Page 27 of Arranged with Twins

I add a third finger and stretch her carefully while continuing to work her clit with my tongue. She’s so sensitive and flawless, crying out or arching against me with each new burst of pleasure. I want to memorize every sound, every taste, and every way her body responds to mine.

When she’s close and trembling beneath me, I slow down and draw out her pleasure until she’s sobbing my name. “Please.” She twists the sheets between her fists. “I need you inside me. I need your cock.”

The raw need in her voice distracts me from my intention to make this last. Abandoning getting her to orgasm this way, I withdraw my fingers and kiss my way back up her body.

When our faces align, I kiss her again, deeply, while nudging her thighs apart with my knee so I can settle between them.

When our kiss ends, I say, “Look at me. I want to see your eyes when I fill you.”

She meets my gaze as I push inside her slowly, both of us groaning at the sensation. She’s warm and wet around me, and her pussy clings lovingly to my cock. When I’m fully seated, we stay still for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of the connection.

This is more than sex. This is claiming, possessing, and marking each other in ways that go far beyond physical. She’s mine, carrying my children, and the primal satisfaction of that knowledge floods through me.

“You feel so good,” I whisper against her neck. “So sweet wrapped around my cock. You’re mine.”

“Move.” She arches restlessly to encourage me. “Please move.”

I start slowly and savor every sensation and every small sound she makes.

This isn’t the desperate coupling of our previous encounters, previously initiated by anger, because that was the only time I could let my control slip to surrender.

This is worship, reverence, and the physical expression of feelings I’m finally ready to name.

Love. I love this woman. The realization crashes over me as I thrust into her, watching her face transform with pleasure. I love her strength, her fire, and the way she challenges me as she refuses to be controlled. I love that she’s carrying my children, and she’s choosing me despite everything.

She wraps her legs around my waist and takes me deeper, and I have to grit my teeth to maintain control. I want this to last so I can memorize every moment and every expression that crosses her face, but my control is tenuous, especially when she squeezes her pussy around my cock.

“Harder,” she whispers, and I give her what she needs, increasing my pace while watching her climb toward release. “Yes, just like that. Take me harder.”

I reach between us to stroke her clit while I drive into her, making her arch beneath me.

I thrust deeper and my rhythm becomes erratic.

It doesn’t seem to bother her, and she adapts to my intensity and pace.

Soon, we’re both hovering on the edge of orgasm.

“Let go.” I kiss the spot under her ear. “Let me feel you come on my cock.”

When she comes, clenching around me with a cry that’s part surprise and part relief, I follow her over the edge.

I spill my seed inside her while calling out her name.

I’m making her mine in the most primitive way possible.

The spasms last for what feels like forever as we remain joined even after my cock has softened to a softer state.

Eventually, we move as one and turn together, cuddling. We’re both breathing hard and slightly stunned by the intensity of what just happened. I pull her against my side and appreciate this moment, understanding it’s not just physical but an emotional release as well.

“That was...” she starts, then trails off.

“Different.” I finish the thought for her. “Better.”

“Much better.” She traces patterns on my chest with her fingertip. “No anger.”

“Not this time.” I look down at her. “I didn’t need to use anger as an excuse to let go of my control this time.” I press a kiss to the top of her head.

She smiles. “I’d say the same, but honestly, you just have a way of pissing me off sometimes.”

I let out a surprised laugh that sounds a little rusty but feels amazing. “Is that so?” When she nods, I say, “That probably won’t ever change completely.”

“I know.” She doesn’t sound worried about that as she snuggles closer.

Soon enough, she falls asleep in my arms, and I listen to her breathing gradually even out into the rhythm of deep sleep.

I lie awake studying the peaceful expression on her face and return again to the epiphany that struck me when I was inside her.

I’m in love with her. Completely, irrevocably in love with the woman carrying my children, who challenges me, stands up to me, and somehow sees past all my defenses to the man underneath.

The realization should terrify me, since it makes me vulnerable.

Instead, it settles in my chest like a missing piece finding its proper place.

For the first time since my parents died, I have something to live for beyond duty and survival.

I have a future worth fighting for, and her name is Sienna Cooper. Soon to be Sienna Denisov, the mother of my children, and the woman who owns my heart even if she doesn’t know it yet.

The thought of losing her or this makes my chest narrow with fear unlike anything I’ve felt since watching my parents die.

She’s become my weakness and my strength, my greatest vulnerability and my most precious treasure.

The fear of losing her is worth the joy of having her despite my previous vow to myself to never again love anyone enough to be destroyed by losing them after losing my parents.

I tighten my arms around her reflexively. Whatever it takes, I will protect her. I will protect our family because some things are worth more than survival. Some things are worth dying for, and Sienna is everything.