Page 190 of The Thief
"They're barely the size of a poppy seed. How can you know they're perfect?"
"Because they're ours. Because they're made from this—" He gestures between us. "From what we have together."
He's right. Whatever else this child inherits from us—his darkness or my stubbornness or the violence that's shaped both our lives; they'll also inherit this love. This fierce, protective, all-consuming connection that makes everything else bearable.
I pull him down to me, needing his weight, his warmth, his complete attention focused on this moment we're sharing.
"I love you," I tell him as he settles between my thighs. "I love you so much it scares me."
"Good," he says, positioning himself at my entrance. "Because you're stuck with me now. Forever."
When he enters me, it's different than before. Slower, more deliberate, like he's trying to memorize every second. His movements are careful, controlled, but there's something almost desperate in the way he holds me.
"So beautiful," he whispers, lips against my throat. "So perfect. My perfect girl."
The praise sends heat spiraling through me. It makes me arch beneath him, seeking more pressure, more contact, more of everything he's offering.
"That's it," he murmurs, adjusting his angle until I'm gasping his name. "Let me see how good you feel. Let me watch you fall apart."
His thumb finds my clit and circles it with just enough pressure to make my vision blur. But when I start to tense, when I can feel my orgasm building, he stops.
"Not yet," he says, voice rough with control. "I want to make this last."
"Freddie, please?—"
"Please what?"
"Don't stop. I need?—"
"I know what you need." His hand moves to my throat, fingers applying the lightest pressure. "Trust me?"
I nod, unable to speak as he starts moving again. The combination of his thumb on my pulse point and his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me makes everything sharper, more intense.
"You're mine," he says, increasing the pressure fractionally. "Completely. Forever."
"Yes," I gasp.
"Say it."
"I'm yours. Completely. Forever."
"And I'm yours. Every dark, damaged part of me belongs to you."
He releases my throat, and the rush of blood makes me dizzy with need. But still he doesn't let me come, pulling back every time I get close.
"Please," I beg, nails digging into his shoulders. "I can't take much more."
"Yes, you can. You're so strong, so perfect. You can take whatever I give you."
The edge of desperation in his voice tells me he's close to losing control himself. That this slow torture is affecting him just as much as it's affecting me.
"Come with me," I whisper. "I want to feel you lose control."
That breaks him. His rhythm falters, becomes erratic, and when his hand returns to my clit, it's with clear intent.
"Come for me," he demands. "Now."
I shatter around him, the orgasm ripping through me with an intensity that makes me cry out his name. He follows seconds later, burying his face in my neck as he spills inside me with a groan that sounds like prayer.
