26. Emily

Chapter twenty-six

Emily

I cannot stop staring at the ring, which is stupid. A marriage is not a ring, but the rock on my hand is easily two or three months what I make at the shop. It's a huge, flashy reminder of how much my life has changed in the last thirty-six hours–though if I'm honest, my life has been shifting a lot longer than that. Easton's been turning my world slowly upside down ever since that day he showed up at my flower shop.

"Can you believe we'll be married by the end of the week?" Easton says, bringing my left hand up to his lips.

The end of the week part is insane to me. Apparently, the Wolf Council provides extra protection for family members. Our marriage license is Gremlin Baby's and mine ticket to an invisible layer of protection I never knew existed. That a man like Easton Degarmo would need extra protection worries me. Why the hell does Ivan's family want this baby so bad? I'd honestly assumed at this point he'd probably gone on to father a few more kids. Why not just take on those kids? Fucking Ivan. He always did want what he couldn't have.

"We have a lot to do. I have to find a dress and–"

"Samuel's got it taken care of."

"Samuel? Your brother, Samuel? Is planning our wedding?"

Easton shrugs, "It's just a small ceremony…Raul's got food and cake covered."

"Well, it ought to be interesting, if nothing else." He laughs and pulls me up from the couch. "You know, I don't think you've seen the rest of the house."

I shrug. "I figured you were just saving me the embarrassment of having to catch my breath at every landing."

He laughs. "Would you like to see? I don't even think you've seen my room yet."

I laugh. "You want to show me your room? Do you have a super cool baseball card collection or some action figures to show me?"

He laughs and rolls his eyes.

"Sure, I can waddle around for a bit."

He walks slowly alongside me as we make our way up to the second floor. I wasn't born yesterday, so I'm totally sure there's something crazy up in Easton's room–a sex swing, a spanking bench, hell, he might even have a little dungeon with a St. Andrew's Cross and an assortment of whips and floggers. He is a mafia boss, after all. I'm sure a man like him must have a weird relationship with pain, and I'm doing my best not to think too deeply about it.

"After the baby comes, we'll stay up here," he says, leading me into his room. It's a lot like I expected–expensive and masculine. He leads me to the far side of the bed. Instead of some crazy sex toy, there's an old-fashioned wooden rocking cradle. Wolf pups are carved into the top railing. A new mattress with a plain yellow sheet sits inside.

"All the Degarmo kids have slept in that when they first came home from the hospital. Tracey told me not to put anything else in there, but I got Gremlin Baby a stuffed animal…you know…for later." He pulls out a stuffed wolf from the nightstand and hands it to me.

"Easton, your family's cradle. Are you sure?"

"Of course. It was meant to be used. And Gremlin Baby will be mine soon too…so…"

I wrap my arms around him the best I can and squeeze. "Easton, you are amazing. This is way better than a sex chair."

He laughs. "A sex chair?"

I pull back and look up into his eyes. "Easton, when a man says he has something to show you in his room…"

"Okay, yeah, I can see that, but now that you've mentioned it…I do have some pretty sturdy chairs up here."

"I don't think my knees can handle getting locked up again until I weigh a little less."

He laughs and runs an appreciative hand over my ass. "I like how much you weigh."

I roll my eyes. "I appreciate the white lie."

"Not a white lie," he murmurs, going for my neck. The man and his relationship with my neck.

"Why are you always after my neck? Are you part vampire, Mr. Degarmo?"

He shakes his head as he slips a hand under my dress and hooks thumbs into the waistband of my panties. "Your scent is addictive. I can't get enough of you."

"Well, that's good. You're stuck with me for a long time."

He smiles as he kisses me, first my lips, then my neck, before pulling my dress over my head. "You know, we really need to take advantage of this time before the baby comes."

"How so?" I ask, pulling his shirt from pants before working my way down the buttons.

"Well, you know, babies are cock blockers. It's survival. They can't have mom and dad making another creature to compete with." He kneels down in front of me, running a trail down my collarbone, until he hits the valley of my breasts.

"We could always hire a night manny."

He pauses. "You mean nanny?"

I shake my head. "Absolutely not, a manny."

He laughs and shakes his head, unhooking my bra and returning his attention to my breasts. He plants his face against them and sighs. "I will miss these guys after the baby is weaned."

I laugh. "They're not even big. Besides, I haven't got my pregnancy boobs in yet. I think you're safe."

"Seriously?"

I open my mouth to respond, but his tongue is already on my nipple, sucking and licking away. My hands go to his hair, my nails digging into his scalp as I hold him in place. He pulls away after a few moments and sits me up on the bed. "Scoot back."

I do as he asks, his eyes solid black as he puts his lips to my bare knee. He runs both hands up the outer sides of my thighs, sending shivers all up and down my body. "Cold?" he asks.

"No," I shake my head and smile.

He puts his hands under my knees and pulls me closer to the edge of the bed. "Good." He kneels without another word and runs his tongue down my inner thigh.

"Can I taste you, Mrs. Degarmo?"

"I'm not Mrs. Degarmo, yet," I tease back.

He runs his tongue down my other thigh and smiles. "Can I taste you, Ms. Grayson?"

I nod, his tongue hitting my clit before I can even register what is happening. Immediately, my hands are in his hair again. He seems to be testing me, trying to figure me out–his tongue circling my clit one minute before sucking on it the next. To be honest, it all feels amazing, but a tiny part of me enjoys watching him work so hard for a reaction. I scratch his scalp with my nails, but bite my tongue to keep him guessing.

He works on my clit for a long while before looking up with an arched eyebrow. I can't help but laugh at the look of consternation on his face. "So is that how it's going to be, Ms. Grayson?" He says, kissing my inner thigh. "You like to be denied?"

"No," I laugh, but it's already too late. Easton Degarmo's on a mission. He picks me up bridal style as if I weigh nothing and puts me in the center of the bed. "Scoot up, love, lay back against the pillows."

I do as he asks, curious where this is going. He comes to kneel in front of me. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course, I do."

"Then our word is…apple."

"Apple?" I ask, confused, only to realize what he means as he pulls a soft cuff from one bedpost and wraps it around my wrist. I could probably get out of it if I really wanted to, but I'm curious to see where this goes. He cuffs my other wrist and pulls tight on the rope so that my arms lay flat back against the headboard, securing it in some secret way I can't see.

He surveys his work and then pulls at my legs like he did before, bringing my butt down just a little. "Now. I have you where I want you."

"But what if I said ap–pliance?" I tease.

He smiles and gets down on his belly, army crawling until he's face to face with my pussy.

"Or ap-plication? Or ap-" my teasing is cut off by a moan as he sweeps his tongue from my entrance to my clit in one slow move, his eyes on me the entire time. So much of my ability to control my responses was due in part to being able to control more of my body, but now that I cannot move, I am very much at his mercy.

He flattens his tongue, rolling it over my clit as his fingers slowly find their way inside me. He tilts his head a bit, resting it on my thigh as he works. First one, then two, then three fingers slowly work their way in and out of me as his tongue picks up a rhythm that has me panting. I close my eyes and let the sensation of it all wash over me. I'm dying to run my hands through his hair, to hold his head in place, to ride his face. He notices immediately, of course, and pulls away from me, pretending to be incredibly interested in kissing my inner thigh. I give him a dark look, but he only grins, working his way down my leg to my knee, before turning to my other knee.

"You're an evil man, Easton Degarmo."

He just chuckles and buries his face in my pussy again, his tongue and fingers working just a bit faster than the last. I bite my lip but the softest of whimpers escapes as my body stretches to gain just a little more friction against his mouth. There's no escaping a werewolf's ears–even the softest of sounds will not escape his notice. He moves away from my clit, his fingers leaving my body with an obscene wet sound, and pretends to be suddenly fascinated by my breasts.

"I think I'm a left breast over a right breast guy. Do you think that's because I'm right handed?" he teases.

"You're an asshole, Easton."

"You could always say apple."

"What happens then?"

"Then we cuddle."

I snort a laugh. I can't help it, I'm so worked up, and he is too. His cock tents his pants. "Nope."

"Well then, we'll continue on." He sucks his favorite nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over my flesh, as his hand slowly works down my huge belly, until he's got another finger inside of me. He makes sure to not brush my clit in any way. I do my best to push forward against him, to get any friction out of him, but he refuses.

"Fine!" I finally mutter, "You win. But I'm not saying apple."

He laughs and releases the cuff on my right hand. "Show me how you make yourself cum when you're alone," he whispers. I need no further invitation. My fingers are on my clit, working circles as soon as my hand is free.

"Inside me, Easton," I demand. He puts his finger inside me and begins to move, catching up to the rhythm I've started with my clit. It takes no time at all. His touch pushes me over the edge, as all of that pent up energy, that feeling of electric pleasure pulsing through my core hits me so hard, I'm seeing stars.

I cling onto him as best I can without a free hand, my body shaking for what feels like forever. He kisses my face as I come down.

"Did you learn your lesson, Ms. Grayson?"

"Absolutely not. But I'm ready for round two."

***

I wake up in the middle of the night starving. I pull on my dress and sneak out to the kitchen, slowly shutting the door behind me. Sir Jon is already acting like he co-owns the place. He appears out of nowhere as I step off the stairs, on his way to the kitchen. He got used to this place way too quickly. I sigh as I trail after him. "No, that's not for cats." I whisper to him as he ignores me and scurries away. Seconds later, his feline bodyguards, Kevin and Rodney, come charging in pursuit of him.

With a sigh, I follow. "No fighting!" I call, but the kitchen is already empty. I check under the table and in all the low cabinets, but there's not a cat in sight. "You can't just disappear, I mean, well, you can." I'm about to give up when I notice a door I never really paid attention to in the corner of the room. It stands slightly ajar as a fluffy tail slithers through it.

"Guys, get out of there." I sigh and flip on the light switch outside the door. It's a basement. Unfinished steps lead down to the underground floor. Rodney's already leisurely turning the corner as I take the first step down.

Slowly, I follow, listening for the sound of cat fights and hearing nothing. Not even an angry meow. Basements and clowns are not my thing. Easton didn't tell me anything was off-limits, but I can't help but feel like I'm the dumb girl in the horror movie as I come to the bottom and find a hallway of doors to my left.

"Jon-Jon? Kevin? Rodney?"

The lights are dim and I can't see any cats at all. I take a few cautious steps forward until I've reached the first set of doors–one to my left and one to my right. Each has a glass window that would probably show me who or what was inside, if the light was on. I check the doors. They both open, but from the doorway, the rooms appear empty.

"I'm being stupid. These are probably just rich people storage closets." I say aloud and suddenly there's a MREOW from the end of the hall. One or all of the dumbasses probably got stuck in one because they can't mind their own business. "I swear to God, Jon, if you got your ass stuck under a bunch of crap with spiderwebs, you're on your own."

At the end of the hall, one room has a dim light on inside. I stop and press my face to the glass, then pull back immediately. A person is sitting on the floor surrounded by cats. It's definitely cats–their tails flick back and forth. I step back until my back hits the door across the hall and wait.

Other than a soft MEOW here and there, everything is silent. I want to call out for the cats again, but who is this person? What if they see me? There's nothing here I can pick up to defend myself with. I'm two seconds from scurrying down the hall, back up the stairs, and back to my room, when I hear a man curse.

"Mother-fucking cats. I swear to God, I'll take out Degarmo myself."

The voice sounds oddly familiar. I step a little closer and the head of the person turns quickly in my direction.

"Emily? Is that you?"

I don't move, suddenly frozen to the spot.

"Emily, babe? Are you there? Let me out."

I suck in a deep, shaky breath as I put a hand on the doorknob and turn, even as my brain screams to pretend I haven't heard a thing. I flick on the light and peer around the door, straight into the handsome eyes of Ivan Andreev, my baby daddy, asshole extraordinaire.

He's bruised and beaten. There is a lot of damage–one eye is black, but the edges of the bruises are yellowing, so he's been here a while. Twenty cats, most looking like little sphinx loafs, surround him.

"Babe, you got a knife? Scissors? They pulled me off the street the other day. I was trying to come see you. I was finally able to make it back to you. And Degarmo's fucking goons just pulled me off the street and into here."

I don't move. The door shields most of my body and, more importantly, my belly from his view.

"Emily? Don't you hear me? I need your help. I need to get you and my boy out of here."

The word "boy" finally forces me out of my daze. "Your boy?" I repeat.

Ivan laughs. "Yes, our boy! He's going to be a king, babe. He's the next Andreev Alpha. I came back for you both. He's going to have the world. Anything he wants will be his for the taking."

"Boy?" I repeat dumbly. "It's a boy?"

Ivan laughs. "You didn't know? We dug into your medical records."

"I…" I am finding speech impossible. For some reason, I find myself fixating on his dumb mouth, exclaiming, "It's a boy!"

"I was going to let it be a surprise," I finally manage to get out.

He scoffs. "Surprise? That's lame. We have a nursery all set up. All blue."

"A nursery?" I'm just repeating things at this point. No actual thoughts are working their way across my brain. Otherwise, I would be out of here, up in my room or maybe even back in my apartment before Easton even realized I was gone.

How long was he going to keep him down here and not tell me?

He did tell you he was going to take out your brother, some part of my brain reminds me.

But of course, knowing what Easton is and seeing it in person are two entirely different things. I should call Angie back. She'd know what to do. But as I think about how that conversation would go down, I don't think she'd be concerned at all about Ivan being a prisoner in Easton's basement.

You're with a crime lord. What do you expect?

What do I expect?

"Come on, babe, we can be a happy family. A boy needs his father, after all, to show him the ropes."

I suck in a deep breath. "Fuck off, Ivan."

None of the cats have moved to the door this entire time, so I slam the door shut, and turn off the light, and rush down the short hall as fast as I can. I stumble up the stairs trying not to make noise, unable to breathe. At the top of the stairs, I push open the door and flip off the light as I scurry through the opening. Hastily, I shut the door hard and test the knob to make sure it's closed completely. I lean my back against the door to catch my breath, only to find myself staring into the pitch black eyes of Easton Degarmo.