Page 47 of Coerced Queen

So wet.

For me.

I work down the zipper of my jeans and free my cock.I’m still kissing her when I lift her thigh to open her wider.She hooks her leg around my hip, holding on as I position my cock and tear into her, too impatient to go slowly.She gasps, her nails cutting into my scalp as she keeps me close.Rolling my hips, I find the right spot before I give her more—harder and deeper.

She moans, then swallows the sound and bites her lip.

My knee threatens to fold, but I keep on going, pounding into her, because I can’t give this up.I can’t love her, but I can’t let her go.God knows I tried.I came as close as the passports taunting me in my desk, and she would’ve been wise to grab the chance at happiness.Now?She’s stuck with me.At least for a while.And I know I’m going to break her heart.

So I move faster still, giving as much as I can, drowning her in pleasure.

A sniff followed by a fussing noise comes over the baby monitor.I know that sound.In the next few seconds, it’s going to turn into serious bawling.

I can’t carry my weight on my leg for a second longer.Sweat beads on my skin.The pain is crippling, but the need to get her off before the crying lifts the roof is more pressing.

“Come for me,” I say, sitting down on the bench behind me and pulling Anya with me.

She straddles me and takes what she needs, guiding my hand between her legs where we’re joined.I rub her clit the way she likes me to when she rides my cock.Lowering my head, I taste a nipple.I love how the tip hardens on my tongue.

“I’m close,” she says, her breathing shallow.

It’s my cue to let go.When her inner walls clamp down on my shaft, I let her climax trigger mine.We go over together, my infertile seed filling her body with no other purpose than to mark her as mine.Even though it’s temporary.

Claire starts crying in earnest.

Anya scrambles off my lap, my release leaking down the insides of her thighs.She grabs a wad of tissues and cleans herself before wiping her hands on a disinfectant wipe.Her actions are jerky and anxious.

“Livy—” I start.

“Is passed out drunk.”She hurriedly pulls on a pair of panties.“Claire is my responsibility.”

I lift my ass to adjust my jeans, the endorphins of coming not making me feel as if I’m in seventh heaven.Instead, I feel like a jerk for not going to Claire, but Anya is already rushing from the dressing room.

A moment later, her voice comes through the monitor.“There, sweetheart.Mommy’s here.”

The crying turns to pitiful hiccups.

“Are you hungry?Poor darling.”

Anya is good with Claire, as I knew she’d be.

For a crazy moment, I’m jealous of their moment, jealous enough to pick up my crutches and to wince my way to the nursery.I stop in the door frame, not daring to step over the threshold.

Anya sits in the rocking chair with Claire on her breast, a blanket wrapped around the tiny bundle.Claire makes greedy little noises as she sucks.She’s grown a cute layer of strawberry-blond hair.Her minuscule hand is wrapped around Anya’s finger.Anya chuckles as she stares at her daughter with a soft smile on her lips.

I stand stock still, afraid to breathe lest I disturb the image.It’s the most beautiful picture I’ve seen, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t rip my heart from my chest.

“She’s just gone four hours between feeds,” Anya says with pride, not looking at me.

It’s a good thing too, because I can’t stop the emotions churning in my gut from showing on my face.Knowing I’ll never be a part of the picture damn well nearly kills me.But it will be unfair to terrorize a baby with the face of a monster when that face is only temporary.It will be cruel to let Anya love me when I can’t be here for her forever.Because the only way of slaying Raphael and keeping my girls safe is by setting a trap, and the only bait he’ll go for is me.

I won’t walk out of the carnage alive a second time.It’s a small price to pay if the prize isthis—this perfect scene, the girls who mean the most to me.I can’t give Anya what she wants, but I can give her a safer world in which to raise Claire.

Anya lifts her head.Our gazes connect.

“Would you like to hold her?”she asks, hopeful, soft, and her voice already vulnerable with the fear of the rejection.

“She seems hungry.You better let her finish.”

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