Page 81 of The Heir

"You're so fucking perfect, love. I'm going to fuck my cum into you until you're pregnant. Again and again. I'm going to fill you up every night. You're perfect, and you'remine."

And he's right. I know he's right. I know I'm his. I wouldn't want it any other way.And as soon as he releases my mouth, I'm going to tell him that. For now, though, I settle on mumbling into his fingers and writhing against his frantic thrusts. Every part of me wants more of him. I want him deeper, harder, faster.

I try to tell him, but he just smirks. He smirks and ratchets up his pace. A bead of sweat falls down his perfect nose and drips onto my heaving chest. I don't care about that, either. I know he's getting close—and so am I. My muscles tense, and that familiar heat builds up again.

"You want it, love? Do you want my cum?"

All I can do is nod emphatically.

"Fucking take it, my good girl. Fucking take my cum—" He cuts himself off with a deep, rumbling groan. My orgasm hits me like a freight train, and I moan wordlessly into his hand when I feel myself clamp down around him.

The warmth of his cum is immediate. The slippery, sticky feeling drips down my thighs with his slowingthrusts. He slips a finger between my teeth and lets me bite down on him as I ride wave after wave of ecstasy.

As soon as I loosen my bite, he releases me, and I flop boneless onto the bed. He gently extracts himself, keeping a keen eye on my pussy.

"What are you—"

"Hush, love. I'm putting this where it needs to be."

Popping up onto my elbows, I watch him gently gather the fallen cum and cup it back into my cunt. He gives me a devilish wink.

"There, see? Now, come here." He lies down beside me with open arms, and I curl up into his embrace.

This is my life. This is my perfect husband. We have a happy family, and I'mthoroughlysatisfied.

"I love you, Melody," he whispers. His vibrant green eyes crinkle as he smiles down at me.

"I love you, too."

I'm his. He's mine. And I'll kill anyone who gets in our way.

The twins are still sound asleep with Auntie Helena. The sun just barely illuminates our room, and Dante shifts in the bed next to me. He lets out a contented sigh, throwing his arm over myshoulder.

"Hey," I whisper.

"Hey, yourself," he grumbles back.

"Do you wanna go to the beach?"

His arm tenses around me. "Not really."

Wriggling my way closer, I rest his head on my chest and gently kiss his jet black hair. "I distracted you yesterday."

"I needed distracting, love."

I silently nod. He did. And I'm happy to be that distraction. But Roman is dead. Roman and his weirdo sister are dead. Ella is dead. Everyone who could hurt us—really hurt us, I mean—is dead. And I want my husband to enjoy everything life has to offer. Me, the beach, fancy drinks out of a coconut, our kids, our future kids….

Everything. I want the world for him. And I feel like we're on the edge of that, as he hoists himself out of bed with a sigh. I follow along, smiling to myself, as I wrap a silk robe around my shoulders. There's no one on the beach at this hour—just a few fisherman heading out to their boats for the day. A brisk breeze flutters through my robe, and Dante instinctively pulls me close.

The condo building is directly on the beach. We just had to open our door, and we're on sand. Gentle waves lap at the shore while pelicans fly overhead. Dante's arm tenses around me as we walk closer to the water.His breathing picks up, and I watch him intently as he casts his gaze up and down the beach.

"Hey." I nudge him. "You're okay, babe. I know it doesn't feel like it. I know it's scary. But I'm proud of you, and I'm so proud ofus."

He lets out a shuddering sigh. "I am, too."

My husband falls silent, but I feel his arm relax. A heaviness lifts itself from my chest. I'm not weighed down by the people we've lost; I'm uplifted by them. By our fallen comrades. By the friends who are still here. By the love of my husband. By the fierce adoration for our children.

We're safe. We'reus.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.