Page 20 of Claimed By Rage

But Rage catches my shiver and his smile spreads into a grin. “You like that?”

My eyes widen.Oh, no.I shake my head and swallow the half-load still inside my mouth.

He latches onto the idea, though, still grinning as he collects the spillage from my chin onto his finger and crudely scrapes it back onto the tip of his cock. “Does the memory of my cumwarming you up make you hot?” He holds the base of his shaft while I stare at the cream meant for me. “Or is it the thought of my baby inside of you that you like so much?”

I don’t answer—can’t answer—because I’m frozen shut. My heart, my lungs, all of it shutting down at the mention of a baby.

There’s nothing I want more than a beautiful baby of my own.

But there’s nothing more terrifying than having Rage as the father.

Thankfully, he doesn’t press the subject, already tapping the tip of his cock against my lips. “Open up,krosotka, and accept your gift.”

I move mechanically, all of the excitement and tension from earlier disappearing in a heartbeat. Wrapping my lips around him is easy, but swallowing is harder. He rolls his cock around my mouth to get it nice and wet, then squeezes and gives himself one long, final stroke to get as much of his cum into my mouth as possible. A tear slides down my cheek as I obey and swallow, trying not to gag as I feel it sliding down my esophagus.

“Next time, I’ll make a direct deposit. Right here—” He palms my throat lovingly—“orhere.” He presses the flat of his other palm against my stomach, pressing down firmly. A shudder rolls through him, but he keeps his eyes locked on mine the entire time.

There’s a fire in their depths, burning hot enough that it ignites the ache in my soul.

“That wouldn’t be so bad…” he murmurs, brushing his lips over mine, “would it?”

I swallow hard, knowing that if I’m not careful, I’ll give too much away. If Rage finds out that I want a baby, he’ll do everything in his power to give me one.

Of his.

“I don’t want to have children, Rage.” The lie feels like shrapnel burrowing inside my soul, scoring deep enough to bleed eternally. “I’ve never wanted to have children.”

His lips press into a firm line, still close enough that I can feel it. “That’s too bad.”

My exhale rushes from my lungs as soon as Rage pulls back.Thank God.It worked.

“I’m planning on havingmanychildren, and there’s only one woman I’d ever accept as their mother.” Rage’s cock is still out, thickening the longer I stare at it.A weapon. That’s what it is. Threatening to give me everything I’ve ever wanted—at a price.

The scariest part is, if it comes down to either having Rage’s baby or not having a baby at all, I might be willing to pay it.

I might become his after all.

Chapter 7

Celia

Rage leavesme on my knees.

It takes me a few seconds to process his retreat, and by then, Rebel has already lifted me back to my feet. He presses a kiss to my hair and tells me that I didso good, but I barely hear it.

I’m staring across the room as Rage allows a pretty woman in silver glasses and a sexy, scarlet blazer to apply antiseptic to his hands and wrap them tightly in gauze and these long, thin strips of bandages that wind around his knuckles. He bends to her ear and says something, to which she nods and disappears into a back hallway. I wonder if she’s his real girlfriend—if I’m just the side piece he uses to satisfy sexual urges she refuses to indulge.

Maybe they match on a mental level, when all Rage and I feel for one another is physical.

My stomach twists into knots, but I’m not sure why. It’s not like I’mnotbeing tossed between him and his brothers on a daily basis, so why shouldn’t he have someone else on the side?

I’ve got three men lined up and ready to go at a moment’s notice.

That’s what I tell myself as I watch Rage tour the room, shaking hands with well-dressed men in masks, clapping others on the back as he passes, smiling at ladies in sheer dresses andlingerie. “What is he doing?” I ask, following Rebel’s patient lead to a high-top bar backlit with ice blue neon lights. It’s the same on Goliath brought me to, but everything feels different now, like I’m in an alternate dimension. Thatcan’thave been tonight. Can it?

I glance away from the bar to find Rage again. Hecan’tbe working the room. Rage has about as much charisma as a turd left to dry on the asphalt in the middle of a blazing hot summer. Which means,none at all.

Rebel orders us drinks and plops me down on a padded bar stool, swiveling it so that I can’t watch Rage’s reflection in the twenty-foot wide mirror overlooking the bar. He tuts as he slides my dress off my thighs and inspects the red, angry skin across both my kneecaps. “He’s being an ass,” Rebel finally answers.

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