by Anna Zaires
“When?” my mom asks in frustration. “Why can’t you just give us a date?”
Because I’m pregnant, and my overprotective kidnapper/husband refuses to even talk about going anywhere right now. “Mom . . .” I take a breath, trying to gather my courage. “I think there’s something you should know.”
My mom leans closer to the camera, instant worry creasing her forehead. “What is it, honey?”
“I’m eight weeks pregnant. Julian and I are having a baby.” As soon as the words are out, I feel like a slab of granite was lifted off my shoulders. I hadn’t realized until this moment how heavily this secret weighed on me.
My mom blinks. “What? Already?”
“Um, yeah.” This is not the reaction I was expecting. Frowning, I lean closer to the camera. “What do you mean, already?”
“Well, your dad and I figured that with the two of you being married and all . . .” She shrugs. “I mean, we were hoping it wouldn’t happen for a while, and you’d get to finish school first—”
“You figured I’d have children with Julian?” I feel like I’m in an alternate universe. “And you’re okay with that?”
My mom sighs and leans back, regarding me with a weary expression. “Of course we’re not okay with that. But we can’t live our lives in denial, no matter how much your dad might want to try. Obviously, this is not what we wanted for you, but—” She stops and heaves another sigh before saying, “Look, honey, if this is what you want, if he really does make you as happy as you say, then it’s not our place to interfere. We just want you happy and healthy. You know that, right?”
“I do, Mom.” I blink rapidly, trying to contain a fresh influx of emotional tears. “I do.”
“Good.” She smiles, and I’m pretty sure I see her eyes glistening with tears of her own. “Now tell me all about it. Have you been sick? Have you been tired? How did you find out? Was it an accident?”
And for the next hour, my mom and I talk about babies and pregnancy. She tells me all about her own experience—I was an oops baby for her and Dad, conceived during their honeymoon—and I explain that I hurt my arm when I was abducted by the terrorists and had to have the implant out for a short time. It’s the closest I can come to the truth: that Al-Quadar cut the implant out of my arm because they mistook it for a tracking device. My parents know about my abduction from the mall—I had to explain my disappearance to them somehow—but I didn’t tell them the full story.
They have no idea that their daughter acted as bait to save her abductor’s life and killed a man in cold blood.
By the time we finally wrap up our conversation, it’s dark outside, and I’m beginning to feel tired. As soon as we disconnect, I shower, brush my teeth, and get in bed to wait for Julian.
After a while, my eyelids grow heavy, and I feel the lethargy of sleep stealing over me. As my mind begins to drift, an image appears in front of my eyes: that of a girl bound and helpless, tied to a chair in the middle of a large, white-walled room. Her hair, however, is not blond.
It’s dark . . . and her belly is swollen with child.
Chapter 13
Julian
It’s nearly midnight by the time I finish work and get to our bedroom. Entering the room, I turn on the bedside lamp and see that Nora is already asleep, curled up under the blanket. I shower and join her there, pulling her naked body to me as soon as I get under the sheets. She fits me perfectly, her curvy little ass nestling against my groin and her neck pillowed on my outstretched arm. My other arm, bent, rests on her side, my hand cupping one small, firm breast.
A breast that feels a little plumper than before, reminding me that her body is changing.
It’s bizarre how erotic I find that knowledge, how the thought of Nora growing round with child turns me on. I’ve never thought of pregnant women as being sexy, but with my wife, I find myself obsessed with her still-slim body, fascinated by its possibilities. My sex drive, always strong, is through the roof these days, and it’s all I can do not to attack her constantly.
If not for my twice-daily jerk-off sessions, I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself.
Even now, after I just masturbated in the shower, lying wrapped around her like this is torture. I’m not willing to move away, though. I need to feel her against me, even if all I’m going to do is cuddle her. She needs rest, and I have every intention of letting her sleep. However, as I settle more comfortably on the pillow, she stirs in my arms and says sleepily, “Julian?”
“Of course, baby.” I give in to temptation and nuzzle the soft skin behind her ear as I slide my hand from her breast to the warm folds between her legs. “Who else could it be?”
“I—I don’t know . . .” Her breathing catches as I find her clit and press on it. “What time is it?”
“It’s late.” I push one finger into her to test her readiness, and my dick throbs at the slickness I feel in her tight, hot channel. “I should let you go back to sleep.”
“No.” She gasps as I curve my finger inside her, hitting her G-spot. “I’m okay, really.”
“Are you?” I can’t resist tormenting her a little. I have to rein in my sadistic urges these days, but hearing her beg is not something I can pass up. Lowering my voice, I murmur, “I’m not so sure. I think I should stop.”
“No, please don’t.” She moans as I circle her clit with my thumb and simultaneously rub my hard-on on her ass. “Please don’t stop.”
“Tell me what you want me to do to you then.” I continue circling her clit. She feels like live fire in my arms, her body warm and sleek. Her hair smells flowery from her shampoo, and her inner walls flex around my finger, as if trying to suck it deeper into her pussy. “Tell me exactly what you want, my pet.”
“You know what I want.” She’s panting now, her hips shimmying as she tries to force my fingers into a steady rhythm. “I want you to fuck me. Hard.”
“How hard?” My voice roughens as dark, depraved images invade my mind. There are so many dirty things I want to do to her, so many ways I want to take her. Even after all this time, there is an innocence to her that makes me want to corrupt her. Makes me want to push her to the limits. “Tell me, Nora. I want to hear every detail.”
“Why?” she asks breathlessly, grinding her pelvis against my hand. Her pussy is dripping now, coating my fingers with her wetness. “You won’t do what I want.”
“You don’t get to ask why.” Stilling my hand, I let some of the darker craving seep into my voice. “Now tell me.”
“I—” She sucks in her breath as I resume playing with her clit. “I want you to fuck me so hard it hurts.” Her voice quavers as I push a second finger into her, stretching her small opening. “I want you to tie me up and make me do what you want.”
“Do you want me to fuck your ass?”
Her pussy clenches around my fingers as a shudder ripples through her body. “I—” Her voice breaks. “I don’t know.”
If my balls didn’t feel like they’re about to explode, I’d find her evasiveness amusing. One of these days I’m going to make her admit that she’s grown to like anal sex, that she enjoys being taken that way. In fact, I’m going to make her beg for my cock in her little asshole. For now, though, all this talk is just that: talk. As much as I’d love to fuck every one of her tight holes, I can’t. I won’t risk the baby for momentary pleasure.
This verbal interlude will have to be enough until Nora gives birth.
Withdrawing my fingers from her body, I grip my dick and guide it to her warm, wet pussy. She moans as I begin to push into her. With both of us lying on our sides and with her legs closed, the fit is even tighter than usual, and I go slowly, ignoring the savage lust pounding through my veins.
Do not hurt her. Do not hurt her. The words are like a mantra in my brain. She arches her back, curving her spine to better accommodate me, and I slide my hand to the front of her sex, seeking out the small bud peeking through her folds. As my fingers make contact with her clit, she gasps out my
name, and I feel her spasming around me, her inner muscles contracting as she finds her release.
My heart thumping heavily in my chest, I take deep breaths and hold still, trying to contain my own impending explosion. When the urge to come abates slightly, I begin to thrust into her, rubbing her engorged clit at the same time. She lets out an incoherent noise, something between a moan and a gasp, and her body tenses in my embrace. As I continue to fuck her in short, shallow strokes, she tenses even more, crying out, and I feel her swollen flesh clamping down on me as she reaches her second peak.
The sensation of her milking my cock is indescribable, the pleasure sharp and electric. It zings through me, hurling me into a sudden climax. Groaning harshly, I grind my pelvis against her, burrowing deep into her pussy as my seed bursts out with violent, orgasmic force.
Afterwards, we lie there trying to catch our breath, our bodies glued together with sweat. As my heart rate slowly returns to normal, a feeling of satiation, of relaxed contentment, spreads through me. I know I should get up and bring Nora to the shower for a quick rinse, but it feels too good to just lie there, holding her as my cock softens inside her body. Closing my eyes, I let myself luxuriate in the moment, my thoughts drifting as I start to sink into the heavy nothingness of sleep.
“Julian?” Nora’s soft voice jolts me out of my near-slumber, sending my heartbeat spiking.
“What is it, baby?” My tone is sharp with sudden worry. “Are you okay?”
She lets out a heavy sigh and turns around in my arms, moving back to look at me. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I exhale slowly, too relieved—and sexually replete—to get annoyed at her exasperated tone. “What is it then?” I ask more calmly, bringing the blanket up to cover her. The room is cool from air conditioning, and I know Nora gets chilly when she’s tired.
She sighs again as I tuck the blanket around her. “You know I’m not made of glass, right?”
I don’t bother replying to that. Instead, I stare at her, eyes narrowed, until she blows out a breath and says, “I just wanted to let you know that I talked to my parents, that’s all.”
“About the baby?”
“Yes.” A pleased smile curves her lips. “Mom reacted surprisingly well.”
“She’s a smart woman, your mother. What about your father?”
“He wasn’t on the call, but Mom said she’ll talk to him.”
“Good.” I find it strangely satisfying, knowing that Nora finally took this step. It means she’s that much closer to acceptance, to finally admitting that the baby is a fact of our lives. “Now you can stop worrying about it.”
“Right.” Her eyes gleam black in the soft light of the bedside lamp. “The hard part is over. Now all I need to do is give birth and raise the child.”
Her tone is light, but I can hear the fear underneath the sarcasm. She’s terrified about the future, and as much as I want to reassure her, I can’t tell her that everything will be all right.
Because deep inside, I’m just as terrified as she is.
* * *
Given the late night in the office, I sleep longer than usual, and when I wake up, Nora is already stirring.
Hearing my movements, she rolls over in bed and gives me a sleepy smile. “You’re still here.”
“I am.” Giving in to a momentary impulse, I pull her close, wrapping my arms tightly around her. Sometimes it feels like the time we have together is not enough. Even though I see her every day, I want more.
I constantly want more with her.
She drapes her leg over my thigh and burrows even closer, rubbing her nose against my chest. My body reacts predictably, my morning erection stiffening to a painful hardness. Before I can do anything, however, she distracts me by speaking. “Julian . . .” Her voice is muffled. “Who’s the woman in Lucas’s house?”
Surprised, I pull back to look at her. “How do you know about that?”
“Rosa and I saw her yesterday.” Nora seems reluctant to meet my gaze. “We were, um . . . passing by.” She glances up at me through her lashes.
“Were you now?” Propping myself up on my elbow, I study her, noting the flush on her face. “And why were you passing by? You don’t normally walk in that area.”
“We did yesterday.” Pulling the blanket around herself, Nora sits up and gives me a determined look. “So who is she? What did she do?”
I sigh. I didn’t want Nora exposed to that drama, but it looks like I can’t avoid it. “The girl is the Russian interpreter who sold us out to the Ukrainians,” I explain, carefully watching Nora’s reaction. My pet is just getting over her nightmares, and the last thing I want is to trigger a relapse.
As I speak, Nora’s eyes grow wide. “She’s responsible for the plane crash?”
“Not directly, but the information she gave to the Ukrainians led to it, yes.” If Lucas hadn’t decided to take charge of the situation, I would’ve sent someone to Moscow to take care of the traitor—if the Russians hadn’t done it for me first, that is.
As Nora digests that information, I see her expression changing, darkening. It’s fascinating to observe. Her soft lips stiffen, and her gaze fills with pure hatred. “She almost killed you,” she says in a choked voice. “Julian, that bitch almost killed you.”
“Yes, and she killed nearly fifty of my men.” It’s that loss that eats at me more than anything—and I know it eats at Lucas as well. Whatever punishment he decides to dole out to his prisoner will be no less than she deserves, and I see that Nora is reaching the same realization.
As I watch, she jumps off the bed, leaving the blanket there. Grabbing her robe, she pulls it on before starting to pace around the room, visibly agitated. The brief glimpse of her naked body arouses me again, but I keep my gaze focused on her face as I get up.
“Does it bother you, my pet?” I ask. Nora stops pacing, her eyes straying to my lower body before she looks up at me. “Is that why you want to know about her?”
“Of course it bothers me.” Nora’s voice is filled with a tension I can’t quite define. “There’s a woman tied up on our compound.”
“A female traitor,” I correct. “She’s hardly an innocent victim.”
“Why couldn’t you let the Russian authorities take care of it?” Nora steps closer. “Why did you need to bring her here?”
“Lucas wanted this. He has a bit of a . . . personal . . . relationship with her.”
Nora’s eyes widen with comprehension. “He had an affair with her?”
“More of a one-night stand, but yes.” I walk toward the bathroom, and Nora follows me there. When I turn on the shower and begin brushing my teeth, she picks up her own toothbrush and does the same. I can see that she still looks agitated, so after I rinse out the toothpaste, I say, “If this really bothers you, I can have him take her away somewhere.”
Nora puts down her toothbrush and gives me a sarcastic look. “So he could torture her with no one the wiser? How would that make it better?”
I shrug, walking over to the shower stall. “You wouldn’t see it.” I leave the stall door open, so I can talk to her. The shower is spacious enough that no water will get out.
“Right, of course.” She stares at me as I begin to lather up. “So if I don’t see it, it’s not happening.”
I let out another sigh. “Come here, baby.” Ignoring the soap covering my hands, I reach for her and tug her into the stall with me. Then I take off her robe and throw it on the floor outside the stall.
She doesn’t resist as I bring her under the hot spray with me. Instead, she closes her eyes and stands still as I pour shampoo into my palm and begin massaging it into her scalp. Even wet, her hair feels good to the touch, thick and silky around my fingers.
It’s strange how much I enjoy taking care of her like this. How the simple act of washing her hair both soothes me and turns me on. At moments like these, it’s easier to forget the violence within me, to quell the cravings I can’t give in to for months to c
ome.
“What difference does it make whether Lucas is the one to mete out punishment, or if it’s the Russians?” I ask when I’m done lathering her hair. Nora’s not saying anything, but I know she’s still thinking about the interpreter, obsessing about her fate. “The outcome would be the same. You know that, my pet, right?”
She nods silently, then tilts her head back to rinse off the shampoo.
“So why are you dwelling on it?” I reach for the hair conditioner as she wipes the water off her face and opens her eyes to look at me. “Do you want her to walk free?”
“I should.” She stares at me as I begin working the conditioner into her hair. “I shouldn’t want her to suffer like this.”
My lips curl with savage amusement. “But you do, don’t you? You want revenge just as much as I do.” Her agitation makes sense to me now. As with the man she killed, Nora’s middle-class sensibilities are clashing with her instincts. She knows what society dictates she should feel, and it bothers her that the actual emotions she’s experiencing are quite different.
It’s not human nature to turn the other cheek, and my pet is starting to realize that.
Nora closes her eyes again and moves her head under the spray. The water cascades down her face, turning her lashes into long, dark spikes. “I wanted to die when I thought you were dead,” she says, her voice barely audible through the running water. “It was even worse than when I lost you that first time. When I saw the girl, I figured she did something to harm your business, but I didn’t realize she’d caused the crash.”
I picture how Nora must’ve felt that day, and an acute ache spreads through my chest. I’d go insane if I ever thought I’d lost her. “Baby . . .” Stepping closer, I use my back to shield her from the spray and cup her face in my palms, staring down at her. “It’s over. That episode in our lives is over, okay? It’s in the past.”
She doesn’t reply, so I bend my head and take her mouth in a deep, slow kiss, comforting her the only way I know how.