Page 129 of Beauty and the Daddy

"Never," he growls, kissing me hard, his tongue sliding against mine, his cock rocking slow and deep inside me. "I live for this. For you falling apart on me."

And I do.

The orgasm rips through me with brutal sweetness, my body clenching around him, pulling him deeper as I cry his name.

My nails rake down his back, my thighs quake against his hips, and I'm gone, undone, shattered into a thousand sparks.

He catches me with his kiss, swallowing my cries, and groans into my mouth as his own release hits.

His thrusts falter, his body shakes, and then he's spilling into me, deep and hot, his teeth catching my lower lip in a soft bite that makes me whimper all over again.

When it's done, he stays inside me, his weight heavy and perfect, his arms caging me in like I'm the only safe thing in his world.

"I'll never touch another woman," he whispers, raw and certain. "You've ruined me for anyone else."

I kiss him back, fierce and trembling, and smile against his mouth.

"Good," I whisper. "Let's ruin each other."

31

BELLE

Six months later, I'm roughly the size and shape of a small planet, and Sofia has zero filter about it.

"Mama, you're blocking the whole hallway," she announces, sliding past me like I'm an inconveniently placed piece of furniture. "The baby made you huge."

Brutal honesty from a seven-year-old.

But she's been calling me "Mama" for months now, so she could tell me I look like a beached whale and I'd still melt into a puddle of maternal goo.

I waddle after her anyway, my hand on my belly.

The little one rolls and kicks as if agreeing with her. Great. Team Sofia versus me is already forming.

The estate doesn't feel like the fortress it used to.

Sure, security's tighter. There are new cameras, new guards, all those little Luca-touches that scream paranoia, but it's not cold anymore.

Laughter lives in the walls.

Sofia's giggles echo off marble floors.

The smell of cookies now replaces the tang of gun oil.

It's… home. My home. And soon the baby's, too.

We've already set up the nursery.

Crib, rocking chair, Luca pretending he knew the difference between "sage green" and "mint."

I keep sneaking in there just to stare at the little socks folded in drawers. The tiny onesies.

Peace is strange, but I'll take it.

I pad down the hall, Meatball and Bruno clattering behind me until they lose interest and collapse in a sunbeam, pawing and playing.

My feet ache, my back aches, basically everything aches, but the second I reach the nursery doorway, the aches ease.