Page 79 of Secret Heir

“I remember this,” she says softly, her hand moving in slow strokes that make my breath catch. “How you liked it when I—” She twists her wrist on the upstroke, and I see stars.

“Fuck,” I grunt, my hips punching up. “Yes. Like that.”

She does it again, finding a rhythm that has me gripping the sheets to keep from thrusting into her hand. Then her mouth follows, and I nearly lose control completely.

“Oh fuck,” I say harshly, my hand in her hair.

She takes me deeper, her tongue doing something that makes coherent thought impossible. I watch her through half-lidded eyes—this beautiful woman with my child growing inside her, taking me apart with her mouth—and it’s almost too much.

“Stop,” I finally gasp, tugging gently at her hair. “I need to be inside you.”

She releases me and crawls up my body, her face smug as she straddles my hips. I help position her carefully, my hands on her waist, mindful of her stomach.

“Like this,” I tell her, guiding her. “So I can see you and watch your face.”

She sinks down slowly, taking me inch by inch, and we both groan at the sensation. She’s so warm, so tight, so perfect around me. For a moment, she just sits there, adjusting to the fullness, her hands braced on my chest.

“Okay?” I ask, my thumbs stroking circles on her hips.

“More than okay.” She starts to move, slow rolling motions that make my breath catch. Her head lolls back. “You feel so good. You’ve always felt so good.”

I let her set the pace, content to watch her and feel her. The lamplight catches in her hair, making it shine. Her face is flushed and her lips parted. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“That’s it,” I encourage, my hands guiding her movements. “Take what you need. Use me.”

She does, her movements becoming more confident, more desperate. But I can see she’s tiring—pregnancy has stolen some of her stamina—and eventually I need more. I need to be deeper in her, so I take over.

I sit up, wrapping my arms around her, and pull her close for a deep kiss. Then I roll us carefully until she’s on her back beneath me, her legs wrapped around my waist.

“I’ve got you now,” I murmur against her lips, starting to move with slow, deep thrusts. “Let me take care of you.”

I brace myself on my forearms so I can watch her face and see every expression that crosses her features. She’s so open like this, so vulnerable. Her hands slide up my arms to my shoulders.

“Maksim,” she sighs my name as her hips roll into mine.

“I’m here.” I kiss her softly, my hips maintaining that slow, steady rhythm. “I’m right here, moya krasavitsa. My beautiful girl.”

The endearment slips out in Russian, and I see emotion in her eyes. She used to love it when I called her that.

“I’ve missed you,” I admit against her lips, the words escaping before I can stop them. My forehead rests against hers, our breath mingling. “Eight years, and I’ve missed you every single day. I’ve missed this. Missed us.”

Her breath catches, and I feel her hands tighten on my shoulders. “I⁠—”

“I know you’re scared.” I kiss her softly, then deeper. “I know you don’t trust me and you have secrets you’re not ready to share. But this—” I thrust a little deeper, and she gasps. “This is real, Aria. What we have, what we’ve always had. It’s real. And I’m not going to let it go again. I can’t.”

Tears slip from the corners of her eyes, trailing down into her hair and I kiss them away.

“I’m scared too,” I admit, the confession feeling necessary. “I’m scared I’ll never be enough for you to stay.”

“You will always be enough.” Her voice breaks, and she pulls me down for a kiss, our tongues tangling together as we meet each of our thrusts.

I shift the angle, hitting deeper, and she gasps against my mouth. I can feel her getting close—the way her breath hitches, and how her muscles start to flutter around me.

“Let go,” I murmur, reaching between us. My fingers find her clit, circling with the same rhythm as my thrusts. “Let me have this. Let me watch you fall apart.”

Her head thrashes against the pillow and her mouth is open in a silent scream. “I can’t—Maksim, it’s so sensitive⁠—”

“You can.” I increase the pressure and feel her body tensing beneath mine. “Trust me, moya. Just trust me.”