“You do smell fucking phenomenal,” he growls.

He runs his thumb down the slit between my pussy lips, feeling my slick wetness. My pussy is thrumming with anticipation, my clit already swollen and sensitive, even though he’s barely touched me yet. My heart is thumping, and I feel that anxious anticipation, the desire coiled inside me like a spring.

I can smell the scent of Dante’s skin, even when he’s down between my legs. It smells intoxicating, enticing, irresistible . . .

My body wants him. Craves him. Needs him.

I’m sure it’s true . . . I’m fertile right now. Ovulating. Biologically driven to mate with this man who is the biggest, strongest, and most ferocious that I’ve ever seen.

“Cum inside me,” I beg him. “Make a baby with me, Dante.”

His eyes are two black pools of lust. He rips off his shirt, revealing those thick slabs of muscle on his chest, shoulders, and biceps. The dark hair on his chest arouses me, as do his tattoos, and even the scrapes and cuts from our time in the woods. Evidence of what this man did for me, risking his life to save me.

He unbuttons his jeans, dropping them down his hips, revealing that heavy, thick cock, that springs up, already fully hard and seeking the warmth and wetness between my legs.

He grips the base of it, positioning it at my entrance. Then he drives into me in one long, firm thrust.

I’m so wet that his cock slides all the way in, all the way to the base. We’re pressed together, face to face, chest to chest. Dante supports himself on the thick pillars of his arms, pinning me down to the bed. Clenching his ass cheeks, he drives his cock into me again and again.

I wrap my legs around his hips, my ankles linked behind his legs. I grind my clit against him with every thrust. It’s so swollen and sensitive that each thrust sends a wave of pleasure pouring over me.

“Cum inside me,” I beg him again. “Get me pregnant.”

Dante wraps me up in his arms and fucks me harder, driven wild by my request.

“You want my baby?” he grunts in my ear. “You want to carry my child?”

“Yes,” I moan.

That’s all it takes. My desire for his seed makes him explode inside of me. I feel his cock pulsing as he shoots rope after rope of cum deep inside my pussy, right at the entrance of the cervix.

The twitching of his cock and the thick, hot sensation of his cum brings me to orgasm as well. My pussy clenches around him, squeezing and contracting, drawing his cum deeper, all the way into my womb.

Dante kisses me deeply, wildly, erotically.

I kiss him back, certain that his seed will take hold.

We’re going to make another baby. Intentionally, this time.

And Dante will be with me every step of the way.

46

Dante

Once Raylan is feeling better, we drive back to Chicago.

I go straight to the Griffin’s mansion on the lake. I want to talk to Callum and my sister, to tell them that Du Pont is gone. They don’t have to worry anymore.

But when I get there, only Riona is sitting in the kitchen, looking tense and expectant. She jumps up as we come in.

“There you are!” she says, relieved.

“Where is everyone?” I ask her.

“At the hospital. Aida’s having the baby.”

“Oh.” A wave of relief washes over me, followed by concern. “Is she alright? Was it early?”

I’m worried she went into labor too soon, because of stress.

“It’s fine,” Riona assures me. “She’s full term. Cal’s been texting me updates. It should be any time now.”

Riona opens the briefcase sitting on the breakfast nook table, and takes out Kenwood’s hard drive.

“Nero left this for you. He said, and I quote, ‘You won’t believe the shit on here.’ ”

I take the hard drive, turning it over in my hands. It feels heavy, and fraught with all the awful information contained in its metal shell.

“What are you going to do with it?” Simone asks me.

I know what she’s worried about. She thinks I’m going to use it to blackmail Kenwood, or his fancy friends.

I look her right in the eye.

“No deals,” I promise her. “Kenwood’s going to jail, if I can make that happen.”

“Thank you,” Simone says, in an exhausted tone.

Riona goes over to Simone and rests her hand gently on her shoulder.

“Are you alright?” she asks. “You need a drink?”

“God yes,” Simone says. Then she stops herself. “Actually, just water if you don’t mind.”

Simone’s amber-colored eyes meet mine, and a surge of warmth passes between us. I know she’s being extra careful, just in case. In case a fragile little zygote might be taking hold inside of her right now.

“I could use a drink,” Raylan says, in his smooth southern drawl. I see him eying Riona, taking in her clear, creamy skin, her bright green eyes, and her high ponytail of flame-colored hair.

Riona narrows her eyes at him.

“You look like a scotch might kill you,” she says.

“I do a lot of things that might kill me,” Raylan laughs.

“Do you think that’s impressive?” Riona sniffs, tilting up her chin in disdain.

“Nah,” Raylan grins. “Just the truth.”

“The liquor cabinet is over there,” Riona points. She was willing to mix a drink for Simone, but not some bedraggled stranger.

I’d like to warn her that her coldness to Raylan is the wrong course of action, if she wants to get rid of him. The higher she builds those walls, the more he’s gonna want to tear them down. That’s the nature of Long Shot—he loves an impossible challenge.

On the other hand, I’m in the best mood I’ve experienced in the last nine years. I’d actually enjoy the entertainment.

Raylan strolls over to the liquor cabinet, taking down a bottle of Johnny Walker Scotch. He’s a bourbon man usually, so I know he grabbed that one just to annoy Riona.

“What’s your poison, councilor?” he says. “Let me mix you a drink.”

“No, thank you,” Riona says, sternly.

“Let me guess . . .” he pretends to look her up and down, though I saw him do that already. “I put you as a gin and tonic girl.”

A light flush of color comes into her cheeks. That’s exactly right, though I don’t know how Raylan guessed it.

“I suppose Dante told you that,” she says.

“He never even mentioned you,” Raylan says. “Guess he’s not as good a friend to me as I thought.”

“How do you know I’m a lawyer, then?” Riona demands, catching the hole in his statement.

“Well . . .” Raylan says, taking down two tumblers and filling them with ice. “You’ve got the navy suit, Souliers heels, and Akrivia watch. All stealth wealth, because you want to put your colleagues in their place, but you don’t want to piss off the judge by showing him you make more money than he does. The no-nonsense hair and the unisex cologne sends a nice little fuck off to anybody who tries to sexualize you in the workplace. And then you’ve got your two-hole punch and your notary stamp over there in your briefcase.”