually, it’s something that I’d never felt before I met her.
A need.
That only grew as soon as she opened the door in her white satin pajamas, looking all virginal and fuckable. And it kept growing and growing when I fell on her lips like an animal. Like I’d wanted to do since the first time I saw her on the hood of her brother’s car. By the time I had her under me, naked and open, trusting, my need had grown a heart and ten heads.
My need had grown beastly.
And it had nothing to do with teaching her brother a lesson or exacting revenge, and everything to do with her.
My Firefly.
It had everything to do with trapping her in a jar.
To bind her.
To tie her to me so tightly and firmly, so permanently, that she never ever gets free.
That no one could ever take her away from me. Not the world. Not her brother.
Not even myself. Or soccer or my career, my goals and ambitions.
It was the need to mark her. From the inside. The need to fill her and pump her full of me.
Breed her.
It’s the same need that rears its head when I see her with Halo. When I see her playing with Halo’s chubby cheeks or fists; when I see her soothe Halo; strap Berry to her chest like she’s really a mother.
Like this is what she was born to do.
To give, to nurture.
To soothe.
In fact it’s gotten worse over the past year, this need. Maybe because I’ve already had a taste of it, of her. A taste of what her tight little body would look like, all swollen and ripe. Her creamy skin creamier. Her plump tits plumper. Her pink fucking pussy pinker.
My personal candy land.
All sugared up and juicy.
I wasn’t lying when I said that yes, I have thought about it.
About getting her pregnant and taking care of her. Easing her pains as she grows. Holding her hand as she gives birth to our baby girl. Fucking staring at her as she feeds our baby with her tits and then falling on her myself to feed.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I don’t need to think about that right now.
Not when I’m driving back and my boner’s already hurting and pressing against my jeans. This is not the time to get into a fucking accident or worse, die.
When I’m so close to getting what I want.
So close to having all my dreams come true.
So I stop by the side of a deserted street and take out my dick.
I rub it and rub it, my cock already slippery from all the pre-cum that keeps dripping. It keeps dripping and dripping as I think about all the ways I’ll get to play with her now, all the ways that I’ll get to pump her full of me.
All the ways that I’ll get to make her mine.
I come at the thought of squirting my load on her swollen belly as I squirt milk from her tits into my mouth.
And Jesus, I come like a fucking beast.
My cum soiling my hands, my jeans, spurting onto to the clenched shelf of my abs.
Once I’m done, I fall against the seat and breathe.
I close my eyes and try to get my raging, aggressive feelings under control. And think.
I need to think.
I can’t get carried away. This isn’t about me or what I want. It’s about her. I’ve already taken a lot from her and I can’t take this away from her too. I can’t make it all about me.
I wanted a way to fix things, didn’t I?
A way to make amends or at least begin to.
This is it.
Which means I can’t keep her.
As much as I want to, I can’t trap her in a jar. Not only because she doesn’t want it — she just wants a baby — but also because I have my own bullshit, don’t I?
Nothing has really changed from before.
I still have my career to think about, which apparently feels like it’s in the gutter right now. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have goals. That I won’t do everything that I can — except bow down to my brothers — to revive it. To come out on fucking top and show them.
