Page 180 of Filthy Savage

“How’s our boy doing?” That huskiness sends tingles down my body.

“We don’t know if it’s a boy yet.” My smile widens.

I know he says it doesn’t matter, but he wants a boy after Fia, and I want to give him that.

“You’re right, we don’t. According to the stuff I read, he or she is the size of a blueberry this week.”

I let out a laugh.

Yes, my Mafia husband has been reading all about pregnancy since we found out. I think it’s adorable, which is not at all how everyone else would describe him, but it can be our little secret.

“The doc said we can find out soon with that blood test he mentioned,” he adds.

“Do you wanna find out? Because I kinda want it to be a surprise.”

He laughs. “You and your surprises.” His thick fingers feel so good on my skin. “Whatever you want, baby girl.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” Not being able to see him makes his raspy voice sound so much sexier than it already is.

My core throbs, and it’s like he knows it too, his fingers lowering to my thighs again. My sex drive has been at an all-time high lately, and he definitely read that too and has been taking full advantage.

Grabbing his wrist, I lead him just where I want him.

“Mm. Already wet for me.” His gravelly groan as he rubs my clit has a cry escaping from my lips.

He eases two fingers inside me, curling them while his thumb works me slow, then fast, until I’m ready to explode.

“Not yet, baby. I want you to save that for later.”

I have no idea what he means, but I don’t think I can last in this state through dinner.

“Please,” I beg, needing it so badly.

Instead, he removes his hand while I gasp in protest. And then I notice that the car has stopped.

“Where are we?” I ask as he pulls my blindfold down.

As my vision adjusts to the surroundings, I notice we’re at an industrial brick building, people all around, dressed up in gowns and suits. But that’s not all…

They’re all wearing masks, like those masquerade types. Super fancy.

“What is this place?”

His smirk grows. “It’s a private club. Owned by Konstantin. I heard you ran into him in the hall the other day.”

My eyes expand. “Oh. Him. I probably should’ve mentioned that.”

Nerves pummel in my gut.

“Don’t worry, he did.” He laughs.

“Who is he, exactly? And please don’t lie to me.”

“I have no intention of lying, baby.” Picking up my hand, he holds it in his lap. “He’s the head of the Russian Mob. The Pakhan, as they call it.”

My heart races at the revelation.

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