She’s My Queen

35. Territorial creature

35

TERRITORIAL CREATURE

CRISTINA

I t’s my first morning at home after surgery, and I’m wearing a pink pinup dress, black sandals with a modest heel, and a pink bow in my hair. My clutch matches the sandals. In the master bedroom of the west wing of our house, I spin a few times in front of the mirror, happy with how I look.

My state of mind most definitely has something to do with the man leaning against the wall, waiting for me to finish getting dressed. I’m twenty minutes late, and he’s not mentioning it. He says absolutely nothing.

Last month, if someone had told me that Severio Mancini was going to forgive a twenty-minute tardy, I’d tell them they were a poor judge of character.

But I’d have been the one who misjudged Severio. He doesn’t sweat the small stuff.

Everything this man does is for his family. All those power moves? For his family. All the safety protocols of the Society? For his family. The elimination of threats such as my dad? For his family. I’m lucky to be a part of his family.

As far as my dad goes, I’m not mourning twice since I already mourned the version of my dad who raised me and not the man who cornered me and almost killed me. The night Severio shaved his hair, he went out and returned in the morning with a swollen hand and bloodied knuckles. Dr. Bautista cleaned up his wounds. Like me, the doctor didn’t ask any questions.

Severio kissed my hand and told me everything was taken care of. I believe he meant everyone involved is no longer a threat to me. The next day, the island blockade reopened, and we never made international news.

“What do you think?” I face Severio, who looks up from the phone.

His gaze immediately finds my legs, and then the cleavage. I bought this dress because it was pretty, but shelved it because I never dared to show so much of my breasts.

But the thing about going places with Severio? Men don’t look at me. If they do, it’s a brief glance after they’ve already assessed my husband. When I’m with Severio, other men find the floor way more interesting than my boobs.

He makes a face. “It’s a little too revealing, no?”

“No,” I tell him. “My other ones are too modest.”

I can tell he doesn’t like that I’m showing off my generous cleavage. “And the scarf?”

“I’m not going to wear one.”

Severio’s lips turn up, and he pushes off the wall. Once he reaches me, he traces the red serpent tattooed like a pearl necklace around my neck. We’re attending an Order event. My first one. The location is a surprise, as is something super secretive that Severio must tell me. I don’t know anything more secretive than being introduced to a group of secret people who are in a secret society in a secret location, but hey, I’m going for the food.

Severio asked me to pick out a menu for all the meals during the day, which makes me speculate that we’re spending the day at the resort on the island, which I rarely get to do as a guest. The night I spent in the villa with Severio notwithstanding.

He cups my face and traces my lower lip with his thumb.

Since he’s buzzed his hair, his face appears even more striking. “You are a beautiful man, husband.”

He smiles, showing a dimple. “I’m also yours, so you’re biased.” He pecks my lips. “You’re very sexy, wife. Your peach-flavored lip gloss tastes good. Do you want to smear it over my cock?”

When he talks dirty to me, I blush every time. “We’re already late.”

He unzips his pants, and there’s no denying what he wants. I unhook his belt, which he takes from me.

“On your knees,” he says.

I kneel, and Severio loops the belt around my neck. It’s not choking me, but the feel of the leather on my skin makes my channel flutter. In one hand, he holds the end of the belt like a leash, and with the other hand, he pulls himself out of his boxers. He taps my lips with the mushroom tip.

He wants me to open my mouth, but I don’t, which turns him on even more because he has to force my mouth open by clutching my jaw and moving it down. “You make me crazy for you,” he says as he pushes his cock inside my mouth. Then he grabs the back of my hair, fists it, and starts to move my mouth over his cock, fucking himself with it, using me any way he wants to get off.

When I start gagging, he withdraws, pulls the dress down off my breasts, and comes all over them.

In shock, I stare up at him, then down at my breasts, then back up. “I thought you’d finish in my mouth.”

“Not today.” Severio removes the belt from around my neck. He helps me back up. I expect him to grab a cloth and clean me up because that’s what he does when his cum leaks out of my mouth or pussy, but he pulls the front of my dress back over my breasts and reaches behind my head to fix my hair.

He smells so good. Bergamot and a touch of crushed gardenia in an Irish spring.

“Fix my pants, would you? We’re running late.” He chuckles, amused with himself.

I put him back into his pants, zip, and fasten the belt. When Severio takes my hand and starts to walk outside, I tug. “Hey, I need to wash up.”

“Not a chance.”

“Your cum is on my breasts, Severio.”

“I’m aware. I was there when it happened.” We’re passing the pool.

“Have fun,” my mom says from the beach chair. “By the way, Cristina, you look really cute.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I wait until we enter the house, then, in the foyer, I dig in my heels. “I can’t go in public with your cum on me.”

“But you are going to.” Finally, he stops, hand on the doorknob. “If you want to wear revealing stuff like that, you must also wear my cum. It’ll keep my instincts at bay and save the lives of many, many men and even some women.”

“The tattoo you inked on me isn’t enough?”

He considers it for a moment. “I guess not.”

“You’re growing more possessive, Severio.”

He smiles. “I’m evolving, my queen.”

“Yeah, into a territorial, possessive husband.”

He dips his head and pierces me with those killer blue eyes. “Sue me.”

I sigh because Severio won’t change his mind about me cleaning up, and we really are late.

He opens the door for me, and I walk out, but halt at the stroller parked sideways on the pathway leading up to the west side of the house.

“Weird. Someone left their stroller in our yard.” I descend the steps and walk around the thing and notice there are tags on it. It’s brand-new. I try to push it out of the way, but it’s not moving. I search for one of those brakes I’ve seen mothers use with their feet to park the strollers. Oh, there it is. I unlock it, push it out of the way, then lock it again.

When I look up, Severio’s standing just outside the door with his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. I know that look, though this time, it’s followed by another look. Smothering heat that makes me blush all over.

I brush it off. I’m probably just horny because I got him off. I’m sure he’ll make me come sometime later when I’m so bothered, I’d beg for a single finger, not to mention his cock.

But his gaze drifts to the stroller and stays there. It has something to do with the stroller.

“Did you buy this stroller?” I ask. “Is it ours?”

My mother comes out, pushing her hands through the sleeves of a beige beach dress to cover up her bathing suit. “What’s going on?” Her eyes dart between us before she spots the stroller.

“Oh my God, are you pregnant?”

My hands cover my mouth as my mother rushes down the stairs to hug me.

“My baby girl is pregnant.” My mom’s happy for me. She moves away and examines the stroller, then gapes. “How far along?”

“Mom, I… Severio?”

My husband prowls down the stairs and over the path, his expression impartial, but I know it’s a mask hiding his feelings about the pregnancy. I can’t be pregnant, can I? Wait, I am late. Not by much, but my period is late. I haven’t been late since I got on the pill to regulate my painful cycles. And since I’m on the pill, I can’t be pregnant, can I?

“You are pregnant,” he announces. “About four weeks now, so still early, but they confirmed by blood when you were in the surgery.”

“Surgery?” I ask. “That was two weeks ago.”

Severio winces and looks away. “I wanted you to hear it from me and when the time was right.”

“You’ve known this entire time?”

He nods.

I grip the stroller, debating whether I’m allowed to be mad at him or if I should just be happy I’m pregnant. I decided not to sweat the small stuff either. “You stole my line.” I smile. “Hey, husband, I’m pregnant. That’s my line.” I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his chest. His heart beats faster than normal.

Strong arms hug me. “You’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”

“You’re teaching me not to sweat the small stuff. That’s small stuff.”

Severio chuckles. “I couldn’t predict how you’d react. It’s been eating at me for weeks. I didn’t know if you’d be happy, if you wanted kids now or later. It… The uncertainty of it drove me crazy, but the time to tell you never seemed right.”

“Why is the time right now?”

“Because,” he says, “today, I’m ready to show you the property I bought you. It’s yours. Only yours. Not mine. Not for the Order. And I figured if you’re mad at me for not telling you about our baby when I first found out, you’d forgive me when I showed you what I bought you.”

“You grovel with the best of them.”

“It’s the only way I know how to be the man you need me to be. Sometimes, I’ll make hard decisions that you’ll find wrong but that I find beneficial for our well-being. Other times, I’ll be wrong, period. No excuses. I don’t want to make you sad or upset, and so I will often apologize either by saying I’m sorry or buying you something nice.”

“I might start looking forward to you being wrong.”

“It won’t happen often,” he says.

“Yeah, right.”

I look up at him and open my mouth to tell him I love him, but he beats me to it.

“I love you,” he says.

So worth waiting for. “I love you too.”