Sophia’s text burned on the screen like a countdown to hell: I’m booking an earlier flight home. Something feels wrong. I’ll be there in three days.
Damien read it while his c*m still dripped from my freshly-bred cunt onto the marble floor of the master bathroom. He laughed—a low, dark, vicious sound that sent chills racing down my spine even as fresh heat pooled between my legs.
“Three days,” he repeated, tossing my phone onto the counter. His big hand slid down to cup my c*m-swollen belly possessively. “Plenty of time to make sure you’re carrying my child before my daughter walks through that door and sees what a ruined breeding w***e her best friend has become.”
He didn’t give me time to shower. Instead, he bent me over the marble vanity, kicked my legs apart, and shoved his still-ha
