Page 36 of Unleashed (Dark Sovereign #11)

EVERLY

It’s strange how quiet the Del Rossa mansion can feel.

For a house full of men who thrive on blood and violence, there are pockets of peace.

Isaia’s bedroom is one of them. The moment I step inside, the world narrows, softens.

The air smells like his cologne and leather, the walls feel warmer, safer.

After Molly’s rescue, he wanted to pack and leave all this behind.

Italy…that’s where he wants to take me, where he wants to raise our family.

And I want that, too. What I don’t want is him regretting it.

I don’t want him to wake up one morning, stare into the eyes of his son or daughter, and realize that he not only gave up his own legacy, but theirs, too.

So, we decided to wait until the baby’s born. If, after we hold our baby for the first time, we still feel it’s something we need to do, we’ll make that decision together. Alexius already gave us his blessing if that’s what we need to do.

But for now, we’re living here in his family home, taking each day as it comes. Molly’s been living here, too. The Del Rossa family has graciously offered to pay all her medical bills, including the surgery needed to restore her lips. I’ve also managed to persuade her to stay until the baby’s born.

I love having her here. She’s the fresh air I need when this house becomes too thick, too laced with Del Rossa authority. It’s easy for five Dark Sovereign men to suck all the air out of a room.

Of course, she loves it here. Her and Mira? They get along like a house on fire.

I sink back onto the bed with a sigh, one hand instinctively going to the swell of my stomach.

Thirty-four weeks. My belly feels massive, heavy, stretched tight.

My breasts ache. Pregnancy has changed my body in every way possible, but it’s also rewired me.

I’m always hungry, always aching, always wet.

For him. Only him. My man has hardly managed one night of decent sleep with a wife constantly craving his body, his cock… his cum.

I bite my thumbnail, thinking of all the times he came, how the sight of his cum on my body, the taste of it on my tongue, the feel of it inside me stirs an intoxicating sense of desire within me. A primal link connecting our bodies, our souls. He was right. I am his little cum slut.

Heat blooms low and deep just as the door clicks shut, and Isaia steps inside like the air itself bends for him.

My lungs lock. I can’t stop staring—broad shoulders stretching his shirt, the sharp cut of his jaw shadowed in dark stubble, veins raised in his forearms like maps of violence and control.

My pulse skips, my thighs press together, and I know he sees it.

His smirk is slow, devastating. “Christ, Everly. You’re looking at me like you’re about to strip me with your teeth.”

I lick my lips. “Maybe I am.”

He doesn’t hurry. He never hurries. Isaia moves like he’s got all the time in the world, and somehow that makes me more desperate. He slides his jacket off, tossing it across a chair, his gaze never leaving me. The weight of it pins me where I sit.

His eyes drop to my belly, round and high beneath the silk of my nightdress. For a breath, everything sharp about him softens. His palm finds my ankle, warm and steady, then drags slowly up my calf, his thumb circling behind my knee. My body shivers at the small act of possession.

“Fuck, I love you pregnant.” His hand presses wide over the swell, protective and possessive all at once. “I might keep you pregnant, breed you over and over again.”

A shiver rockets down my spine, heat pooling deep inside me.

He lowers, lips brushing the thin silk stretched over me, kissing slow and soft, as if he’s kneeling at an altar. “My baby’s in here,” he whispers against my skin. “And you still ache for me.”

My breath stutters. “Isaia…”

“Shh.” Another kiss, lower this time. Another. Then his tongue flicks the fabric, and my entire body jerks. His voice drops, husky. “Still craving my cock like it’s air.”

Desire spikes through me, pooling between my legs. My breath hitches. “You like it.”

“Like it?” His laugh is sharp, almost cruel. “I go insane for it.”

I gasp when he nudges the hem of my nightdress higher, baring my thighs, leaving me trembling.

His mouth trails a path upward, not rushed, lingering—an excruciating, beautiful tease.

He pauses at the underside of my breast, his lips brushing the sensitive swell before his tongue circles my nipple. I cry out softly.

He looks up at me, fire already burning in his eyes. “Your breasts are so full. Heavy. They ache, don’t they?”

“Yes…” I whisper, my chest heaving.

He slips the fabric over my head and off. The warmth of his mouth is on me, licking the swell of my breast, and I gasp when he latches on, sucking slow and firm until pleasure shoots straight between my legs. His teeth graze, then his tongue soothes, and I arch into him, keening.

“Isaia…”

He looks up at me with fire in his eyes. “Fuck. These tits. Full of milk. Heavy for me. You leaking yet, baby?” He bites gently, then soothes with his tongue. “You want me to drink from you?”

I whimper, rolling my hips, searching for him.

He grabs my chin, forces me to meet his gaze. “Don’t hide it from me. You love that I want you like this. Pregnant. Ripe. You love that I worship you like this.”

“I do,” I whisper.

He smirks, dark and certain. “Good girl.” His thumb presses across my nipple, squeezing until I gasp again, and he dips back to lave me with his tongue.

The pace is deliberate. Drawn out. He kisses every inch of my swollen breasts, the underside, the valley, the sensitive peaks.

Then he moves lower again, over the swell of my belly, pressing his lips, whispering words I can barely hear but feel all the way in my bones.

His reverence has me trembling, my body already begging for more even though he hasn’t given it yet.

His fingers curl beneath the lace edge of my panties, and he kisses me there—a gentle brush of lips over the lace, and my legs quiver as he drags the thin fabric down my thighs until they catch at my ankles.

My panties hit the floor, and his fingers brush against my sensitive pussy.

His gaze flits to my face, to the neediness swirling in my eyes.

"Open," he orders, the baritone thrum of his voice sinking deep into me and forcing a shudder through my limbs. I obey him without question, spreading my thighs wider, the air instantly hitting my heat and making me shudder.

That first lick is a revelation. I moan, my back arching off the bed.

His tongue is confident, sure, as it strokes a path through slick folds.

It flicks over my clit in a way that has me biting my lip to keep from screaming out.

Isaia looks up from between my legs, his eyes dark with lust. “I fucking love that your pussy craves me, that the need for my cock controls you.”

I moan, writhing, needing more.

“I love that it hurts,” he rasps, moving, licking a trail over my belly, between my breasts. “The idea of you in pain when my cock’s not inside you.”

“Fuck,” I moan, pressing my thighs together, needing relief.

“You, little troublemaker, are going to show me just how badly you need me.”

My pulse leaps. I brace to climb into his lap, but Isaia shakes his head, catching my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Not like that. On your knees.”

My breath stutters.

“Now, baby girl.” His tone leaves no room for argument. It never does.

The floor is cool under my knees as I sink down, my belly pulling me forward until I’m kneeling right between his spread thighs.

He unbuttons his shirt slowly, each flick of his wrist deliberate, his cock already straining against his trousers.

I can’t stop staring. My hormones, my hunger—they make me desperate. I want his taste on my tongue.

“You look so fucking good like this.” His thumb drags across my lower lip. “Pregnant, swollen, aching for me.” His voice dips, dark and feral. “Open your mouth.”

I obey, lips parting, tongue peeking out.

“That’s it. My perfect little cocksucker.” He undoes his zipper, frees himself, thick and heavy and flushed. He strokes once, slow, then slides the head across my lips, smearing precum on my mouth like a brand. “Suck me.”

I wrap my lips around him and moan, the taste of salt and him spreading across my tongue. His hand fists in my hair immediately, guiding me deeper, controlling the pace.

“Fuck, yes. Look at you. My pregnant wife on her knees, mouth stretched around my cock.” His hips roll, shallow thrusts hitting the back of my throat. “Take it deeper. Gag on me.”

I choke, saliva spilling down my chin, but it only makes him groan, low and guttural. He holds me there, just long enough for my lungs to burn, then eases back, his cock glistening, my lips raw.

“You look ruined,” he rasps. “So fucking beautiful, swollen belly, tits heavy, mouth dripping for me.” He guides me again, relentless.

“Your pussy’s probably soaking the floor already, isn’t it?

Pregnant little slut, dripping just from sucking me.

” He drags my head down hard, his cock hitting deep, and I gag again, tears streaming down my cheeks.

His grip eases, thumb stroking my jaw. “Good girl. My perfect girl. You love this. You love being bred, swollen, on your knees for me.”

I moan, and it vibrates around his cock.

He sucks air through his teeth, and an electric current tears straight down to my core.

Abruptly, his hand is in my hair, pulling me off him. “This morning I gave my cum to your mouth. Tonight it’s your body’s turn.”

Before I can speak, he drags me up, spinning us so he drops into the chaise by the window.

“You want my cock? Then take it.” I straddle him, my belly brushing his chest, my breasts heavy and aching.

His hands cup them, squeezing, thumbs flicking over swollen nipples. I cry out, grinding against him.

“Look at you. So full of me, and you’re going to take even more.” He lines himself up, and I lower myself slowly, gasping as the head breaches, then sliding down inch by thick inch until he’s buried inside me. My pussy clenches so hard, tears sting my eyes.

“Fuck,” Isaia snarls, his head falling back. “God, baby. You’re so fucking tight. Like your pussy doesn’t ever want to let me go.”

I grind, circling my hips, finding the angle that makes pleasure spike through me.

“That’s it,” he pants, gripping my hips. “Ride me. Fuck yourself on me. Show me how bad you need my cock.”

I start moving, hips rolling, thighs straining, and his hands grip my ass, lifting me, helping me ride him.

He hauls me closer, suckles my nipple again, biting harder now, until I cry out. “You like that?” he growls.

“Yes.”

“You want me to suck these tits while you fuck my cock?”

“Yes!”

He smirks, pure sin. “Then ride me, baby. Take my cock like the perfect little cum-hungry slut you are.”

I throw my head back, lips parting on a moan as the pleasure surges within me. My hands grind into his taut shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscles as I rise and fall, letting his cock fill and stretch me in all the right ways.

“Look at you,” he growls. “Pregnant. Glowing. Mine. You’re gonna keep my cock inside you forever. I’m gonna keep you full. Keep you round. I’ll never stop filling you.”

"Yes," I gasp, the motion making my head spin. "Isaia…" He’s everywhere. On my lips, in my mouth. In my hands, between my legs. His skin flushes red, veins stark against the onslaught of pleasure.

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you love being full of my cum.”

“I love it,” I pant. “I love your cum. I love when you fill me.”

He leans back, slides his thumb across my lower lip as he grins, satisfied and dark. “That’s my dirty girl. Begging for my seed.” Then he grips my ass, lifting me higher, driving himself deeper inside.

“Bounce on me, baby. Show me how much you love my cock.”

I do, slamming down on him, moaning so loud I don’t care if the whole damn house hears.

He snarls, “Good. Fucking. Girl.”

I ride him harder, desperate, lost in the filth of his words, the possession in his voice. With my hands braced against his chest, I grind down, finding that sweet spot where his body meets mine, getting that friction I need against my clit.

A whimper slips from my lips at the contact, my body gyrating in a wild dance of pleasure, craving more, needing more. His fingers trail down to the aching bud, applying just the right pressure to send waves of sensations spiraling up my spine.

“God, Isaia…” is all I can manage.

“Christ,” he groans. “Look at you. Belly round. Tits full. Dripping. You’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

My body tenses, pleasure coiling, building, cresting, and I dig my nails into his chest.

He hisses, one hand sliding up to squeeze my throat lightly, not choking, just claiming. “I’m gonna pump you so full you’ll never stop dripping. You want that?”

“Fuck, yes.” I ride him harder, desperate, lost in the filth of his words, the possession in his voice.

“Come for me, Everly,” he growls. “Milk my cock. Show me how much you love being bred by me.”

His words detonate inside me. I shatter, screaming his name, pussy spasming around him.

Isaia bucks up into me, savage, relentless. “Take it, baby. You take me all in. Don’t waste a drop.”

He slams deep, groaning, and then he’s spilling inside me, hot and thick, pumping me full until it leaks down my thighs. I moan, delirious, as he holds me down on him, grinding, making sure I take every drop.

When it’s over, I collapse against him, trembling, still stuffed with his cock and his cum.

I sag against him, breathless, trembling, still full of him. His hands stroke my back, my hair, but his cock stays buried inside, thick and hard, refusing to let me go.

“There’s no heaven for men like me,” he whispers into my neck, and I hear him inhale me deep.

“When I’m buried and my bones are dust, I’ll still belong to you.

You carry my name, my child, my soul. Anyone who comes for you comes for me.

I don’t forgive. I don’t forget. I end. When the world tests us, baby girl—they won’t survive me. ”

The end.