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“Yes,” I try to hold back from just thrusting. I know that won’t work. Distraction. That’s what I need. “Tell me...” I wet my lips, her eyes flicking down to the motion. “Tell me what it feels like when I come to your room at night.”

She gives me a slow, surprised blink, stroking me carefully. “The first two times were terrifying,” she admits, “I just didn’t know what to expect–or frankly, that you were even coming. But last night, Pace gave me a heads up, and I was more prepared.” Her motions are steady, precise, and my balls ache with so much desire that my hands curl into fists against the table. “You come in aggressive. Wild. Hair down, eyes all black and glassy. You seem awake, but also…” She looks at me, tilting her head. “But also, you seem different. Less… in control. And very, very focused on fucking me.”

Her thumb strokes the ridge that lines my cock and a shiver runs down my spine.

“But it’s more than fucking,” she says, and there’s a glint of trepidation in her eyes. I’m not sure why until she explains, “It’s almost like... you want to get me pregnant. You want to plant your seed in me—your baby.”

I suck in a sharp hiss as my cock suddenly begins to thicken, jaw going tight at the thought of it. Maybe I’ll think to be embarrassed about that later, but right now, I dip down to lick into the seam of her lips, pushing a whisper onto her tongue. “And you like it?”

“My body reacts,” she says, licking me back, her whole body arching up to seek me. “I get wet, and there’s like, an ache. A feeling that I can’t wait for you to get inside.”

“Fuck.” Panting, I look down to watch as a surge of clear precum dribbles across my cockhead, followed by the pump of blood to my balls. Her thumb rolls over the sticky fluid and my cock twitches, ready to bust.Not yet.

“Is that what you really want?” I ask, flattening my hand over her stomach. The thought of my seed growing inside of her pools liquid, animalistic heat right into the base of my spine. “Do you want my baby inside?”

Her green eyes hold mine, barely a beat for her to think about it before confessing, “More than anything.” My eyes are on her face, searching for lies, but all I see is sincerity. “Sometimes when I’m alone in bed looking up at that big, ornate ceiling, or down in the solarium, digging in the dirt, I try to bring the idea to life.” She strokes me a little harder this time and I grip the edge of the table, teeth clenched. “I think about what it would feel like to be pregnant, to be full with child, to carry the heir.”

It’s the image of it, of her swollen belly, that does it. My hips rock like I’ve been struck by a bolt of lightning, cum shooting across the ridge of Verity’s fist. “Fuck,” I groan, a surge of emotions running though me; release, humiliation, panic. Panic wins and I snap, “Don’t waste it!”

Swiping the cum off her hand with my fingers, Verity falls back, spreading her legs. Frantically, I push the semen inside, pumping it in as deep as I can get it. “Keep your hips up! Give it a chance to get in there.”

She’s fuckingdrippingwet.

“Are you mad?” she gasps, pelvis raised. “I shouldn’t have–”

“I’m not mad,” I lie, taking a deep breath. I have three fingers burying my seed into her soaked cunt and all I can think about is how it should have been my cock that put it there. Why does this have to be so fucking hard? My parts go with her parts. This is a basic biological imperative. Put it in, fertilize the egg.

Jesus Christ.

This anger isn’t for her. I tell myself this as I pull away, stuffing my cock back into my pants. “That was—you were—you did good,” I stutter.

And fuck me if her eyes don’t sparkle at the praise, color coming to her cheeks as she sinks her teeth into her lip. “Yeah?” At my scowl, she lets out this little chuckle, closing her knees. “So... maybe we can try again sometime?”

“Maybe,” I agree, yanking some paper towels from the wall dispenser.

Maybe. If I can come to terms with that fact that Verity just found the key to making my dick hard.

25

Verity

The strangest thingabout all of this is how, sometimes in the middle of the day, when things are tense and stressful, I get a craving.

For Pace’s cock.

Gruffly, he murmurs, “You’ve gotten good at this, Rosilocks,” and massages my jaw.

The message came across my phone minutes after I got home from Family Dinner.

Pace: Midnight.

Princess: I’ll be there.

Pace: No. Your room.

Well, that was new.

I get biology. Sexual attraction. I even understand conditioning. Is that what it is? These men have conditioned me to want them? To crave their bodies so I can find my own pleasure? It feels like it because there’s something that happens to me now when I’m near them.