Page 40 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“We don’t know the gender yet, should we really be shopping?’

Ruslan being himself, shrugs. “Buy for both genders. If it’s a boy, we can save the girl’s clothes for next round.”

A steady stream of erratic heartbeats string together as I swing around to him from the pram section. “Next time, excuse me?” An eyebrow shoots up as Ruslan reveals his master plan, stroking his beard with a diabolical grin.

“This isn’t the last baby you’re carrying for me. As my wife, you are going to give me more. Becoming Mrs. Utkin comes at a price.” He winks as I digest how I feel about what he’s saying.

Shit. I didn’t sign up to be a baby-making machine.“We’ll see,” I say, not wanting to concede so easily.

Ruslan says everything and nothing all at the same, as I ooo and ahh over purchases, eventually deciding to put baby shopping on the back burner.

“Let’s just wait until the gender reveal before we buy anything.

“No problem, and how about one more stop?”

“Sure. Where are we going?”

I quickly find out where we’re going is a lingerie shop, Perle. I know what he’s doing, but wearing nice underwear isn’t something I’m adverse to. Ruslan has very specific ideas I realize when he picks up a racy red teddy with suspenders, making me blush in the store.

“I think you should try this one. They’ve got in a pretty sky blue too, and it offsets those siren eyes of yours. Do it for me,” he asks, the timbre of his powerful voice, sending a sharp lighthouse signal to my pussy.

“Alright, I’ll try it on,” I reply quietly, closing the changeroom door, staring at my changing body in the red number. My breasts have swollen, not that I was ever lacking in that department, but the pregnancy, even if I’m only at four months is started to prepare my body for what’s to come. My stomach is still relatively flat, just with a little round mound of showing. My shapely legs and ass are intact, and I’m shocked by the sensual beauty I’m seeing in front of me.

I switch out of the red and into the sky blue, its light tones suiting me even better than the red. A knock on the door startles me as I realize I didn’t lock it.

Shit!But it’s not the staff, it’s Ruslan, and he’s eyeing me up and down, his fire contained in the space.

“You are so hot right now. Fuck me,” he growls, encroaching in on my space, holding his hands out on either side of me in the small, boxed enclosure. The instantaneous chemical attraction overrides all logical reasoning, and there might be no one in the fitting rooms, but there sure as hell are women browsing for their own personal fantasies to come true. Mine just happen to be playing out on site. His hands grip on to my bare ass as he jiggles it, a deep groan erupting from him, its sound humming through the base of my neck. Instantly mypanties moisten as a hot shot of electricity circuits through my body, my legs morphing into Jell-O.

“Ruslan,” I breathe out, craving him as I splay my hand on his thickly muscled chest.

He shakes his head. “I can’t wait until our wedding night. Not with you in this. I just fucking can’t. Forgive me,” he requests as I expose my own truth.

“I can’t wait either,” I reply, exhilaration and a healthy dose of pregnancy hormones zipping through my wanton body. Our mouths clash together momentarily as Ruslan issues a warning between kisses.

“Be quiet when I make you come, and I plan to do it twice.” His hot directive leads to a tiny whimper escaping my lips, which I’m hoping the soft melodic piano music of the department store drowns out, but I can’t be sure, and frankly, right now, I don’t care.

Ruslan places the shh symbol against my lips, replacing it with his insistent mouth, the soft underbrush of his beard, tickling my lips.

When he lets me up for air, I pant, “I don’t know if I can.” I am both scared and enthralled by what he’s about to do to me next.

“You’re going to have to, Red October.”

“Okay.”

Ruslan’s dark hair hangs in a small curl in front of his eyes, and if I stare too long into the abyss of his onyx-colored pupils any longer, I’m afraid I might lose myself. He’s all broad shoulders, tattoos, dangerous charm, and manipulation. Burning up on the inside, I watch as his hands trail down mybody to the top of my thighs, his fingers snapping the garters together as the pain of him not touching me where it aches—grows.

“There we go, that’s better,” he growls with a wet whisper in my ear, thrusting himself into my leg. I’m not one bit self-conscious anymore about the fact our feverish determination to devour one another might cause a commotion and get us kicked out of the department store.

All that matters is I want Ruslan, and he wants me. Ruslan buries his face between my breasts, pushing against me as he uses one like a squeezable toy. His fingers now seeking entry in the hot, slick center of my pussy. His digits glide in and out as his head leans against mine, my lower half quivering as I pant into his ear. Desperately, I spin my voluptuous hips around his magic fingers, biting my bottom lip so hard, I think it’s going to bleed.

“Ruslan, I need more,” I say, movement in the fitting rooms forcing me into a giggle. “Shit, I think somebody else is in here.”

“Then open your legs, and I’ll give you more. We’re not leaving here until I make you come.” I bite back a groan as Ruslan drops his pants, angling himself inside me as I lift my legs to wrap around him. My head thumps against the dry wall, but I’m too caught up to care.

“What was that?” someone calls out, but the retail sales assistant bypasses the customer’s concerns, either because she knows what we’re doing or genuinely thinks the loudthunkwas nothing.

Ruslan still works, silently with his pants and underwear snaked around his ankles, as he thrusts his hefty cock inside me, stretching my walls as all the grief, worries, and angst about our future is buried by our temporary pleasure-seeking.

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