Page 76 of Coerced Kiss

Studying my face, he dips his finger lower and curls the digit. I moan as need pulses in my core. I want him to fill me. I need the stretch.

I lean into the touch, seeking more friction. “Sav.”

“Damn right,” he says in a guttural voice. “I’m the one who makes you come. I alone and no one else.”

When he parts my folds and slides the length of his finger inside me, the pleasure is so intense that my backside lifts off the seat. He keeps his finger still, not pumping like I expected but stretching me while massaging my clit with the pad of a finger. It only takes a second before I break apart, coming so hard that every muscle in my body locks into place.

“Fuck, Anya.” He rests our foreheads together, breathing as hard as I am. “You’ll fucking kill me.”

I think he just did. I think I died. For the first time, I understand why they call itla petite mort. I must be dead if I’m no longer thinking and acting rationally. I’ve never been impulsive.

He doesn’t let go immediately. He keeps his finger inside me, and I find that I like it. I like this strange kind of aftercare.

He lets me catch my breath before he pulls his hand from my underwear. Holding my gaze, he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks it clean.

“Delicious,” he declares with smoldering eyes as he lowers my dress, making sure I’m covered in an odd, gentlemanly act. “I think that will do perfectly.”

Still coming down from the high of the orgasm, I stare at his handsome features. “For what?”

“For our public appearance test.” Adjusting the bulge in his pants, he says, “Now, how about some dinner?”

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Saverio

We’re quiet during our meal. I give Anya time to come to grips with what went down. I want her to be clear about my intentions and where I’m planning on taking thisarrangement, which, in good time, will be straight to my bed.

When I come out of the bathroom after showering and dressing in pajama bottoms, she’s curled up under the covers, fast asleep. Her body is so small she looks lost on the king size mattress. I go over and brush a curl from her forehead, admiring her stunning features. With that peaches-and-cream complexion, she appears like a princess straight from a fairytale, like one of those cartoon images in which the character has a flawless skin with a pretty pink blush on her cheeks and a few golden stars dotting her nose. Almost too perfect to be real.

My good girl appears even more innocent in her sleep. She doesn’t stir as I caress the contours of her face. Tenderness steals over me. The tiredness is normal. Her body is going through enormous changes that take their pound of flesh.

The miracle that women are never ceases to fill me with awe. The thought that a little person is growing inside her womb bowls me over every time. It’s both wondrous and fucking terrifying. I want to worship her body for its incredible ability of nurturing life and protect her at the same time from everything that can go wrong. There are shitloads of complications that can happen before and during birth.

The fear and marvel live side by side in my chest. Nothing can happen to my treasure. She’s so goddamn gorgeous. So frail and vulnerable. I’ve always found pregnant women beautiful, but when Anya’s belly grows big with her baby, she’s going to be ethereal. At the idea, an ugly green monster rears its head inside me. Selfishly, I want to lock her up so that only I can enjoy the sight of her. I’ve not even been inside her yet, and I already want to kill any man who dares to look her way.

Pushing aside the violent thoughts that will only agitate me and ruin my rest, I get into bed. I stay on my side, resisting the urge to pull her into my arms lest I wake her.

When my alarm goes off at five, she’s still sleeping like she’s been knocked out cold.

I get up quietly, making sure I don’t disturb her, and dress in the bathroom before leaving for my morning jog and workout in the gym.

She’s having breakfast in the kitchen when I return.

“Sleep well?” I ask, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Yes.” She gives me a shy look. “I didn’t hear you come to bed.”

I unscrew the cap and take a long drink. “You slept deeply.”

She frowns. “For a change.”

“Maybe the vitamins are helping already.”

The puzzled look remains on her face. “Maybe.”

“I’ll drive you to work. Just give me a couple of minutes to shower.”