The Heiress Carrying His Heir-Chapter 106 - 107: supplication

Elara’s pov

He went still. Absolutely, terrifyingly still. His eyes traced the slight, undeniable curve of my lower abdomen, the way my breasts had swollen and grown heavy, the darkening of my areolas in the pale moonlight. It was only a few months along, a small bump that could have been mistaken for a full meal or a good night’s sleep, but to him, knowing my body as intimately as he knew his own, it was a screaming declaration. His hands hovered over my stomach, trembling slightly, before he finally laid a palm against the bare skin. It was warm, calloused, and possessive. "Elara," he breathed, the word a ragged sound of shock and something else, awe, or maybe fear. "You’re..."

"Yes pregnant. With your child, because I don’t remember sleeping with anyone else since you left."

He didn’t speak. He just dropped to his knees before me. Not in supplication, but in reverence. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the gentle rise of my belly, a kiss so tender it brought tears to my eyes.

Then another, just above my navel. Then another, moving lower, tracing the line of my center where our child was growing. When he looked up at me, the heat in his eyes had changed from burning lust to something fiercer, something protective and overwhelmingly male.

"You’re carrying my heir," he said, the words a dark caress. He stood up slowly, his hands never leaving my body, one settling on the small of my back and the other cupping my breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

I gasped, an involuntary jolt of pleasure-pain shooting through me. My body was so sensitive now, reacting to his slightest touch with an intensity that bordered on violence. He noticed, of course. He noticed everything. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "And you’re even more beautiful like this."

"Kaelen," I gasped, my head falling back as his mouth replaced his hand, hot and demanding against the sensitive peak. He didn’t treat me like glass anymore; he treated me like a woman he had been starving for, his tongue swirling and teeth grazing until I was arching into him, my fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

The heavy layers of velvet and silk that had hidden me from the world lay forgotten on the floor, leaving me bare and trembling under his possessive gaze. He lifted me easily, as if my body weighed nothing to him, and carried me to the bed, laying me back against the cool sheets.

The moonlight caught the dark hunger in his eyes as he loomed over me, his hands sweeping down my sides to rest on my hips, his thumbs stroking the sharp jut of bone that had become more prominent with the pregnancy. "I’ve missed this," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I’ve missed the taste of you." 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

He didn’t wait. He spread my thighs with a rough urgency, settling his broad shoulders between them. The first touch of his tongue against my folds was electric, a shockwave that tore a cry from my throat. He was relentless, licking and sucking with a focused intensity that bordered on worship, his hands gripping my thighs to keep me open as I bucked against his mouth.

He knew exactly how to touch me, remembered every spot that made me gasp, every rhythm that made my toes curl. The pregnancy had made me hypersensitive, every nerve ending firing double time, and the pleasure built fast and hard, coiling tight in my belly.

He drove two fingers into me, curling them upward to find that spot inside that made me see stars, while his tongue worked my clit with ruthless precision. The dual sensation was too much, overwhelming, dragging me under a tide of sensation so sharp it bordered on pain. "Kaelen, please," I begged, not knowing if I wanted him to stop or never stop, my hands fisting in the sheets.

He didn’t stop. He intensified his efforts, sucking hard on my clit while he fucked me with his fingers, fast and deep.

"I should be furious," he muttered. "That you kept this from me." His tongue was a weapon, dragging over my clit with precision, his fingers curling inside me, hitting a spot that made my vision white out.

He was punishing me with pleasure, making me take it, making me acknowledge the hold he still had on my body. "But all I can think about is how stunning you are. How full." He groaned against me, the vibration adding another layer to the torture. "You’re dripping for me, Elara. So wet. So ready."

I couldn’t form words. Could barely breathe. The pressure was building to a breaking point, a tight knot of ecstasy that was going to snap. I reached down, tangling my fingers in his hair, anchoring myself to him as the world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth on me. "Don’t stop," I gasped, my back arching off the bed. "Please, don’t stop."

He growled, the sound vibrating against my skin, and redoubled his efforts. He sucked my clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers pumped into me, scissoring slightly to stretch me, to remind me of what it felt like to be full of him.

The orgasm hit me like a blow, tearing a scream from my throat that I couldn’t hold back. My inner muscles clamped down on his fingers, rippling around them as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me, leaving me shaking and gasping for air.

I was still trembling, the aftershocks rippling through my body, when he rose over me, his chest heaving. There was no hesitation now, no waiting for an invitation. He tore at his own clothes, the fabric giving way under his impatience until he was bare, his skin gleaming in the pale light. His cock was heavy and thick, jutting out from his body, the head dark with arousal. He settled between my thighs, the heat of him searing against my oversensitive skin. I looked up at him, my breath catching in my throat at the raw intensity on his face. He wasn’t just looking at me; he was looking at us, at what we had made. "I need to be inside you," he ground out, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "Now."

He guided himself to my entrance, the blunt head nudging against my slick, swollen folds. My body, primed and eager from the climax, yielded to him, but the stretch was intense, a burning, exquisite fullness that bordered on overwhelming. He pushed forward slowly, torturously, forcing me to feel every inch as he filled me. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders, my head falling back as he seated himself to the hilt. He paused there, buried deep, his forehead resting against mine, our breath mingling in the quiet room. "You feel different," he murmured, his hips shifting slightly, testing the new tightness of my body. "Softer. Hotter."

Then he began to move. He started with a slow, deep rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in, grinding against my hips with a deliberate pressure that made me gasp. It wasn’t the frantic coupling of our stolen nights before; this was possessive, a claiming that went beyond the physical. His hands were everywhere, tangling in my hair, gripping my hip, skating over the sensitive skin of my belly as if he couldn’t get enough of touching me.

The friction was maddening, the pleasure building again with a slow, inexorable heat that made my toes curl. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing him closer, needing to bridge the gap that had grown between us. "Kaelen," I breathed, the sound somewhere between a prayer and a sob. He answered me with a growl, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss as he began to thrust harder, driving us both toward the edge.

He shifted his weight, lifting one of my legs to hook over his forearm, opening me wider to the relentless rhythm he set. The change in angle allowed him to slide deeper, striking a place inside me that made me cry out, my body bowing off the mattress. He watched every reaction, his gaze predatory and heavy, drinking in the sight of me falling apart beneath him.

The scent of sex filled the air, mingling with the lingering cold draft from the window, creating a stark contrast between the chill on my skin and the fire burning where we were joined.

Each thrust was a branding, a physical reminder of the bond we had tried and failed to sever. He ground his pelvic bone against my clit with every stroke, sending jolts of electricity up my spine, until I was writhing, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensation.

"Look at us, Elara," he commanded, his voice rough, laced with dark triumph. "Look at what we made. You can’t run from this. Not anymore."