Page 37 of Tempting Kat (Lust & Luxury #2)

Katarina

I wake up with Conrad's words still echoing in my head. He fell asleep between my thighs, his face pressed against my belly, murmuring to our baby like some kind of possessive caveman. Our baby. Fuck.

I blink, disoriented for a moment until I realize Conrad's no longer between my legs.

Sometime during the night, he moved. Now he's on his back beside me, his massive frame taking up most of the bed.

He's stripped down to just his black boxer briefs, one arm flung above his head, the other resting on his stomach.

My eyes trace the hard lines of his body—the tattoos snaking across his chest, the defined muscles of his abs, the bulge in his underwear. Even in sleep, everything about him screams power and control.

And yet.

There's something vulnerable about him like this. Something that makes my chest ache in a way I'm not ready to examine too closely.

I'm pregnant. With Conrad Gallo's baby. The thought keeps circling in my head like a fucking shark.

I should be terrified. I should be pissed that he basically tricked me into this. I should be running for the hills.

Instead, I'm wet. Soaking wet, actually, with a need so intense it's almost painful.

Before I can overthink it, I'm moving. I straddle his hips, the thin fabric of our underwear the only barrier between us. His body is warm beneath mine, solid and real. I rock against him experimentally, feeling the friction against my clit.

I grind down harder, establishing a rhythm that has my breath coming faster. Conrad doesn't stir, but his body responds. I can feel him hardening beneath me, his cock swelling against the confines of his boxer briefs.

The head of his dick peeks out from the waistband, thick and flushed. My mouth waters at the sight. I reach down, pulling my panties to the side with one hand while the other wraps around his cock, positioning him at my entrance.

“Sorry not sorry,” I mutter, sinking down onto him in one fluid motion.

The stretch is delicious, bordering on too much. I gasp, my walls clenching around him as I adjust to his size. Even half-asleep, he's bigger than any man has a right to be.

I start to move, riding him slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. Each downward thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine.

Beneath me, Conrad's eyes fly open, dark and instantly alert. A growl rumbles through his chest as he realizes what's happening.

“Morning,” I gasp, not slowing my pace.

His hands find my hips, fingers digging into my flesh as he guides me harder, faster. “Fuck, Katarina,” he groans, voice still rough with sleep. “What a way to wake up.”

I lean forward, changing the angle so his cock hits that spot inside me that makes my vision blur. My hands slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle, the raised lines of his tattoos. Then, almost on instinct, my fingers wrap around his throat.

I squeeze—gently at first, testing the waters. His eyes widen, pupils blowing wide with arousal.

“You like that?” I ask, increasing the pressure slightly.

His cock pulses inside me in response. I can feel his pulse hammering against my palms, the corded muscles of his neck flexing beneath my fingers.

“I've been thinking about it,” I say, my voice deadly calm despite the pleasure building inside me. I press harder against his throat, feeling the power rush through me. “Over and over again. You messed with my pills, didn't you?”

His eyes lock with mine, unflinching. He could throw me off him with barely any effort. Could break my hold with a flick of his wrist. But he doesn't. He just lies there, letting me choke him while I ride his cock.

“Didn't you?” I demand, squeezing harder.

His face is flushing now, but not from lack of oxygen—I'm not pressing that hard. It's from arousal, from the thrill of this power exchange.

“Yes,” he says simply, the word vibrating against my palms.

The confirmation sends a shock through my system—rage and lust tangling together until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins. I knew it. I fucking knew it.

“You had no right,” I snarl, my hips never stopping their rhythm.

“I know,” he admits, his voice strained beneath my grip. His hands tighten on my hips, guiding me as I fuck myself on his cock. “Do it harder.”

The request sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I tighten my grip, careful to press on the sides of his neck rather than his windpipe. His eyes roll back slightly, his cock swelling even bigger inside me.

“You fucking like this, don't you?” I accuse, grinding down harder. “Getting choked out by the woman you knocked up without her permission.”

His hands slide up from my hips to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my sensitive nipples. “I like everything you do to me,” he admits, voice raspy from the pressure on his throat. “Even when you're trying to kill me.”

“I'm not trying to kill you. You’ve got a baby to raise with me cause I’m not doing it alone.”

I slam myself down on him harder, increasing my pace as I tighten my grip on his throat. His eyes are dark pools of lust, watching me with that predatory hunger that makes my pussy clench around him.

“I should fucking hate you,” I hiss, grinding my clit against his pelvis with each downward thrust. “Should hate everything about you and what you did.”

His lips curl into that infuriating smirk. “But you don't.”

“No,” I admit, my voice breaking slightly as he hits that perfect spot inside me. “I don't. I fucking love you, you manipulative asshole.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “And I love this wicked little demon spawn of yours growing inside me.”

His cock pulses at my words, growing impossibly harder.

“But make no mistake,” I continue, leaning down so my face is inches from his, my hands still around his throat. “You're going to pay for this for a long fucking time.”

Conrad's laugh is dark and delicious. “Good. I have plenty of money, baby. Make it hurt.”

I release his throat to slap him—not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to sting. His eyes flash with heat, his hands gripping my ass to guide me as I ride him.

“Oh no, not with money,” I snarl, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. “I'm buying everything for the baby with my own money. And you can't spend a single fucking cent on the baby before they're born.”

His expression shifts from aroused to thunderous in an instant. “You can't fucking do that.”

I lean down until my lips are brushing against his, my nipples dragging against his chest. “Watch me, Gallo. There's a new head of household in charge now.”

Before he can argue, I crush my mouth against his, swallowing whatever protests he was about to make. His tongue immediately seeks mine, the kiss turning brutal and possessive.

I release his wrists to tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan into my mouth. His hands immediately grip my hips again, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

“I'm serious,” I gasp when we break for air, my hips never stopping their relentless pace. “My baby, my rules.”

“Our baby,” he growls, thrusting up to meet me. “And we'll see about those rules.”

I feel my orgasm building, that delicious pressure coiling tighter with each stroke of his cock inside me. “Fuck, I'm close.”

Conrad's hand slides between us, his thumb finding my clit with unerring accuracy. He circles it firmly, knowing exactly how I like to be touched.

“Come on my cock, Katarina,” he commands, his voice dropping to that register that makes my whole body shiver. “Show me how much you love me.”

His words send me over the edge, my body convulsing as the orgasm rips through me like a fucking hurricane. I throw my head back, my pussy clenching around his cock in violent pulses as I come harder than I ever have before.

“Fuck, Conrad!” I scream, my nails digging into his chest as my whole body shudders. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He doesn't let up, his thumb still working my clit as I ride out the waves, making the pleasure so intense it borders on pain. My vision blurs, spots dancing behind my eyelids as I gasp for breath.

“That's it, baby,” he growls, his hips snapping up to meet mine.

I collapse onto his chest, my limbs turning to jelly as aftershocks ripple through me. But Conrad's not done. In one swift move, he flips us over, pinning me beneath him without ever pulling out.

“My turn,” he snarls, hooking his arms under my knees and pushing them back toward my chest.

The new angle has him hitting places inside me that make me see stars all over again. I'm still sensitive from my orgasm, every thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through my over-sensitized body.

“Too much,” I gasp, but my traitorous cunt is already getting wetter, clenching around him like it never wants to let go.

“Never enough with you,” he grunts, driving into me with relentless force. His face is a mask of concentration, sweat beading on his forehead as he pounds into me. “Never. Fucking. Enough.”

I reach up to touch his face, tracing the hard line of his jaw with my fingertips. “Come for me,” I whisper, my voice raw from screaming. “Fill me up again, Daddy.”

That does it. His rhythm falters, his cock swelling inside me as he throws his head back with a roar.

“Fuck, Katarina,” he groans, his body shuddering above mine. “You're going to be the death of me.”

He collapses beside me, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him so my back is flush with his chest. His hand splays possessively over my stomach, where our baby is growing.

“So worth it though,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice softening with something that sounds dangerously like tenderness.

“So what happens now?” I ask, my voice raspy from screaming. “We just...become parents? You realize I have no fucking clue what I'm doing, right?”

Conrad's chest rumbles with laughter against my back. “Neither do I, baby. I might have a daughter, but that was over twenty years ago.”

“Well, that's fucking reassuring,” I mutter, but I find myself covering his hand with mine, both of us cradling my still-flat belly. “What about Tessa? How’s she going to feel about this?”

“She'll adjust,” he says with a confidence that both infuriates and reassures me. “She's gonna be shocked; she'll come around. Especially when she sees how happy you make me.”

“Do I?” I ask, hating the vulnerability in my voice. “Make you happy?”

His eyes darken, his hand tightening on my hip. “Happy doesn't begin to cover it, Katarina. You make me fucking insane. You challenge me, fight me, fuck me better than anyone ever has. You've crawled under my skin and into my blood. You’re the fucking air I breathe.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath. I turn in his arms to face him, studying the raw honesty in his eyes. This man—this arrogant, controlling, infuriating man—loves me with an intensity that should terrify me.

Instead, it makes me feel powerful. Wanted. Safe.

“I'm not going to be some perfect little housewife,” I warn him, tracing the outline of the tattoo on his chest. “I'm still going to fight you on everything.”

“I wouldn't want you any other way. A docile Katarina wouldn't be my Katarina. And make no mistake you are mine. Mine to love, mine to fuck, mine to worship. My pretty little obsession.”

Life is hard and messy and unpredictable, but I think I finally found someone who makes living worth it. I’m going to throw it all to the wind and dive headfirst. Into love, into motherhood and whatever else may come my way.