Page 108 of Hell Hath No Fury

Shrugging, I poke his flat stomach as I reply, “So we can role-play pregnant sex.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Pretty sure almost everything is a thing for someone.”

His expression is thoughtful, but then he smiles, motioning for me to come closer. I walk toward him, stopping in front of him only to have him maneuver me so I’m standing in front of him with my back against his chest.

He grips my silk sleep dress in both hands, pulling it up over my head in one go, so now I’m standing in front of the mirror in nothing but my scrap of underwear. I have to work to refrain from trying to cover myself, suddenly self-conscious in the harsh overhead light. “You could’ve at least dimmed the lights,” I say in what I can only hope is a playful tone.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” His words are quiet, his gaze locked with mine in the mirror as his hands stroke my breasts and then down my stomach and back up again.

“That’s because you don’t remem—“

He immediately cuts me off. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Lil.”

Pressing my lips together, I give him my most innocent look, but I don’t say anything in response. I’ve managed to take care of myself well over the years, but after three pregnancies and several decades, there’s no way for me to even pretend to be much younger than I truly am. Not that I typically even think about it, but with Antonio, occasionally, small insecurities manage to bubble to the surface.

Tightening his hold on me, he presses both palms against the gentle curve of my stomach. “I understand the allure of watching a woman grow with one’s child. That sense of deep satisfaction is the natural biological response that pushes reproduction.”

“So, you would’ve liked to have experienced that yourself?”

He’s quiet for a moment, his hands caressing and massaging every part of me he can touch. But he’s still looking into my eyes, watching me. “Only if I could’ve had it with you.”

A faint smile curves my lips, and I rest my head on his shoulder, allowing myself to enjoy his attention for what it truly is: love and worship.

“Now,” he says gruffly against my ear. “Breeding, on the other hand, is a concept I can absolutely get behind.”

I’m momentarily stunned into silence, but I soon recover, giggling at the excitement reflected on his face in the mirror. “That’s kind of not an even remote possibility.”

He bites my earlobe, then licks my neck. “Doesn’t have to be possible to get off on it.”

A shudder rolls over me at his words and the dark desire shining in his eyes. “Is that what you want? To fill me up?”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes against my neck, his hard dick pressing into my ass rhythmically. “I want to come in you until it overflows.”

My insides clench, and I raise my arm above my head, gripping the back of his neck firmly, pulling him impossibly closer. His lips trail down my neck to my shoulder, and I watch his hands caressing my body through half-closed eyes.

Then his mouth is by my ear again, his breath hot as he asks, “Is that what you want, love?”

Gasping, I clutch at him, willing the hand pressed against my stomach lower, but he freezes, obviously waiting for an answer. “Yes. Please.”

“Please. Yes. What?” he drawls, his wicked chuckle a sweet vibration against the sensitive skin of my neck.

I shiver, my hips flexing instinctively as deep yearning washed over me. “I want that.”

“Want what?”

Frustration has me twitching, his hands and lips once again actively torturing me. I attempt to respond, but the words get caught in my throat, so all I manage is a garbled whine that hashim chuckling again. “Come on, love. You can do better than that.”

My eyes meet his in the mirror, the heated triumph burning in his, setting off that sweet power he can initiate. Spinning around, I push away from him, my lips curving up as I eye him hungrily. He steps back, meeting my gaze head-on, the challenge reflected in his eyes, pushing me to action.

Pressing my hands against his chest, I give him a shove, knocking him back a few feet. He raises a brow at me, nonplussed by my sudden change in direction, so I shove him again, harder this time.

He raises both hands in front of him, tilting his head as he asks, “What are you doing, love?”

I shove him again. “Taking.” And again. “What.” And again. “I.” And again. “Want.” With a final shove, he falls backward onto the bed, the look on his face a mix of surprise and desire. He braces himself on his elbows, watching me as I slide my underwear down my legs, my fingertips gliding back up until I’m cupping my aching breasts.

I’ve never taken control before, and for a moment, my brain glitches, the past and present suddenly colliding painfully, causing me to frown. His expression shifts to concern, and he starts to sit up, but I raise a hand to stop him. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

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