Page 48 of High Stakes

“Good girl,” Leone praises, his voice husky and thick with desire. It sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my core, arousal dripping down my thighs. “You’re taking us so well.”

I can’t muster up any words in response with his grip so tight; Milo grunts against my neck, his grip on my hips tightening as he picks up his pace. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure surging through me. Each wave higher than the last until I’m teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

Leone thrusts into me simultaneously, and he releases his grip on my throat just long enough for me to draw in a ragged breath before plunging back into me again.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Leone growls, his voice a harsh whisper in my ear. The world fades into an intoxicating blend of pleasure and pain; the two sensations so intertwined that I can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. Each thrust from Milo sends me spiraling further into ecstasy, while Leone’s unyielding invasion of my backside brings me crashing back down to a reality laced with a sweet, piercing ache. I can feel the pressure building deep within me, a tidal wave threatening to crash.

“Wait for us,” Milo instructs, his voice sounding rather strained.

I nod, biting down on my lip to hold back the flood awaiting release as I feel light-headed. But it’s Leone’s thumb circling against my throbbing clit that pushes me over the edge. My body tightens around both men as an orgasm rips through me. Pleasure surges through every nerve ending. It courses through me like molten lava, consuming everything it touches until there’s nothing left but raw satisfaction.

I gasp out a strangled cry while stuttering moans escape from between clenched teeth.

Leone stiffens behind me, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he finds his release. His grip on my hips is bruising, a brand marking me as much as their scent covering my skin. Milo gives a final thrust succumbing to his own climax.

Everything comes crashing down in that moment - the intensity of what we’ve done and the reality of our twisted relationship. But for now, wrapped in the shared heat and passion of these men, nothing else matters.

As I hang limply between them, Leone withdraws from me slowly while Milo follows suit. Both men are careful with their movements, ensuring I am comfortable despite the rough encounter.

“Good girl,” Leone murmurs against my neck, pressing feather-light kisses along my heated skin, making me shiver despite their warmth and the hot water beating against us. My legs feel like jelly as I lean heavily against Leone. His arm wraps around my waist, holding me to him while Milo reaches for the soap.

They take turns washing me, gentle hands gliding over my sensitive skin. They wash away the evidence of our shared pleasure, leaving nothing but lingering sensation and their scent behind. I’m cocooned in a bubble of steamy water, strong arms, and male bodies.

Milo rinses off my body, then steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and disappearing from the bathroom. After a few more minutes under the warm spray, Leone gently guides me out of the shower. He towels me dry with an attentiveness that leaves a warm flush spreading across my cheeks when Milo walks in with one of his shirts and Leone’s track pants. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What, you’ll be more comfortable,” he says, setting them on the sink basin.

Seventeen

Fallon

A few days later

The days pass in a haze of anxiety, each one drawing me closer to the inevitable. My period is coming to an end, and with it, the brief reprieve from Leone’s relentless attempts to impregnate me. I’ve tried to keep my mind occupied, focusing on anything but the dread that gnaws at me, but it’s impossible to ignore the ticking clock. Every time I catch sight of him, I can feel the weight of what’s coming—what he’ll do once my period is over. And now, that day has come.

I sit on the bed, my legs drawn up to my chest, my heart pounding in my ears. The room feels colder than usual, the shadows in the corners darker, more menacing. I can’t shake the feeling of impending doom, like a storm on the horizon that I’m powerless to stop. Leone has left me alone for the past few days, giving me space, but I know it’s only a temporary reprieve. He’s waiting for the right moment, and I know it’s coming soon.

And then, as if summoned by my darkest fears, the door creaks open. Leone steps into the room, his expression unreadable.

“Where is Milo?” I ask, sitting up in bed and scrubbing a hand down my face as I try to wake up.

“Downstairs, we are heading in early; something came up.” He answers as I yawn. Only as I turn my attention to him do I notice. In his hand, he’s holding the one thing I’ve been dreading more than anything—the turkey baster. My blood runs cold at the sight of it, my worst fears materializing before my eyes. I feel a wave of nausea rise in me, and I have to swallow it back down, trying to keep my composure.

He doesn’t say anything at first, he just closes the door behind him and locks it, the sound echoing in the quiet room. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw. He’s not here to talk—he’s here to enforce the deal we made, and he expects me to comply.

“Spread your legs,” he orders, his voice flat, emotionless.

The command sends a shockwave through me, and I feel my body freeze, my mind screaming at me to run, to fight, to do anything but obey. But I can’t move, can’t think. The idea of him impregnating me this way—cold, detached, clinical—fills me with a kind of dread I can’t put into words.

“No,” I whisper.

His eyes narrow, his expression darkening. “What did you say?”

“I said no,” I repeat, louder this time, my voice shaking. “Not like this. I don’t want it like this.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and he takes a step closer, the turkey baster still in his hand. “We have a deal, Fallon. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes. “Not like this,” I plead, my voice breaking. “I don’t want a baby brought into the world like this. I can’t… I can’t do it, Leone.”

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