20. Mack

Chapter 20

Mack

I don't sleep. I don't care, either. I hold her all night long, my cock rock hard, my heart full. She's so fucking soft when she's asleep, warm and little in my arms.

When she wakes up, the smile she gives me feels like the first sunrise after a year of rain.

"Good morning," she whispers.

It really fucking is.

"Are we going to work today?"

"Do you want to?" I squeeze her hip, thinking about eating her out again.

My cock strains toward her and she giggles. "Mack, you're hard."

I roll out of bed before I do something stupid like put that thing inside her. All in good time, cock. All in good time.

"Come back," she begs.

Fuck.

I turn and her gaze drops to the erection tenting my pants.

"Please," she whispers.

Fuck fuck.

I crawl back into bed and she pulls me on top of her. We make out as she humps against my covered dick. I lose myself in her, and when she finds her release, I follow, spilling inside my pants like a teenager.

"Oops," she says when I flop onto my back, laughing at the wet mess.

"Shower time."

"Together?" she asks hopefully.

I can't say no to that.

I catch her hand and kiss her knuckles one by one. "On one condition."

Her eyes dance as she reads my face. "No sex?"

"Just not yet."

"Why not?" She gestures at the wet spot on my pants. "That was sex, really. In a way."

"But in a way isn't the same thing. And I want to show you that I can wait, after I couldn't…after I didn't when we first met." I turn her hand so I can kiss her palm, and then I look her in the eyes. "If I ask you to marry me this morning, will you say yes?"

She thinks about it. Really thinks about it. And before she opens her mouth, I know the answer is still no.

Fuck.

"I want to," she says softly.

"But not yet," I growl.

Fearless, she presses her hand to my cheek. "Saying no when I want to say yes is really hard."

But she can't lie, so she has to gut me with the truth instead. "I understand."

"I do want to say yes." And then she kisses me so sweetly I can't argue with her. Of course, we need to wait. Of course, she needs more time.

But as long as her answer is not yet , then that's my answer about sex, too.

My understanding only stretches so far, though. After a full day of work at the office, watching her work studiously in one of her new outfits, I'm aching to have to her in my arms again.

It's a miracle I didn't take her on my desk again. The restraint I've shown is remarkable.

So when she wants to go back to her own apartment that night, I put my foot down. "Absolutely not. We're going home together."

"That's not my home."

"It will be when you marry me. Consider this practice."

"Are you going to take no for an answer?"

"To proposals? Yes. To where you sleep tonight? No."

She chews on her bottom lip. "Are you going to demand I sleep naked again?"

"Yes."

She doesn't look like she hates the answer. But she's going to try to push my limits. "Are you going to sleep naked, too?"

"Not until we're engaged."

She laughs and throws her hands in the air. "Who knew you were so old-fashioned?"

Not me. But it feels right.

A week passes. A week of bedtime kisses and early morning make outs. She gets on her knees and takes me in her mouth in the shower one morning and I'm helpless to stop her.

As I'm cumming in her mouth, I tell her that I love her and she smiles sweetly at me.

It takes everything I have to not drag her to her feet and demand she marry me that very instant.

I have the same feeling a dozen times a day. At work, at the bookstore on the way home from work. In my house that is rapidly becoming her house, as she cooks and reorganizes and puts her touches on everything.

And then it does slip out, in the middle of the night.

We go to bed early, because fatigue has caught up to her, and then she wakes me up in the dark, pushing her ass back against my cock.

"I love you," I mumble while still half-asleep.

"I love you, too," she whispers back.

And then we both go very still, because that's the first time she's said it.

"I—" She sounds uncertain now.

Fuck.

"It's okay," I say.

"I know." She turns and kisses my jaw. "I love you, Mack."

I crush her to me, heart galloping now. "Isabelle…"

She laughs as I scramble off the bed and kneel beside it.

"Will you marry me?"

She's silent.

"Isabelle, you're having my child. I want you to be my wife. No, I need you to be my wife. I need the world to know we're a family."

When she still doesn't say anything, I return to the bed, sitting up with my back to the headboard. She immediately crawls onto my lap, and I wrap my arms around her. "Too soon?"

"I…" She exhales in a frustrated huff. "Mack, I don't know!"

"That's better than a straight-up no ," I say, relieved. "Hey, look at me."

"It's too dark," she mutters.

I laugh and flick on the bedside lap.

Her lovely little face is a study in conflict. "My beautiful girl, who cannot tell a lie," I murmur, stroking her cheek. "I can't be upset that you also can't make a forever promise before you're one hundred percent sure. That's part of what I love about you."

She trembles in my arms. "I think I just need to know you want me for more than my breeding potential."

My cock twitches against her ass, very inconveniently.

"Mack!" She slaps my chest.

"God damn it, Isabelle, you can't say breeding and not expect me to react. Of course, I want you for so much more than that. But it's been seven days since I've been inside you, and I'm dying here. Let me make you mine, and I'll show you just how forever I want it to be."

"You were watching me for months . While I was suffering under the misunderstanding that you didn't care about me," she says softly. "Which I know now isn't true. But what if I need months to catch up to you?"

Months.

Jesus Christ, how could I have forgotten?

"That's right." I dump her off my lap somewhat unceremoniously. "It's been months! Go to that painting over there. Wait, wrap yourself in the sheet. You might not want to be naked for this."

She gives me an uncertain look.

"Please, Isabelle. Let me prove to you that I've wanted you from the very beginning."

She hops off the bed, dragging the sheet with her across our bedroom to a small, nondescript oil landscape painting on the wall next to my dressing room.

"It hinges on the left. Tug on the right side."

She does as I instruct and the painting swings away, revealing a safe.

"One of the features on all my vaults is a digital display that shows the last time it was accessed." I stand up, following her. My heart is pounding. "When was that safe last accessed?"

"Three months ago," she says slowly. Carefully.

"The day after I took you on my desk. Early in the morning. I stayed up all night thinking about you, Isabelle. How innocent you were, how perfect you were. I couldn't stop berating myself for my hunger, for my desire. For the unforgivable sin I'd committed, but it didn't feel like a sin at all. I should have stopped us, but I couldn't. And I knew the only way to keep myself from being inside you every single day was to remove myself. From the office, from this city, from the entire continent." I clear my throat, then tell her the password to the vault.

Six numbers. Six loud beeps in the middle of the night.

"But I can't pretend that I was sure about that plan. I went back and forth. I hated myself for some of the alternatives I considered. And one of the last things I did before I got on my jet and flew across the ocean was demand a jewellery store open, a jewellery store I'd already visited once that week, the afternoon we first met."

A small gasp punctures the silence following my confession. Then a long stretch of stillness before she reaches into the safe, and I can finally release the breath I've been holding.

I lower onto one knee.

When she turns around, her fingers curled tightly around a black velvet box, I'm kneeling in front of her, one hand outstretched.

"What is this?" she asks.

"It's a promise I wanted to make three months ago. Before I knew you were pregnant. I swear, Isabelle, I'm not going to marry you because you are having my baby. You are having my baby because I took one look at you and knew I would claim you. I knew you were mine. I love you, Isabelle. You. Not just the baby. You . You are the one for me, no matter what anyone else thinks or says. They don't matter. You are all that matters. I want you to be my wife." I flex my outstretched hand. "Give me the ring, little one."

Eyes wide, she silently sets the box in my hand. I open it up so she can see the glittering diamond I chose for her, as bright as she is, my darling star.

"Isabelle Bright, will you let me marry you? Will you take me to be your husband?"

I manage not to say, or will you force me to throw you over my shoulder again and kidnap you to the nearest church? But it's on the tip of my tongue as I watch her process everything I've said.

"Did you forget about the ring?" Her voice is wavering now, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

I shake my head. "No, baby. I didn't forget about it. But I thought any proposal I did now should be…from now. Fresh. This ring was bought before I even knew you."

A flash of understanding sparks in her eyes. "No."

Blood roars in my ears. No, again? Fuck me.

"No," she repeats. "It wasn't before you knew me. Maybe it was before you knew much, but…we knew that first day, didn't we? And then the second day…"

I can still remember how soft her thigh was, pressing against my fingertips. The way my breath caught in my throat at the naked need in her eyes.

"I knew," I say hoarsely.

"Ask me again, Mack."

"Can I please be your husband, Isabelle? Will you marry me?"

"Yes." She breathes it with such relief it floods the room with lightness. "Yes, I'll marry you."

I slide the ring onto her finger. It spins, the diamond resting against her middle finger because the band is loose. "Sorry it doesn't fit," I mutter, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy.

As I stand, she reaches up and cups my face in her hands, her fingers curling into my beard. The sheet she was clutching to her body pools at her feet.

"It'll fit perfectly when I'm nine months pregnant with your giant baby," she whispers as she tugs me down by my beard.

I kiss her hungrily, taking her mouth, and then I pick her up and carry to the bed.

She moans as I set her down. "Mack, I need you."

Her plea goes straight to my bloodstream, setting me on fire.

"I'm yours," I promise her.

"Take your clothes off." She rolls over onto all fours and looks back over her shoulder. "Mack!"

I shove my pants off and close the gap between us, setting my hand on her ass.

Her hips tip up, her skinny little legs spreading wide, and her pink cunt blooms for me, revealing her wet, tight hole.

My thick, engorged cock looks obscene in comparison, but when her gaze locks on it, she moans again.

"Tell me you need this, little one."

"I need it," she pants.

"I'm bare. Just as I was when I put our baby in your belly. You're going to get my seed again."

She moans and nods desperately.

She wants me like this, at my most savage.

I grip her hip with one hand and push her legs even wider with the other, opening her up as much as possible.

My cock lifts to her wet slit on its own, finding her entrance. I stroke her there with my thumb, tracing her sweet pink skin.

And then she presses her hips back, pushing herself onto me. Not even waiting.

"Isabelle," I groan.

"I need you," she pants.

Her body stretches around me, my cock disappearing, and it feels so fucking incredible. Not just the tip this time, but my whole shaft getting the first taste of her hot, wet squeeze.

At her slick welcome, I thrust forward, unable to hold back, and she takes it. She takes every inch of me, all the way to the root.

"You're such a good girl. You feel so, so good." My balls slap against her clit as I rock our bodies, getting her ready to be ridden hard. Her pussy clenches around me, making my vision swim. "Need you, little one. Waited so long for this. Tell me it feels good. Tell me you need me to fuck you." All I want is to hear her voice. "Moan for me. Scream for me. I fucking love the sexy sounds you make, baby."

"Please, please, Mack, please." She's wild now, her body shaking. "It feels so good."

"I want to breed you, Isabelle. I want to put a baby in you properly."

"Oh my God."

"Not God."

"Mack!"

"Say it, little one."

"Breed me, Mr. Emerson."

That's all I need to hear to set a blistering pace. I grip her hips and thrust again, fucking her hard. Claiming my girl after all this time. When her knees start to slip, I flip her over onto her back, and her bright eyes locks on my face.

Fuck.

I hold her trusting gaze as I thrust balls deep again. "Mine."

"Yours," she pants, nodding.

I drop my attention to her swollen belly. A little secret bump I can still cover with one big hand, but the consequences of our first time are unmistakable. "Mine," I repeat, more reverently now.

She cries out a sob, nodding again. "Yours, he's yours."

And I don't think she can know it's our son, not yet, but I lose it. Never thought I'd have a family, and this girl might give me a son. Or a daughter. Fucking don't care, but the specificity breaks me in a whole new way.

I shift my weight, curling over her, rutting into her.

"I'm yours, too," I grunt. "Take me. I'm yours."

She screams and wraps herself around me, pulling my release from me with a roar. She comes, too, her body clamping down on my cock, and I fill her with the seed that made our baby.

I clutch her thighs in my hands, holding myself deep inside her as we ride out our orgasms.

She exhales happily as the fever releases its hold on us. "What were you saying about not just wanting me for my breeding potential?"

"Lies, all lies," I manage to get out. "I'm going to put a dozen babies in you, my little fiancée."

"Mmm." She breathes in slowly. "A dozen?"

"At least."

"Good. I can't wait."