Page 85 of Her Darkest Possession

"I love it when you fuck me like you own me."

Another orgasm moves through me, stronger than the last. I grab his face between my hands, and force him to look at me as I feel his cock twitching and emptying itself into me.

Our eyes lock, and in that moment of pure vulnerability, I whisper the truth we've both finally embraced:

"I love you."

24

ANATOLY

In the dyinglight of a dull gray day, I stand back and survey the half-painted wall of what will soon be our child's nursery. Indigo and I opted on a light yellow that's neither too bright, nor too pale.

She insisted on doing this ourselves instead of having the staff handle it.

Now, watching her carefully edge along the ceiling in denim overalls with a streak of paint on her cheek, I understand why.

It really feels like we're building something together.

"You missed a spot," she says without looking at me.

"Just admiring the view." I dip my roller back in the paint tray.

She glances over her shoulder, a smile playing at her lips. "Careful. That's how we ended up on the dining table last night."

Heat rushes through me at the memory. Legs wrapped around my waist, plates pushed aside, and her gasping against my ear.

Both of us confessed our love for each other, over and over and over again.

And even then, it didn't feel like it was enough.

"Worth it," I say simply, returning to my section of wall.

Indigo steps down from her ladder and sets her brush aside. "I still can't believe we did that."

"Which part?" I ask. "The table or you telling me that this is the life that we'll live, and that we'll never go backwards from here."

"Both." She comes to stand beside me, leaning her head against my shoulder. "But one definitely felt more enjoyable than the other."

I kiss Indigo's forehead. "Are you excited about what we're in for?"

"I am," she says, and then then after a pause, adds. "But I'm also scared."

I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "We'll figure it out together," I tell her. "And we'll definitely have plenty of help."

This makes her smile. The mansion is fully staffed with people who would do anything for us, and whatever the staff can't handle on their own, we can always hire someone else to help.

But I know the logistics isn't what she's afraid of. It's about getting it right.

About raising a child in the bratva, and accepting that our child's future will always have the specter of violence and death and war hanging over his or her head.

It's not an easy thought.

"There's also something else I've been thinking about."

"What's that?"

"It's probably a silly idea now," she says, looking away.