Page 45 of Surprise Quadruplets for the Mob

“Come for me, Abby.” He wraps his hand around my throat, his fingers gripping me just tight enough to add another layer of pleasure. “Come all over my cock, baby.”

“Yes, Maks.” I close my eyes, giving in to the sensations and letting myself fall over the edge. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his cock throbbing inside me. “You’re so goddamn sexy when you come.”

I gasp, my body spasming and clenching as waves of pleasure crash over me. It feels like I’m floating, weightless and free.

Maks keeps moving, his hips pumping faster and harder as he chases his own release. Finally, with one last groan, he comes, his cock pulsing inside me as his seed fills me up.

He collapses on top of me, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. I can’t move, can’t speak. I can barely breathe. All I can do is lie here in his arms, my body humming with pleasure.

After a few minutes, he rolls onto his back, taking me with him and tucking me against his side. “That was incredible.”

“It was,” I agree, snuggling against him.

We lie there in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

The reality is starting to sink in again. “What are we doing?” I ask after a few minutes.

His brow furrows. “What do you mean? We just had amazing sex. I’m still trying to catch my breath.”

I sigh. “You know that isn’t what I mean. I’m talking about us. This. Our future, if we even have one.”

He’s quiet for a little bit and that fluttery feeling from earlier has turned into a twisted ball of nerves in the pit of my stomach as I wait for him to say something, anything that might give me an inkling of hope.

Or that might give me a sign, once and for all, that we really don’t belong together.

“I don’t know, Abby,” he finally answers, his voice low and husky. “I don’t have all the answers. But I know I want you. None of this works if you don’t trust me, though. I don’t want to drag you into a lifetime of constant worry and fear. That isn’t fair to you or me or the kids.”

I want to tell him it’s too late for that, but I hold that response inside. He’s being honest with me and I don’t want this calm, rational conversation to turn into a fight. I do want some clarity, though.

“The violence is what worries me the most,” I say instead. “Even if you didn’t kill Booker, I know you beat him up. Probably badly. And I know about the other guy, too. The one you were talking about catching and…and torturing. Please don’t try to deny it, Maks.”

His jaw clenches and I wonder for a second if we’re going to have an argument anyway, but he finally takes a long, deep breath and slowly exhales. “That guy—both of those guys—were criminals, Abby. Bad people. Scammers who took money from your foundation and God only knows how many other people. I feel no remorse for beating the shit out of those guys. Zero remorse. I didn’t kill either of them, but if I did?” He turns his head to look me in the eye. “I wouldn’t feel bad about that either. I won’t lose a minute of sleep over scum like that. Not ever.”

I blink. The vehemence in his voice and the fire in his eyes should make me afraid of him, I know it should, but I’m not. And that surprises me.

Do I trust him? Is this why I’m not afraid? Is it that I trust his judgment, his words, that he’s telling the truth? That he won’t hurt anyone innocent?

Does that even matter?

Maybe violence is always bad, no matter what… Or maybe the world isn’t so black and white, and I’ve been living in a different bubble, a differentworldto him and the rules are also different for us.

I don’t know. I really don’t.

All I can say is that when he speaks like this, I’m not afraid. I’m not repelled. I still want him.

And…maybe, yes, I do trust him. I really think I do.

“I guess I can’t argue with your reasoning,” I say quietly. “I don’t like the thought of people getting beaten and killed, though. I don’t… I don’t feel like you’re a bad person, but Maks… I hate the thought of violence in the world. I hate the thought of being involved in any of it.”

“I know,” he says, his hand running up and down my arm, gently rubbing my skin. “I get that, I really do. And that’s part of what’s been keeping me awake at night. I want to be a good man for you, Abby. A good partner. A good father to the babies. But I can’t pretend to be someone else either. This is my life. My world. It’s part of my DNA. And if you accept me for who I am and what I am, if you decide you want to be my woman, just know that I’ll always protect you and the babies with the very last breath in my body. My family is number one in my life. Always.”

Could I be his woman? His girlfriend? His wife?

A mafia wife?

It isn’t a future I’ve ever pictured or ever wanted for myself, but it’s a decision I’ll have to make. He’ll be in the kids’ lives regardless of what I decide to do, but I’m not sure whether that makes my decision easier or harder.

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