Page 111 of Born for Silk

And when he starts to shudder and growl, the beast in him rears up with three punishing thrusts that buck yelps through my lips, knock reality from my vision, and show me three seconds of how powerful he can be.

He stays deep, his cock filling and pumping, filling and pumping, the pulses so precise, so powerful that pleasure bursts into my ears and seizes my thighs. And I tremble with my own release at the same time.

I mewl, lost, my body sore and heavy.

He holds my backside up with one hand.

“I'll make it easy then.” His voice is deep, strained, and deliciously satiated. “I'll erase the decades of conditioning. I will own you, body, mind, spirit. You will stay with me. Let me make myself very clear to you, little creature. You are mine. And this”—his hand presses over my womb— “child, is mine. Not The Trade's. Not The Cradle's. Mine!”

If a word could bite, the way he expels ‘mine’ would draw scarlet ribbons from flesh.

Panting, I lay lax on the table, my backside elevated by his hand.

Earlier, when I saw him again, my heart was hot and frantic for him, and I wanted to nurture that warmth. His words feed and nest in just the right place, and I realise, I want to stay with him, but… We cannot.

Can we?

“Everything we do is for The Cradle,” I say, utterly confused, completely spent.

As he slides his cock out, a choked cry burst from me. Being empty of his thick, pulsing pressure throws me into another wave of pleasure, where I’m left spinning and dizzy.

“Oh, my king…”

He lowers my backside, and muscles I didn’t know I had ache with exhaustion.

“That’s a good girl.” He brushes his palm down my spine, and I practically vibration with delight. “I will serve The Cradle. You serve me. Only me. Rest assured that you’re safe. That the men in power, the men you fear, fear me. You will never leave my side. You will never be sent away. You belong to me until the last beat of your heart.”

A trembling breath squeezes from my lungs.

“Say it, Aster. Who do you belong to?”

A happy tear slides to the table. “You, my king.”

“Forever, little creature.”

“Forever, my king.”

Chapter Three

Rome

Cairo’s message from the Half-tower burns a hole in my mind: ‘The Silk Girl is known. Protect the heir.’

It is an entire lecture.

My Silk Girl is pregnant and known. This has not happened in hundreds of years, but we move forward and take hard measures. Aster won’t always like what that means, no more privacy, eyes glued to her, eyes watching the babe grow in her womb… I don’t like it.

Up ahead, the Redwind enters through a gap in The Estate fort, a strategic vent to deter Common.

She walks a step before me along the stone path, her hood pulled up, a mask covering her fragile face, even though she is hidden by my larger body from the aggressive wind and the sly gaze of Trade personnel.

We head toward my wing.

I have a wing where I used to fuck the House Girls—though it has been inactive since the night of the carnival when a little five-foot-two Silk Girl climbed into my lap.

I have a wing for business.

And this wing.