Page 45 of Bratva Boss's Secret Baby

“Good,” she says with a wicked smile, twisting her wrist in a way that makes me see stars. “I want you as desperate as you made me.”

She leans down and takes me in her mouth, and I nearly come off the bed. Her tongue swirls around the head of my cock while her hand works the base, and the combination of sensations is almost too much to bear.

“Sabrina, stop.” I’m gasping and pulling her away reluctantly. “I need to be inside you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asks, lying back and spreading her legs in invitation.

I position myself carefully between her thighs, hyper-aware of her pregnancy and the need to be gentle despite the fire burning through my veins. The head of my cock brushes against her entrance, and we both shudder at the contact.

“You’re sure you’re ready?” I ask, even though I’m dying to push inside her.

“I’ve been ready since the moment you walked into the room,” she says, reaching down to guide my cock inside her opening.

When I push inside her slowly, inch by inch, she makes a sound of pure satisfaction. She’s so tight and hot and perfect that I have to stop moving entirely to keep from coming immediately.

“Christ…” I inhale and exhale slowly while bracing myself on my forearms above her. “You feel incredible. Better than I remembered.”

She lifts her hips experimentally, taking me deeper, and the movement sends shockwaves of pleasure through both of us. “You’re so big,” she whispers, her nails digging into my shoulders. “I can feel every inch of you.”

I start to move slowly, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, and she meets every thrust with enthusiasm. Her breasts bounce with each movement, and I can’t resist leaning down to capture one nipple in my mouth.

“Yes.” She arches into me. “Just like that.”

I increase the pace gradually, building a rhythm that has her gasping and clinging to me. Every thrust brings us closer together, not just physically but emotionally, like we’re finally acknowledging what’s been building between us since that first night at the safehouse.

“Harder,” she urges, wrapping her legs around my waist. “I need more.”

I give her what she wants, driving into her with more force while being careful not to put pressure on her belly. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the room, along with her moans and my harsh breathing.

“Touch yourself,” I say, voice rough with desire. “I want you to come first.”

She slides her hand between us, finding her clit, and the sight of her touching herself while I’m buried inside her is almost myundoing. Her walls flutter around me as she works herself, and I know she’s close.

“That’s it.” I change my angle to hit that spot inside her that makes her cry out. “Come for me, Sabrina. Let me feel you fall apart.”

With a breathless whimper, she presses on her clit and cries out. Her pussy clamps around me as she comes, milking my release. With a shout of relief, I let go, spilling my seed inside her, bare this time, with no barriers between us. Fucking perfection.

Afterward, we lie in silence, the sheets tangled between us, with her head tucked beneath my jaw. Her breathing gradually slows, and I notice the moment the tension leaves her body completely. I expect the guilt to creep in as I worry about what this means for our already complicated situation, but it doesn’t come. Instead, a strange calm settles over me, like the last piece of a puzzle has shifted into place.

Sabrina speaks first. “We need to figure out how to raise this child together. Civilly.”

I nod against her hair, though something about the word “civilly” sits wrong with me. It sounds distant and formal, like we’re business partners negotiating a contract instead of two people who just made love with desperate intensity.

“I know the circumstances aren’t ideal,” she says, tracing lazy patterns on my chest with her fingertip, “But I want us to be able to co-parent without drama or resentment.”

Tension flares in my chest at the word “co-parent,” though I can’t entirely explain why. The term implies separation, division of responsibility, and shared custody arrangements that would require me to give her up half the time. The thought makes myskin itch with something that feels dangerously close to panic. “I’ll try,” I say instead of voicing any of that.

What I don’t tell her is this isn’t about civility for me. It’s about proximity, and the fact that I can’t breathe properly when she’s not within reach. The idea of her taking our child and disappearing into a life I’m not part of makes me want to tear apart the world.

She tilts her head up to look at me, and in the dim light I see the uncertainty in her expression. “I have an appointment with my doctor in a few days. It’s the sixteen-week checkup, and maybe a gender ultrasound if the baby cooperates.” She pauses, like she’s gathering courage. “You can come if you want.”

The offer surprises me. I’ve been expecting her to maintain boundaries around her medical care, to keep some parts of the pregnancy separate from my involvement. “You want me there?”

She barely hesitates. “I think you should be there… If you want to be.”

“I want to be.” The response comes without hesitation. “I want to be part of all of it.”

She settles back against my chest, apparently satisfied with my answer. “Good. I hope we can find out if we’re having a boy or a girl.”

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