Page 80 of Knocked-up Bratva Bride
I slid my hands between her legs and cupped her, feeling my body shake in tremors of pleasure when her slickness touched my palms. She pressed herself into my hands, rolling her hips for friction, moaning loudly into the desk. Her clit slid back and forth on my palm, but I wanted my cock in its place.
Pulling my hand out, I stationed my cock at her entrance and leaned over her bare back.
“Tell me to stop,” I whispered against her ear, already knowing she wouldn’t.
Thankfully, for the rest of the night, she didn’t.
Epilogue – Elena
The house pulsed with life, laughter, the aroma of vanilla frosting, and the scent of roses.
Every surface in the house gleamed with love. Balloons in soft baby blue and gold floated near the high ceiling, curling ribbons cascading like falling stars.
A massive banner hung proudly across the dining room archway:Happy 1stBirthday, Leo!
It was strung with tiny pictures of his first smile, his first steps, the first time he fell asleep on Damien’s chest, and a special one with me and him under the maple tree beside our bedroom.
I stood near the window for a moment, watching the way the sunlight caught the glittering decorations.
Leo sat in his high chair in the center of the chaos, a tiny gold crown slipping sideways on his fuzzy head.
His cheeks were smeared with cake, and he clapped his hands with the unfiltered joy only babies seemed to know.God, he was beautiful.
I turned to see Damien across the room, one arm lazily slung over Nana’s shoulder as she regaled someone with a story I already knew by heart. Something about how Leo had his eyes, but my stubborn pout. Her voice was warm, proud. She adored him. And it was the most relaxed I’d seen my husband since we started Leo’s birthday plans.
We’d wanted to organize it ourselves instead of farming it out to an event planner. That way, it would be something even more special to remember.
Jasper hovered near the table, trying—and failing—to sneak another piece of the triple-layer chocolate cake without anyone noticing. I caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. He winked.
Typical.
I moved through the crowd, joining my mother to offer drinks, before moving on to hugging well-wishers and brushing crumbs from Leo’s curls.
I felt light, as if my soul had expanded, just from watching my family breathe in joy today. This was home. This was what Damien and I were successfully building against all odds.
This was our story: a forbidden man, who I had learned ruled in the shadows, and the girl who should’ve never been his. But here we were, parents now. Husband and wife. Happy and whole.
Even the air was full of warmth and memory.
A string quartet played softly near the fireplace, and Leo’s laughter carried above the buzz of chatter.
Damien caught my gaze and crossed the room in three long strides. His hand slipped into mine, fingers intertwining with a familiarity that still managed to thrill me.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured into my ear, his lips brushing my temple.
“That’s sweat,” I whispered back. “And frosting.”
He chuckled, and for a second, I leaned into his firm chest, letting the moment hold me.
The sun dipped low, and one by one, the crowd began to thin.
A few of the men lingered on the back patio, sipping wine under twinkling lights strung through the olive trees.
Leo had long since passed out in Nana’s arms, and she rocked him gently in the corner, humming one of Mama’s Spanish lullabies.
And just as I exhaled, just as the peace began to settle over the house like a soft blanket, a knock rattled us. It was late for visitors. Most of our guests had already said their goodbyes.
Damien and I turned toward the door at the same time. He reached it first, muscles tense, instincts on alert. He never quite let his guard down, even on days like this.
