His Pretty Little Queen: A Dark Mafia, Age Gap Romance (Kids of The District Book 5)
His Pretty Little Queen: Chapter 29

THERE HAVE BEEN many memorable moments in my life, events that changed the very fibres of me. That constructed Clay Butcher. The reasons I act. Behave. Work. My first kill and my mother’s reaction to it… changed me—hardened me.

And now this…

My little heirs.

This will forever mould me. Soften me. I can already feel it. I won’t be the man I was yesterday, as now I have more to lose, more to die for, more to smile for.

I stare at stunned, emotion-ridden, dual-coloured eyes as beads of tears blink through blonde lashes. She is my everything. Love happened quietly for me, and like most emotions, it brewed against my will. There is—was—no place for sentiment in my life… but I feel it anyway. A building upsurge, then just like a wave, it crashes. Now, I’m below the emotion of it all, surrounded by it as its current controls my every muscle, my every thought and motivation.

It is all her.

I didn’t look at the positive test until after I saw her eyes gloss over, until she had experienced the moment herself. This time, her pregnancy will be hers first.

I slide the test into my pocket and say, “Stand, sweet girl.” She wobbles to her feet, and I slide her underwear and tight denim up her thighs, buttoning the jeans at her navel. I lean in and rub my nose along the little slit between her shirt and jeans, breathing her in. She’ll be full and round here. My cock twitches, thinking about her swelling, her smooth flesh stretching, making me an heir. I’ll keep her pregnant if I can. It’s a state I want her in. “You smell like you need my mouth on you, sweet girl. Let me take you home and spoil your pussy.”

She touches my jaw, and I straighten to my full height in front of her. “No,” she says. “I want you to make up with Max. Please. I want—”

“As you wish,” I say, opening the door for her, then watching her proceed me from the bathroom and down the corridor. She is a few metres away from me, but today, the distance grates like razor blades under my skin.

It’s too much.

I can’t touch her.

Her arse fills out her jeans. I watch the denim stretch around each perfect globe, imagining her belly round, stretching the fabric of her shirts as a feral kind of possessiveness cloaks me, consuming me.

My heart suddenly thrashes in my chest. My fingers dig into my palms, wanting to grip her arse. Feel the weight. Wanting to sink my cock between each cheek, work myself inside her puckering rim.

The need to fuck her, knowing she’s pregnant, spurs violent desire through my muscles, a course of adrenaline in my veins. To know I’m inside her in every way.

Walking behind her, I palm my cock and breathe hard, fighting with that need.

It wins.

Reaching forward, I slide my hand around her throat. A gasp rattles in my palm as I pull her backwards. Her lower back connects with my erection, and I grind against her. I growl by her ear, wildly territorial. Over her. The baby. The scent. She’s mine forever, and I don’t want to share her with them right now. I cup her pussy with my other hand and lessen some of my ache by dry fucking her lower back. “I need you to calm me down, sweet girl. Can’t think straight.”

Her throat rolls against my palm, and she tries to turn, but I don’t let her. I reach for the spare room door and guide her through it. I lock it.

Little feet rise to tippytoes to shuffle in front of me, trying to mind my gait, until we are at the side of the bed.

I bend her over it.

Releasing her throat and pussy, I push her flat. Her arse arches up like a good girl, presenting herself to me. I pull out my cock, all but panting when I fist the throbbing length and jerk myself a few times. The ache. Blood boils and expands inside my erection, the need to come a painful building urge. The veins coiling my cock pulse back in my palm. My heart beats inside them.

Heat hits my ears.

Letting go of my cock, the long hard length throbbing, I tug her jeans down to her ankles, using the material to limit her movements. Then I rip her underwear to the side, baring a tight, young pussy.

Can’t wait. I slide into her, bucking her forward when I hit her depths, abruptly taking her from empty to stuffed with my pulsating thick length. She cries out. Just once. Good girl.

I still. Release a long deep groan, I see black, the darkness of my shredding resolve taking hold, at just the clenching of her slick strong walls enveloping me. She clings. Pulses. Wanting. More. “Shh. Sweet girl. Don’t do that. Let me calm down first.”

“I want you like this,” she moans, her voice strained, muffled, her fingers digging into the sheets by her head.

“No. You don’t. I can’t lose control with you anymore.”

“Who else will you lose control with then, Sir?”

“Christ,” I growl when her pussy massages me. Damn her. “Fist the sheets harder, sweet girl. Hold tight.” I press my hand to the seam of her arse, slide my thumb to play with her pretty arsehole, and watch myself fuck her wanton little channel.

The lips of her pussy hug the root of my cock. So stretched. So pink. Then I draw out quickly against all her muscles working around me for control. I slam back in, beat another cry from her, and study the way she swallows my cock again. “Fuck. So responsive around me.”

I drop my knees to either side of her, cover her soft spine with my torso, buck my hips, and fuck her fast, each thrust taking me deeper. Taking her like a fucking feral dog, I grunt to the beat of my hips. Feeding my hand between her abdomen and the mattress, I cradle her womb. She is growing my children. “You’re pregnant, sweet girl. You’re mine in every way now. My little body to fill and use.”

That’s it. A violent groan sounds from my throat, losing my load in her early, faster than I’ve ever done before. Uncontrolled. I pump in hard, spurting hotly, tremors racketing through convulsing pelvic muscles.

I pull out before I’ve even finished and shove my fingers into her swollen wet depths, pushing my cum in further, knowing she was close, intent on making her come. My cock still drips as I work her writhing little body until she’s trembling and squirming. Coming on my hand and to my penetration.

She gasps, “Sir,” worming slowly on the mattress.

A few moments pass by with the steady twisting of my fingers in her warm pussy. The peak of her pleasure slowly levels, her trembling muscles falling lax to the mattress. “God. Sir. You can always lose control with me… but you know,”—I can hear her cheeky grin as she says—“I love you works too.”

I smile through the corner of my mouth. “I love you, little deer.”