Page 71 of His Secretly Pregnant Cinderella

“You don’t control everything,” she said.

He growled, making his way over her body, grabbing her wrists and capturing them in one hand, trapping them up over her head, her breasts rising up toward him as he did so.

“I will protect you. Because you are mine. My wife. The mother of my children.”

“And will you tell the world?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice a growl. “Because I will not have anyone thinking that you were ever anyone’s but mine.”

“Constantine.”

She said his name. His name. And on her lips it was like magic. And it ignited a piece of his soul, made him feel alive in a way he never had before.

He was overcome. By the desperate certainty that he would create a new heaven and a new earth all in the name of keeping her safe. Of keeping her with him.

He was powerful, and he had always taken it for granted. She made it feel essential. Because he would use that power, he would use any means necessary to bind her to him.

And he knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He continued to trap her hands as he leaned in and kissed her mouth, pouring all of that intensity into her. He didn’t have the words for it. Nothing but mine. That word echoed inside of him, over and over. Mine. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, down to the soft swell of her breasts, and he sucked her there until she moaned with desire.

He tormented her with his mouth, tormented them both. She was everything. Perfection. The most glorious, delectable treat he had ever tasted. And he was enthralled. He had to have her. He had to.

He thrust inside her then, the tight, wet heat of her body testing his control.

“Mine,” he said. “Mine.”

He claimed her like that, over and over again. Until they were both mindless. And just as her pleasure reached the boiling point, his own unraveled, and they both went over the edge together.

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