Page 43 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

“Harder,” I tell him. “Yes.”

Bastian leans in more, folding me tighter, and starts pounding into me. All the while he’s panting and his grip is getting harder, teeth clenched together. “You like that?” he asks, breathing hard against my ear. “You like getting fucked like this?”

“Yes,” I moan. “Don’t stop…”

He grunts with every thrust, and he keeps saying dirty things to me. “This is what you needed, isn’t it? My cock stretching you open. You were going crazy without it, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whimper as I claw at his sides. “I need you. Oh god…”

He keeps going, slamming into me harder. I can feel another orgasm building. My pussy starts to flutter around him and I don’t even want to hold it back.

“I’m gonna come again,” I gasp.

“Good. Let me feel you squeeze me.”

I come hard, groaning and grunting as my body clamps down on him.

My whole body shakes with the force of it and he keeps thrusting through my orgasm, chasing his own.

A few strokes later he buries himself deep and groans my name. I feel him pulse inside me as he comes, filling me with hot spurts.

When our bodies are calm, he pulls out of me slowly and helps me off the table.

My legs are still shaky as I quickly grab what is left of my clothes, pulling on the torn sweater as best I can and stepping into my slacks.

I don’t care how I look. I just need to stay close to him, to keep this fire burning.

I’ve needed to feel close to him like that for weeks, and I know he has to feel it too now—that deep connection that binds our hearts.

He’s never said it, but there’s no way a man can make love to a woman like that and not feel something.

Bastian zips himself up and starts walking back toward the house so I hurry after him. “Bastian, wait,” I say, catching up to him in the hallway. “I thought…” He doesn’t even look over his shoulder. “I mean, can I stay with you?”

He stops and looks at me, with a guarded expression. “Raina…”

“No, listen,” I cut in. “If something happens with the baby or with me, I’ll be all the way at the other end of the house. You wouldn’t hear me. I need to be close to you. Please.”

It’s underhanded and dirty, but given time he’ll realize that’s where I belong. It’s where he wants me, and it’s where I want to be. He might be fighting himself, but maybe it’s because he’s worried that I think this is just an arrangement. I can show him there could be more given time and intimacy.

He watches me for a long moment. I see the conflict in his eyes, but finally he nods. “Alright.”

Relief floods through me and I step closer, wrapping my arms around his bicep as he guides me back up the hallway. He’s still distant, and I get the feeling he’s doing this just to appease me. Still, I know what my heart is saying, and I love this man.

In his room, I slip out of the torn sweater and my soiled slacks, moist with the sex that’s drained out of me.

Then climb into his bed with nothing on to wait.

He’s more guarded, taking his time removing his clothing.

He leaves his boxers on, and when he climbs into bed he doesn’t curl around me like he used to.

I turn toward him. “Bastian,” I say, but he doesn’t move. I slide closer and press myself against his side, reaching for his arm to pull it around me, forcing him to hold me.

After a second his arm tightens. His other hand comes up to rest on my back. The praise from earlier echoes in my head.

The way he told me how good I felt, how much he needed me. It makes me believe he feels this connection too. He has to.

I settle against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. For the first time in weeks I feel safe and wanted. Loved, even if he won’t say the words yet. This is the heart connection I’ve been craving. He’s here, holding me. That has to mean something.