Fear swims in my stomach as Rocco furiously types on his phone. His eyes are narrowed, and his taut muscles are bunched tight.

Deep down, I knew there was more to Rocco than meets the eye.

He was never just an average student. The maturity and darkness lurking behind his gaze radiated from him, and the savagery of his behavior was unheard of. But never in my thirty-three years did I expect him to say he was a part of a Mafia family, an integral part of it. If his father is a Mafia don, then I can only assume he plays a key role in the family too.

Just what does that consist of? And where does that leave me and our baby?

A heavy pool of dread ripples through me. The mess I replace myself in is getting darker and deeper by the second.

I watch him type away, taking in the way he sits in the armchair with such dominance it makes me squirm. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Rocco wants me and our baby. He wasn’t wrong when he said he was obsessed with me; there’s simply not another word to describe it.

But now our baby is at the center of what is about to become a war. Our baby’s father a student of mine, my son’s best friend, and an age gap that will be frowned upon. A family divided, the good and the bad.

My heart constricts at the thought of Matty’s reaction. I’ve already given up so much for my freedom. If he hadn’t pushed to stay with his father, I would have relented, and part of me knew he knew it too.

Will he still want to see me when he replaces out the truth? That he’s about to become a brother in these twisted circumstances.

A sob erupts from me, and Rocco is at my side in a flash.

“Shh, don’t cry, Little Red. Everything’s going to be okay.” He buries his fingers in the back of my hair while he places kisses all over my face. “Daddy’s going to take care of you, always.”

Then he unwraps the towel, and I open my legs for him to position himself between them.

He nibbles down my neck, a small bite of pain with each tug of my skin, followed by a lick of his soft tongue until he reaches my breasts. He sits back on his heels to watch himself knead them, as if he knows they’re tender, yet he can’t.

Then he leans forward and laps at my nipple. Taking it into his mouth, he sucks softly while his free hand trails over the bruise on my flesh. He strokes the tarnished skin in a soothing motion, and I thread my fingers through his wayward hair, loving the soft, silky feel to his dark locks while he tastes me.

Will our baby have his dark silky hair or my red curls?

My thoughts are banished when the stickiness of his cock coats my leg, and he slowly rocks back and forth while flicking his tongue over the peaked tip of my nipple.

He groans in pleasure, and I arch my back into him.

“Fuck, you have the best tits ever, Hal.”

Moving to the other one, he moans as his lips seek the aching bud.

The pleasure of him sucking on my tit is consuming, and wetness drips from me, and I crave for him to deliver me his dirty words and his thick cock.

“Sooo good.” I moan wantonly.

“Fuck yes.” He lifts his head and pushes my tits together, playing with my nipples. His calloused hands add a bite of pain to the pleasure as he stares at them in awe, making me feel whole and womanly.

Each insecurity I have, Rocco has banished in a heartbeat.

“Did you feed Matt from these?” he asks, quirking a brow, and I still at his bizarre question.

“N-no, Gerrard didn’t want that.” I grimace, knowing how ridiculous that sounds. In truth, I was a vulnerable teenage girl who got pregnant by her first boyfriend, and I was grateful Gerrard decided to stand by me, unlike other less fortunate girls my age. My own parents abandoned me, but Gerrard’s family offered me an out.

Marry their son and they would take care of us both, seeing us through school and college and helping provide care for Matty. While I never felt good enough for their son, I was always grateful for the way they stepped in and offered me the support my family wouldn’t. So, of course, I spent every day reminding myself of the fact I was lucky to have them. So grateful, I would always do as I was told without question, and I indirectly became the perfect obedient little housewife, molded to their satisfaction.

Maybe that’s why Rocco and I have such chemistry. Our lives have been dictated too much for us to simply be ourselves.

Gerrard once told me his parents only allowed me to have a college education to brag about how well educated their son’s wife was. It was never for me to use in any capacity. It hurt, but it was true. I was never meant to become a teacher; I was never meant to become anything other than what they wanted me to be.

Nothing.

“Fuckkk.” Rocco’s voice brings me back to the present. “You’ve no idea how much the idea of feeding from you turns me on.” I lift my head off the pillow to replace his focus glued to his hands playing with my tits, and suddenly, I want to give him that. I want him to experience everything with me, everything I never got to experience. We will do it all.

“I want that too, Daddy.”

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