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“Today, we’ll start our prenatal examinations.” I step closer and turn on the lamp that hangs over the bed. “I’ll withdraw blood to check for hCG levels and perform a full-body exam. Along with a transvaginal ultrasound, we should be able to get a better timeline to approximate conception.” A laugh bubbles in her chest, and she does nothing to hide it. I pause. “Something funny?”

Her soft tits bounce as she adjusts. “That you think you can pinpoint which one of you is the father is absolutely hysterical.”

“I’m not trying to determine paternity—not yet. We need to have a baseline so we can assess your progress. Confirm the fetus’ growth to make sure he’s healthy.”

“He?” She rolls her eyes, the muscles in her thighs tensing as her legs squeeze together. “Of course, you think it’s a ‘he.’”

I scoff. “You’d prefer a female enter this gene pool? Look how it’s worked out for you. Chances are, this one couldn’t be kept a secret for twenty years.” I grab the rubber tubing. “Arm.”

She sticks it out, and I wrap the tubing around her bicep. Her nipples are peaked, hard and tight. Her tits are a nice size, and a thought bobs up to the surface of my mind unwillingly.

I wonder how big they’ll get when she hits the second trimester.

Or—I swallow—when she’s nursing?

I take two vials of blood and cap the ends, writing her details on the sticker on the side. “It’s early. Most doctors wouldn’t even test you yet, but I’ve been monitoring you closely enough. We’re looking for a hCG range of five to four-twenty.” I place the tubes in the refrigerator and come back to the table. “Put your legs up,” I instruct, adjusting the light. “I’m going to check your cervix before the ultrasound.”

There’s another beat of hesitation; her muscles tense as she stares straight up at the ceiling. “What does that mean?” Her voice is high and tight, and my hand clenches around the speculum.

“I’m going to examine you,” I say like it isn’t obvious. “It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

She squirms, knees pressed together. “Are you going to…”

Impatiently, I snap, “What?”

“Are you going to make it hurt?”

Fuck, but I could.

I could strap her down again. Spread her so wide that the tendons in her thighs strain. Dig my fingers into the soft give of her womanly hips and spear my cock right through her. I could fuck her hard and fast and dirty—the way I’ve wanted to for two goddamn months.

But that’s part of what got me into this mess.

Giving in.

Letting go.

“No more than it should,” is my answer, even though it’s a physical pang to give it. When I tap her knee, she relents, and although the motions are stilted and unsure, she places each heel in the stirrups, giving me full dominion over what’s between them.

Her pussy is the sweetest thing.

It’s all pink and tight, her lips parted for me like a perverse invitation.

It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I’ve been knuckle-deep in this cunt a dozen times, probably. This is the first time I’ve felt the sudden rush of blood to my cock, though. In the amount of time it takes me to slick two fingers and slide them inside, it’s fucking throbbing.

I fix my stare on a cluster of three freckles on her inner thigh as I go through the motions. That’s what they have to be. Detached mechanics. If she caught one inkling of the fact my body is back to working condition, that it wants her bad enough to be sitting on this stool with a raging erection, she could use it against me.

Shecould.

It’s the hard truth I face as I get up to turn out the lights, wheeling the monitor closer and readying the transducer.

As I’m applying the gel, she says, “You were bluffing.” When I glance up, she’s watching me back, fingers lacing and unlacing anxiously on her abdomen. “You never sent that video to my mother.”

“And do you that favor?” I ask, giving her a dry smile as I insert the transducer.

Her palms drop to the table, fingers digging into the thin paper. “Favor? How would that have been—”

Pointedly, I flick on the monitor, adjusting the wand. “All you Forsyth chicks are so naive. You think Princesses are kept in line with gifts and wealth and luxury. You think he controls you by giving you what you want.” Smiling bitterly, I turn to the image on the screen, the static blobs shifting. “But that's not how he does it, you see. He does it by threatening you with things you don't want. Things that horrify you so much, you'd give anything—anything…” I snatch the words back before they can emerge, thoughts of my brothers swirling around in my head.