Page 18 of Oops Baby for the Mafia Boss (Oops Baby #1)
MARKOV
I wake to the feel of Emily. In my arms.
We slept together all night, her tucked into me. Her strawberries and cream scent is in my nose. I tighten my arm around her waist.
Emily stirs.
My eyes flick open.
My growl is feral as I roll her underneath me. I grab her hands and tug them above her head, holding them in place with mine. I’m stretched over her.
“Markov, I should get up?—”
I shut her up with a kiss. It’s hard and punishing and I hope tells her very clearly that, no. She should stay right here, with me, in our bed.
My body responds to her closeness and the sweetness of her submission. My expression must be savage when we finally part for air.
Kissing Emily. My god, it’s life.
I’m on top of her. I’m rock-hard, and it only takes a flex of my hips and her legs have opened in welcome. My swollen head is at her entrance.
She’s entirely within my power and we both feel it. She’s soft and tiny and fragile beneath me, and my cock has responded to kissing her with the inevitability of the love and desire I feel for her.
Her pink lips are glistening, and I have a vision of my cock sliding between them as she willingly sucks me down, eyes watering, my hand in her hair, her eagerly trying to take more and more into her throat.
We’re touching all the way down our torsos, her sweet little tits pressed flat by my chest, my hips over hers. I have to say something before I push into her soaking wet heaven.
“I want to get you pregnant again.” I don’t know why that emerges from my mouth.
This is why I avoid talking. I sound like an idiot. Her idiot.
Emotions flicker across Emily’s face. Shock. Desire. Laughter.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” she says, tilting her hips. We’re so close to me just sliding into her.
I press forward and we both groan.
“You already put a baby in me, remember?”
“I’d try.” My cock has a mind of its own, twitching, pressing, desperate to get into her. Closer. Always closer to Emily.
She’s so perfect and I crave her so much I can hardly breathe. She’s here. Finally. The woman I love is in my bed, pregnant with my child, and isn’t objecting as I stealthily push into her body. I can’t be inside her enough, need to claim her in every single way.
I try to go slowly, drawing out the bliss until it’s almost torture.
She’s so important. My whole life now is pleasuring her so thoroughly she’ll never want to leave me.
That she’ll never doubt that she belongs to me, and I to her.
My body urges me to take her harder and faster, to use her body for my own gratification, but I hold back.
“You feel so good,” I rasp. “Hot. Wet. Tight.” I love how soaked she is for me, in particular. How welcome she makes me in her perfect little cunt.
“You make me this way.” She squeaks and hides her face on my shoulder. “I’ve never been like this before.”
“When you touch yourself and thought of me?” It’s not quite a question, and she clenches around my length, nearly tipping me over.
“Did you?” I demand, but I know the answer. She couldn’t have helped the wave of need any more than I could.
Her only response is a whimper.
I take that as a yes, and drive into her again.
It’s hours later, after I’ve worshipped and defiled her over and over, that we finally have breakfast.
We had an unsuccessful first attempt involving her eating strawberries and me devouring her delicious cunt, but now she’s munching toast covered with chocolate spread.
“I was thinking, we should talk about?—”
I tense up.
“Whether I can have my old job back,” she finishes in a rush.
I’m shaking my head, but she continues.
“Since Denis doesn’t work for you anymore, maybe my sacking could be reviewed?”
“You don’t need to work,” I say bluntly.
I don’t add that her job now is to be barefoot and pregnant. Her job is to be protected by me, and find all the ways she can be happy. None of which involves typing numbers into spreadsheets at seven in the morning. Unless that really brings her joy.
“I’d like to, though.”
Fine. I don’t like it, but I’ll listen. “What would you like to do?”
She tugs at the cuffs of my shirt that I got her for while we ate breakfast. “I have a degree in library science.”
“Open a library.”
She laughs, assuming incorrectly that I’m joking. “I was thinking of having my old position back, and maybe I could improve the way the records are dealt with at Mortlake.”
She could have Denis’ job.
“If that’s what you want,” I reply carefully. Is this why people use words? I’d like to just say no, and that would be the end of it, but more than that, I need her to be happy. Preferably with me.
“Great! We can go now once I’ve changed?—”
“No.” This I’m not compromising on. “You’re busy today.”
“What?”
“And so am I.”