Page 91 of Claimed By the Boss
Seven months. She looks breathtaking like this—round and glowing and undeniably mine.
I turn her gently to face me. My hands slide over her hips, then move to her stomach. I spread my palms wide across the swell, feeling the firmness, the warmth, the subtle shift beneath her skin. A low sound escapes my throat.
“Fuck, Celine,” I murmur, voice rough. “Look at you.”
I drop to my knees in front of her and press my mouth to her belly, kissing the tight skin reverently. She threads her fingers through my hair as I worship every inch of it, lips brushing, tongue tasting, hands holding her like something sacred and filthy at the same time.
“You’re so full of my baby,” I say against her skin, voice low. “So fucking beautiful carrying my child. I can’t get enough of how you look now.”
She lets out a shaky breath. I hook my fingers into her panties and slide them down her legs, then rise and unhook her bra.
Her breasts are fuller and heavier, with darker nipples. I cup them gently, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks until she moans softly. I lean in and take one into my mouth, sucking slowly, savoring the way her body responds.
I guide her to the bed and help her lie on her side, facing me. I strip off the rest of my clothes and settle behind her, pulling her back against my chest. One arm wraps around her, hand resting possessively over her round belly, while the other slides between her thighs.
She’s already wet. I groan against her neck as I stroke her, circling her clit before pushing two fingers inside her. She arches back into me with a soft moan.
“Zane…”
“I’ve been watching you all night,” I rasp, kissing the side of her neck as I fuck her slowly with my fingers. “Seeing how they look at you now. Seeing you like this—heavy with my baby, still commanding every room you walk into. It drives me fucking crazy.”
I line myself up and push into her from behind, slow and deep. The angle lets me stay close, one hand on her belly, the other holding her thigh. She feels incredible—tighter, wetter, more sensitive. I groan deeply as I sink all the way in.
“God, you feel perfect,” I breathe against her ear. “So full of me in every way.”
I start moving, deep, rolling thrusts that let me stay wrapped around her. Every stroke is deliberate. I keep my hand spread wide over her belly, feeling it move slightly with each thrust.
The sight and feel of her like this, round, glowing, carrying my child, pushes me closer to the edge faster than I want.
She moans louder, pushing back against me. “Harder… please.”
I give her what she needs, fucking her deeper, my hips snapping forward while I keep her anchored against me. My hand slides down to rub her clit in firm circles. Her breathing grows ragged, her fingers gripping my forearm tightly.
“Come for me, baby,” I growl against her neck. “Let me feel this pretty pregnant pussy come around my cock.”
She shatters with a broken cry, clenching hard around me, her whole body trembling in my arms. The feeling is too much. I thrust deep and follow her, coming hard inside her with a low, guttural groan, pulsing as I fill her.
We stay locked together afterward, my cock still buried inside her, my hand resting protectively over her belly. I press soft kisses along her shoulder and the back of her neck, breathing her in.
She sighs contentedly and relaxes against me.
“I meant what I said earlier,” she whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I tighten my arm around her, palm still warm on the curve of our child.
“Good,” I murmur. “Because I’m never letting you go.”
41
CELINE
The nursery is almost finished.
I’m sitting on the floor of the room that used to be a guest space, surrounded by half-assembled shelving and a stack of small folded clothes Lena sent from a shop in Zurich she swears is the only place worth buying baby clothes from, and I’m trying to decide where the rocking chair should go. By the window, probably. Somewhere with light.
Zane is supposed to be helping with the shelving. He’s been on the phone in the doorway for ten minutes instead, something with Alexei about a routine matter, and I’ve given up waiting and started organizing the clothes myself, tiny things that don’t seem real yet even now, this close to the end.
“Sorry,” he says, finally off the phone, crouching down beside me. “Alexei wanted to confirm the spring council calendar.”
