He slowly winds himself down by rolling slowly, wringing out every powerful burst of cum. I feel it inside me. Wet. Thick. Powerful.
I wriggle on the pillow stuffed below my hips, so entirely enjoyed and possessed by the man holding me down. I pant deeply, my own orgasm a trickling sensation now.
Still breathing hard, my brain reaches for the sentence he uttered about children. "Did you saysoon, Sir?"
"Don't move, little deer," he says, easing himself from me with gentle precision, so as to not drag his cum from inside me. "Be a good girl. Stay nice and still for me."
He kisses down my spine, and I close my eyes, feeling each gentle touch of his lips on my back like the promise of a future. Like the gift of our forever. And emotions build, tears rising.He wants to have a baby with me.
His declarations to keep me, care for me, spoil me, have never been so concrete, so real… He wants to have a baby with me. Not like before. Not just accept the responsibility of the one already growing inside me when no one else would but to actually make one.
With. Me.
God.
I start to sob softly, tears wetting the fabric beneath me. "Are we going to have a baby together?"
"Yes, little deer. " He kisses my spine again. "Don't cry. It pains me. You asked once if I could love someone who found their accomplishments in being a good mother. You spoke of this in your grief. And I promised to spoil you. You want to be a mother. I want to watch you swell with my babies, watch you nurse them and bring them comfort. Besweetwith them. Give them all the things—" He stops talking but I hear his mind whispering, 'All the things we didn't have.'
All the things we didn't have.
A sense of home.
Luca admitted to his inadequacies as a father, but what about Clay's mother? She seems to adore him. Was she really that terrible a parent? A neglectful woman, maybe?
I sniffle a little as relief reaches out and wraps me in a weighted blanket. I didn't realise just how much I wanted this. Yearned for this. How I found a sense of purpose when I was pregnant. Like the baby gave me a new life…
It's why I want to cook and stack pillows and make spaces comfortable and fun.
It's because other little girls laid in bed, held awake by their father's snoring and the sugar-high from their mother's freshly baked cake, and they imagined their future of fame, of degrees and doctorates, of money and wealth. Of being successful and independent.
While I imagined being them.
I'm an orphan.
My fairy-tale is family.
And Clay Butcher knows it.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
fawn
"Don't move, sweet girl."Rough fingers slide along my forehead, my loose hair tickling my skin as they sweep it from my face. The smell of cologne and warm clean male flesh rolls over me. "You should sleep for a few more hours."
I slowly bat my lashes, opening my eyes to the dim room, and find him sitting beside me on the mattress. Feeling my body in that perfectly tucked-in state that means he's taken the time to cover me, and position me, I smile sleepily.
"I have to go."
What?
I squint at the breathtaking man looking down at me, my eyes panning his slightly damp hair, his clean-shaven jawline, and his pristine black suit.
I jolt up, rolling the heels of my palms along my eyes, working them into focus. "What do you mean? Why are you dressed?" Darting my gaze to the window, I see the sky is still a black abyss dotted with multicoloured lights from the city. "What time is it?"
"I said don't move," he deadpans, and I fall back on the mattress as he hovers over me, a serious look in his eyes. "Don't be frightened, but I have to leave."
The quiet circles us, the hum from the air conditioner the only interruption to our breath.