Before, I wouldn’t have been able to resist him if he’d spoken like this, but now, things were different. The agonizing irony of this situation was not lost on me, but it didn’t change anything, not now.
I pulled back slightly, my arms still around him, and looked into his eyes.
“Maxim, I’m pregnant. And I’m leaving.”
Twenty-Six
Maxim
My arms tightened around her instinctively, my body rejecting the idea of her leaving before my mind had fully processed it.
“No,” I finally said, squeezing her even tighter.
Both of those things were impossible. Senna couldn’t be pregnant. Senna couldn’t leave me.
But Senna, my precious little flower, shook her head. “Yes, Maxim. I am. I am pregnant. And I am leaving,” she said, looking up at me with determined eyes.
Neither should have surprised me.
I had fucked her every chance I could, my attempt to make up for the decade I hadn’t touched her, knowing I could never make up for lost time, knowing I would never have enough of her. Yet not once, not a single time had the thought of what could happen entered my mind.
Senna was pregnant, carrying my child inside her. My lungs collapsed with my exhaled breath, the sheer joy of that realization squeezing the air out of my lungs. Before, I knew I would have thought of this as a complication, something to be attended to, cleaned up, and I might still, but in this moment, I felt joy I had never thought possible, felt a lightness at the thought Senna and I had created another life.
“You’re pregnant,” I said.
She nodded.
“But you’re not leaving,” I said, certain about that if nothing else. Senna’s place was by my side. There were no other options.
As I spoke, I pulled her closer to me, noticing when she laid her body against mine, her full, soft breasts pressed against my chest, her fingers clutching at my biceps.
Her eyes told me that she was determined, but her body told a different story, one where Senna was as addicted to me as I was to her, where nothing mattered, not the Syndicate, her past, the dangers I, and by extension she, faced.
Where the only thing that mattered was this, us together. I released my hold on her but then touched her, filling my hands with her full breasts and then dropping them and lowering her pants. I wanted her naked, wanted to touch every inch of her skin, but there was no time for that slow exploration.
Near manic with the need to touch her, I ran my hand up her soft thigh and stopped at her center, smiling down at her when I found the wetness there. Her eyes had softened the way they did when I touched her, bright with pleasure but still loose, happy. But there was a sternness in her expression, one I chose to ignore. Because we had this. She couldn’t deny it, and she couldn’t leave.
As I stroked my fingers along her wet slit, Senna reached for my belt and opened my pants, her hand trembling with her need. The first touch of her soft hand against my cock made me even harder, and when she pulled me out, stroked her hand up and down my length, I couldn’t wait to be inside her for another moment.
I removed my hand from between her legs and then quickly walked her back to the bed and pushed her down. Her breasts jiggled when she bounced against the bed, the sight momentarily distracting me. But only momentarily. My throbbing cock was needy, seeking, so I grabbed her legs and spread them wide, placing one on either of my shoulders.
The sweet, musky scent of her soaking pussy filled my senses, and I looked down between her legs, wanting to see the proof of her desire, see the truth of her feelings for me.
“You can’t go, Senna,” I said, voice tight with need as I pressed my cock against her opening.
“Yes, Maxim. I have to,” she replied, her voice also tight, with both need and steely determination.
“No,” I said, breaching her, her slick pussy opening to accept my solid-steel length.
The delicious friction of her silky walls against my skin squeezing me tight was better than it had been even the first time. When I’d taken her then, I’d been driven by passion, by a decade of unexpressed desire, but I hadn’t known then what I felt for her.
Hadn’t known that I loved her.
But I knew now, and that awareness made this physical coming together that much better. That she wanted to leave made it that much more urgent.
She couldn’t, couldn’t make me live my life without this, without her.
I thrust until my pubic bone hit hers, both of us crying out when my cock filled her completely.
“I’m leaving, Maxim,” she said.
“No,” I replied, and then as I began to thrust, I reached between our bodies and strummed her clit, stroking and squeezing the hard nub between my fingers.