Page 21

It was funny how time flew when you were happy.

It had been seven months already, and clearly, it was more than enough time for my ruthless mafia husband to snake his way into my heart. I didn't think it was possible to get so comfortable around a man whose presence used to make me tremble in fear.

Over time, his actions and the way he took care of me during my third trimester had softened my heart. It was like I was living with a whole new different person—loving, understanding, patient, and committed. This was the version of my husband that existed at home nowadays.

Despite my reservations, I couldn't help but fall helplessly for this man. He'd proven that he could strike a balance between his work life and family life. When working, my husband was still the same old strict and cruel Bratva boss who terrified his enemies.

But when he was home with me, he was a completely different person: soft, sweet, and amazing.

Our bond had strengthened as the days went by, and the regular sex we had only made things easier, especially for me. My growing belly was never a problem, and I found myself always wanting him, craving him like never before. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but whatever it was, I couldn't help it.

Today, I sat at the dining table, my laptop a beacon of focus amidst the chaos of papers and notes scattered over the smooth, polished surface. My hands cradled my swollen belly, shrouded by the fabric of my loose gown. The baby growing inside me was rapidly changing my body, and these days, my back ached from the added pressure.

My dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail as I worked, staring into the lit screen. Its soft glow illuminated my face, casting a warm light on my determined expression.

It was a bloody tug of war within me, and my attention was split in half. I tried to stay focused on building my business plan, but at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to stop reminiscing about the incredible improvement in our sex life.

My fingers rubbed my tired eyes, and I arched my back, my body aching with exhaustion.

Sex with my husband these days was mind-blowing. We made love—slow, passionate, and easy, considering my condition.

I couldn't get enough of him, and if I was being honest, recently, sex with him hit differently—like super good!

The way he handled me like an egg and pampered me in bed was a clear indication of how much he adored and respected my body. I'd grown accustomed to my husband's possessive hands all over me, his skin against mine and his cock deep inside me.

His kisses were deep and filled with compassion. His every touch ignited a fire in me, a desire that seemed to overwhelm my whole body. Every time we made love, it was like I was losing my mind, and I had never felt such an intense passion before.

From the night of our reconciliation till now, we’d been having constant sex everywhere around the house. In the bathroom, we made love; in the kitchen, we made love, and a few times, he'd fucked me on the balcony late at night as well.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my nipples hardening at the mere thought of the crazy, sometimes nasty, things he'd done to me sexually.

I never imagined having my exit hole licked or eaten, nor had I thought that I would love it as much as I did.

My husband was an expert at pleasing his woman—he was a man with experience. He knew how to use every part of his body to pleasure me and make me feel alive. Erik made a woman out of me, and his touch always catapulted me to places I had never thought possible.

He made me shake like a leaf without even having to try so hard. His touch—fingers, hands, tongue—and, most importantly, his cock all made my body tremble in ecstasy. Every time we were intimate, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of sheer pleasure.

No wonder that old flame of his wanted another taste of him. She knew how great in bed he was and didn't even care that he was married. She just wanted him to fuck her. Honestly, with what I'd enjoyed from my husband recently, I couldn't blame her for wanting more of what she used to get from him. The man was a beast, a love-making machine that could take any woman to cloud nine in a matter of minutes.

It was like he understood the anatomy of women, like he knew the exact places to touch, when to touch, and how to touch said places. To be honest, it was the “how to touch…” that always made me lose my mind.

I leaned back in my chair. My fingers grasped the handle of my coffee cup, lifting it to my mouth. The savory aroma of freshly brewed coffee invaded my senses as I took a sip and set the cup back on the table.

I cracked my knuckles and edged closer to the laptop screen, attempting to concentrate on my work. Thoughts of my husband's cock and how good he made me feel had distracted me for some time now, and I was losing focus.

A soft sigh escaped my lips, and my brows furrowed in concentration, my fingers flying across the keyboard. I was working on some ideas for my brand—something I'd been cooking up within these past few days.

The laptop's screen glowed with a spreadsheet outlining my startup's financial projections. My gaze shifted to the large piece of paper on the table, which displayed a hand-drawn diagram of my business model. I'd included departments, roles, and responsibilities on the diagram.

In my head, I envisioned a small but smart team that could work with me and adapt quickly to the changes in the fashion industry.

My eyes darted to another paper showing a rough prototype design for my flagship clothing line. It was a sustainable, eco-friendly collection that featured modern, feminine silhouettes. My passion for fashion and sustainability shone through in every detail I included in that design, from the choice of fabric to the production methods.

Focused on my laptop screen, my fingers danced across the keyboard, typing out notes and ideas as they flowed to me. Fueled by my determination to make a difference in the fashion industry, I poured my heart and soul into this business plan.

As I sat there, engrossed in work, the atmosphere around me shifted. A presence registered in my peripheral awareness. I felt a prickle at the back of my neck, a sense of being watched, and for the first time, I was aware of his presence—no sudden appearances.

My lips curled into a knowing smile, and I didn't stop working, nor did I act like I knew he was behind me. He always loved to sneak up on me, and I would almost always jump out of my skin, startled. Not this time.

“How long do you intend to stand there for?” I asked without turning to look in his direction, my fingers taking a pause on the keyboard.

“Wow!” he said softly, his voice coming from behind me. His shoes clicked against the floor as he approached. “Someone's learning. I'm impressed.” His tone was amused and glinting. “How'd you know I was standing there?” he asked, his voice dripping with curiosity.

I jerked my head to look up at his face as he towered over me from behind, my cheeks flushing. “I sensed your presence. I can't explain it, but I did. Plus, your cologne gave you away,” I explained, my smile broadening.

He beamed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Your senses are heightened, and you pay more attention to your surroundings. Is that part of the pregnancy, too?” he teased, his hands massaging my shoulders.

I was silent, melting into his relaxing touch, my exhaustion dissipating as his fingers dug into my flesh in a soothing motion. “Hmm.” I let out a soft exhale. “Just what I needed,” came my low whisper as I felt my tension and anxiety gradually easing off.

“You’ve been working so hard these days,” he said, leaning closer, his fingers still working their magic on my shoulders. “You need to take a break, relax, cool off a little.” He paused for a moment, his lips pressed to my neck. “You're in no condition to keep stressing yourself out.”

His low, husky whisper sent shivers down my spine, and his tender touch was so relaxing.

His eyes darted across the papers, sketches, and notes littered over the table. He reached out to pick up the rough prototype design for my flagship clothing line, and his brows arched in astonishment. “This is impressive, Tessa,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration, his eyes locked onto mine. “You're full of surprises, you know.”

My lips curled into a radiant smile, a flutter swelling up in my chest. “Thank you.”

He flashed a faint grin, his hands gently sliding over my shoulders as he leaned forward, his breath fanning against my skin. “You're an amazing woman, Tessa,” he murmured, his hands traveling down to rest on my swollen belly.

His touch was tender—reverent, even—and it stirred up something within me, something emotional. I melted into his touch, craving the comfort, warmth, and security that came with it. My thoughts spiraled at the weight of his hand on my stomach.

I’d yet to understand what Erik had done to me and why I'd become sort of addicted to his touch. This was a man I once loathed; now, I couldn't seem to get enough of him.

What I felt for Erik was beyond sexual connection; it was something much deeper than that, and it scared me, honestly. My feelings were starting to sprawl out of control, and I realized that I wanted more of him. Not just as the father of our unborn child, but as a husband.

The sex was good, and everything seemed like it was okay. Erik's affection and care during my pregnancy had broken my defenses and pulled down the walls I'd built to protect my heart. His invasion was terrifying, and I thought it was too early to start harboring such deep feelings for him.

What I felt was dangerous, but I couldn't help it. The undeniable truth remained that I wanted him—not just physically but also emotionally. With each passing day, the pull grew stronger, and I wasn't sure how to stop—or if I even wanted to.

His hands traveled back to my chest, his palms delicately caressing my swollen breasts.

“Hmm.” A slight moan came forth, my eyes shutting to enjoy the feeling of his hands on my gentle swells.

My breasts were heavy, aching, and I hadn’t realized I needed that massage until he gave it to me. A jolt of sweet pain spread across my body as he took his time to fondle those voluptuous curves of mine. I felt my nipples hardening as his fingers brushed over them, pinching them deliciously.

“You like that?” he asked, whispering in my ear.

I nodded, my muscles relaxing, my stress and tension dissipating with each delicate squeeze. I felt a tingling sensation between my legs, and my thighs brushed against one another in response to his touch.

However, before things could heat up, he released my breasts and kissed my forehead. “You should get some rest.” He gently squeezed my shoulder before vanishing, his footsteps fading away.

A faint scowl flashed across my face, mirroring my disapproval of his sudden withdrawal. However, I figured it was for the best. I was in my third trimester anyway, and he was right. I needed to get some rest; my body was aching terribly already.

I let out a soft sigh, rubbing my tired eyes as one question lingered on my mind.

Did he actually feel the same way I felt, or was it all one-sided?

Was his affection, care, and attention permanent, or was it just for the time being? Would he change back to his old self once the baby was born?

What was my fate in this marriage? I wondered.