Page 71 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
All that matters is her.
Her flushed skin. Her parted lips. Her heavy tits bouncing with every thrust. The way her breath hitches every time she sinks down on me.
I love watching her use my body to chase her own pleasure.
She scratches her nails down my chest, her movements getting frantic, her moans sharper. She’s close—I know her sounds like I know her body.
“Yeah, baby,” I grunt, my own release building fast. “Take what you need from me. I want to feel you milk my cock. Come on, Paige—take it.”
My words always push her over, and tonight’s no different.
She cries out, slamming down on me as her pussy tightens and pulses.
The feeling of her coming around me pulls my orgasm out like a fucking detonation.
“Fuck!” I roar, hips jerking up as I spill inside her, filling her with everything I’ve got.
She clings to me, her breath hot against my neck, her body still shaking.
And I swear to god, I feelemptied out.Like she pulled something deeper from me than just cum.
Something I’ll never get back.
And I don’t want it back.
After we catch our breath, I reposition her so she’s sitting between my legs, her back pressed up against me. I reach for her body wash and pour some onto her loofah, inhaling the scent that’s become synonymous with her in my mind. I start to wash her, slowly and sensually. There’s no hurry. It’s all about savoring her nearness, memorizing every inch of her skin with my hands.
I run the loofah over her shoulders, down her arms, carefully cleaning between each of her delicate fingers. I pay special attention to her chest, the swell of her breasts that will soon feed our children. I glide the loofah down her sides, over the curve of her belly.
“You’re good at this,” she says as I carefully wash between her fingers, treating each one like it’s made of the finest crystal.
“I’m a man of many talents.”
“Have you done this before?”
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intended. I soften my tone. “But there’s a lot I do with you that’s new to me. I just follow my instincts. They’ve served me well so far.”
“I’ll say.” She falls quiet, but I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. I keep cleaning her, waiting her out. Finally, she speaks. “Do you think you’ll be good with the kids? I mean, you’ve never done that before, right? Does it make you nervous?”
“What’s there to be nervous about?” I answer, a little too quickly. The truth is, I’m fucking terrified. But I’d never admit that out loud. “There’s lots of information online about feeding and caring for them, what milestones to expect, how to deal with them when they’re sick. I’ve already started doing some research in my spare time.”
“I’m not talking about basic care,” she says, her voice soft. “I mean, how do you mold your kids into being good people? Teach them things when you don’t always feel like you know how to be a functioning adult yourself? It feels like it’d be so easy to screw things up, and I don’t want to do that with my kids.”
Her words hit me like a fucking sledgehammer. She’s voicing the exact fears that keep me up at night, the ones I barely let myself acknowledge, even in the privacy of my own head.
“Don’t worry about any of that,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “No one’s perfect, and I think that the most important thing is that you care enough to try. You’re accepting and loving, Paige. That’s the kind of thing that matters. To kidsandadults.”
“I just want them to be happy.”
I place a hand on her stomach again. “They will be. I’ll make sure of it.” I’ll kill anyone who tries to make them feel the way I did growing up—small, worthless, broken.
“Wewill.”
“Right,” I grin, covering the momentary crack in my armor. “Of course we will. Together. Now, lean forward.”
She does, and I move her hair over one shoulder, exposing the nape of her neck. I press a kiss there, right at the top of her spine, before running the loofah down her back in smooth, careful strokes.
“Can you tell me about your childhood?” she asks, and I freeze. My whole body goes rigid. I don’t talk about that shit. Ever. It’s not that I was beaten or starved or any of the truly horrific things some people endure. But I had my own special kind of hell, and the shame I felt then still burns inside me like a banked fire, ready to flare at the slightest provocation.
