My tongue flaps with words; millions of them have been stalking my mind for the past two weeks.
“I thought you died,” I manage to say. Happiness floods with old emotions, and tears spit from my eyes. “I thought you died!” My voice pitches higher. “Don’t do that. Don’t do that again.”
“Don’t die again?” he asks, amused.
“Don’t you laugh at me, Rome of The Strait! I have been all alone! You…” I grab his thick forearm, needing the unyielding pillar to hold myself up. I am so heavy. “You will never do that again. I forbid it. Swear it to me.”
He sighs, eyes reverently roaming my face for each detail. “I swear I will never die again, little creature.” He humours me.
I beam at him. Hot sweat slides down my forehead. I breathe deep. Dizzy. My body wants to drop backward, tired; my heart wants to leap into his chest, to be with his; my eyes want to take in every new scar, memorise them; my nipples and core want pressure, so much pressure.
Pregnancy.
It’s strange.
Demanding.
A potent condition.
Rome’s brows pinch, his eyes darting to my swollen stomach. His hands come up, cup either side, covering the entire surface, and cradle the weight. Lift it. Fingers pan out, touching and caressing my tight skin. The baby rolls around, kneading into their father’s giant hands.
“Incredible.” He grins. “Need me to make amends, sweet creature? Make it all better with my tongue?”
I nod, my lower lip trembling with emotion. “Yes, please, my king.”
His eyes darken, menacing intent creeping into the depth of them. “Oh, it’s ‘my king,’ now?”
He leans forward, reaches behind me, forcing me back with his encroaching wall of muscles. The weight of his heir pulls me to my spine, but not before he grabs a pillow and slides it to support my back.
My belly protrudes.
I feel like a blob of custard.
Horrible and vulnerable.
But then his lips meet mine quick, and I forget… “What did you just call me?” The heated words rush along my trembling mouth.
I hesitate. “Rome of The Strait…?”
“You want attention. What happens to your sweet body when you demand attention?”
I swallow as his hot mouth slides down to my chin, sucking and mouthing a trail to my breasts. His tongue flicks my nipple, then treats each sensitive bud through the silk of my gown, wetting the fabric and heating the fibres.
His kiss moves to my stomach.
Moaning, I slide my fingers through his dark hair, the strands parting as my nails drag up and down, up and down.
He shudders and groans. Muscles tremble, vibrating the bed. His chest rumbles—purrs.
My beast.
My king.
Closing my eyes, I simply enjoy the heat of his hands as they travel my skin, exploring and journeying leisurely. Ankle. Leg. Hip.
Between my thighs.
He dips his finger into my core. I immediately arch with a whimper of delirious pleasure. Want it.
Want more.
Deeper.
My body lifts and writhes, missing the depth and thickness of his all-consuming touch.
Hips chasing his finger, I lick my lips and focus on breathing. My lungs are tight.
“Mine,” he rasps, crawling between my legs. I spread my thighs. “Wider.” His mouth meets the top of my pussy, sucking and licking the coil of nerves while his clever finger slides in and out of me. “Be very cautious with your tone, little creature,” he warns, dark and delicious.
My toes curl as he licks and sucks me between his deep utterances. “I may be Rome of The Strait, but you will submit to me. Submit and spread.” A second finger slides in. “Adore. Pleasure. Provide. That does not change.”
Gasping for air, losing reality to his greedy kiss, I paw the back of his head and lift my pelvis, grinding on him. Grip him. Grind. Not submitting. Demanding. More.
“Oh, you really want attention, huh?”
He rears up to his knees and my heart races, beating so hard inside my heaving chest, as his heated, daring eyes lick up and down my body, hovering over my swollen belly. “You are so mine.”
Groaning, he undoes his belt and pants.
Rome strips down and fists the heavy, dripping length of his cock, jerking until the crown flushes. “Submitting does not make you inferior to me. It means you respect me. You respect your king. Show me. Show me your respect.”
I spread my thighs wider in offering but try to quell my tiny slithers of fear. Having this formidable Xin De King looming over me, stroking the monstrous thing that will be pulsing inside me soon, still intimidates me.
I know he could break me.
He grips the bedframe, and I throw my legs around the back of his thighs. Without any further words, he pushes inside me, stretches me, unfolding me and adding girth that touches and kneads every inch of my channel.
Sobbing with utter relief, I clutch his flanks, holding the powerful muscles as he works his cock in and out of me. Lips graze my forehead. His arm above my head takes his weight, his body rolling against me, brushing the swell of my stomach.
“Is this what you want?” He fills me and empties me, methodical and rhythmic, sending my mind into a haze of bliss and uncertainty.
So deep.
Empty.
So full.
Empty.
“You feel so good,” he purrs. “You like your king stretching your tight, little pussy open. Don’t you, sweet creature?”
Abruptly, he pins me to the pillow by my throat, fingers circling the thin column with ease.
He growls with each thrust.
“Remember your claws, Aster…”
When he reminds me of my claws, reinforcing my safety. That he will stop. Listen. I unravel and relax, my insides gripping and grabbing at his hard length.
Then he starts to really move.
Pleasure builds at a relentless pace until I am drowning in its embrace, my entire body awash with it.
“Rome,” I cry out.
His cock lengthens within my pulsing core. And he curses, pulls out, throws his head back, and pumps his cum across my stomach, claiming the swollen mound, using his hand. “Aster… I love you. Fuck me, Aster, I love you.”
I watch the erotic scene, his veined forearms contracting, his fist working every spurt out. “I love you, too, my king.”
He drops to his hands on either side of me, creating a frame of muscles around my body. Firm, authoritarian lips move to mine, needing wholesome affection. A kiss.
A kiss from my lover.
From my king.
We both pant into each other’s mouths while pleasure lingers and plays a soft encore.
Too soon, he breaks our kiss. Presses his forehead to mine. “Have you been well?” A warm hand touches the mound at my hips. “Is it getting too hard? We can incubate soon.”
“I can keep going. A little longer.”
“That’s my good little Silk Girl.” He kisses me once. “You can try, but I will make the call. My heir will survive perfectly fine in the coming months outside your body. You have done such a good job, Aster. And you will respect my decision when it comes. Understand, little creature?”
I nod. “It is only… I am not sleeping well.”
He hums, a menacing and depthless sound. “You’re working so hard for me. So tired. Let me help my sweet creature get some sleep.”
Scooping me up as if I weigh nothing, he lays me on my side, with my pillow, crown to the foot of the bed.
He lies the opposite way.
I squirm. “What are yo—”