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"What do you need, little human?" His voice is strained, teetering on the edge of control. "Tell me."
"More," I plead, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. "I need more. Deeper. Harder."
Something feral flashes in his eyes. In one fluid motion, he stands, lifting me with him as if I weigh nothing. I cling to him, his cock still buried inside me, as he turns and bends me over his desk. Papers scatter, the inkwell tips—neither of us cares.
He withdraws almost completely before slamming back into me with a force that knocks the breath from my lungs. One hand wraps in my hair, the other grips my hip with bruising intensity.
"This what you need?" he snarls, setting a punishing rhythm that has my breasts bouncing with each thrust. "To be fucked like the greedy little thing you are?"
"Yes!" I cry out, beyond shame, beyond pretense. "Don't stop—please don't stop?—"
Vael leans over me, his powerful chest pressed against my back, his mouth at my ear. "Look at you, so desperate for my cock. Did you think I didn't notice how you've been looking at me? How your nipples harden when I walk into a room?"
Each word is punctuated with a brutal thrust that hits something perfect inside me. I'm reduced to wordless sounds, moans and gasps that seem torn from my throat.
"Answer me," he demands, tugging my hair.
"I couldn't help it," I confess, trembling on the precipice of release. "I need you—need this?—"
His free hand snakes around to rub circles on my clit, tight and precise. "I'm going to fill you up again, Trinity. Fuck you so good you won't walk straight for days."
The dual stimulation—his cock hammering into me from behind, his fingers working my clit—pushes me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me with unexpected force, my inner walls clamping down on him as waves of pleasure radiate outward.
"Fuck, fuck, FUCK," Vael growls, his rhythm faltering as my body milks him. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himselfdeep and erupts, his cock pulsing inside me as he finds his own release.
Before he's even finished, he pulls out. I whimper at the sudden emptiness, but then feel his fingers gathering his release where it drips from me, pushing it back inside with two thick digits.
"You look so fucking good," he growls, voice rough with satisfaction. "Bent over my desk, carrying my children, leaking my cum."
His possessive words send an unexpected aftershock of pleasure through me. I turn my head, catching a glimpse of his face—flushed with exertion, eyes blazing with something that looks dangerously close to adoration.
"Perfect," he murmurs, gentler now, as he continues to stroke me from behind. "So fucking perfect."
And in this moment…it feels like it is.
17
VAEL
Idon't sleep much that night. Trinity's warm body curls against mine, her soft breathing a steady rhythm that should lull me to rest. After spending the afternoon with her, I had to carry her to bed and I couldn't bring myself to leave. Instead, I find myself watching her, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the flutter of her eyelashes against her skin.
She's carrying my children—twins—and the thought sends a primal satisfaction surging through me. I never expected to feel this way about anyone, least of all a human woman who came to me through such circumstances.
But there's something about Trinity that gets under my skin. The way she stood in my study today, demanding what she needed without apology. The fierce independence that burns behind those green eyes even as she softens in my arms.
My hand drifts to her stomach, still flat beneath her nightdress. Somewhere in there, two new lives are forming—my legacy taking shape within her body. She stirs slightly at my touch, murmuring something unintelligible before settling again.
"What am I going to do with you?" I whisper, too softly to wake her.
Because that's the question that keeps me awake. Our arrangement seemed so simple at first—she'd bear my heir, I'd give her freedom. But nothing feels simple anymore. Not when I find myself inventing reasons to be near her, not when I catch myself wondering what it would be like if she stayed.
By her fourth month,Trinity's body begins to change more noticeably. The gentle swell of her belly makes something protective and possessive roar to life inside me. We're in the garden when I first notice her resting her hand there, a subconscious gesture as she examines one of the metallic blooms.
"They're active today," she says without looking up, somehow sensing my approach despite my silent footfalls.
"They can move already?" I ask, closing the distance between us. Without thinking, I place my hand beside hers.
Trinity tenses for a moment—she still does that sometimes, still guards herself—but then relaxes. "Not exactly movement. More like..." She pauses, searching for words. "Like thaliverns. A fluttering sensation."