#annie marks

In between sloppy kisses and soft grips, he led them to the third floor. He dug into his pockets for his keys, hating to be away from her for even a second. If she was hungry for his touch, he was ravenous for hers. She’d chosen him. (Y/N) could have gone to her sisters, warned them about the wrath that would be coming their way. Instead, she chose him.

The second the front door closed behind them, clothes were coming off their bodies. They left a trail of items behind as they kissed and walked to the bed, not caring where they landed. They tried their best to be quiet given the hour of the night, but it wasn’t enough. Their pants and moans bounced off the walls, and they hoped they were thick enough that their neighbors wouldn’t get a late-night show they didn’t ask for.

Once they reached the bed, (Y/N) finally saw the extent of what had been done to him. Under the light of the moon, her eyes followed the scattered purple marks across his chest, and she couldn’t stop herself from touching the dark bruises that littered his skin. “What’d they do to you?” she said under her breath, feeling tears well in the corners of her eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore,” he said, placing a hand on her chin to force her eyes to his. “Nothin’ hurts when I’m witchu.”

(Y/N) was the one to kiss him this time. She was soft, sneaking her tongue into his mouth, gifting him a comfort he had been denied for days. Her hand cradled his cheek, careful not to touch the angry bruise on his cheek. They breathed into each other at that moment, speaking into existence the things their vocal cords could not confess. If their kiss was a promise, their lips had cemented it.

“Take me,” she whispered out of breath, resting her forehead against his. “I need you.”

Who was he to deny her?

Rio kissed from her jaw to her neck, using her distraction to lay her gently on the bed. Unlike every other encounter they'd had, he wanted to take things slow. Not just because his body was screaming at him, but because he wanted to savor the moment. (Y/N) wasn't just another body he'd taken to bed; there was something about her that made him care more than he should have.

“Chris,” she moaned, but he didn't stop. “Chris,” she breathed again, to no avail. Rio continued kissing down her body, nipping at her skin to claim her as his. “Christopher,” she said once more, this time cradling his cheek softly to force his eyes onto hers. “I need you. Now.”

“I just spent a day in jail,” he grinned. “Imma take my time with you, sweetheart.”

In a swift move, he hooked his arms under her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed and siphoning an excited yelp from her mouth. The only thing that was going through his head for the past hours was coming back to (Y/N). The thought that she could have known about the takedown and not told him had run through his mind, but it didn't sit well with him. There was no fiber in his body that felt like she would ever do that—not when she had proven many times she would do the opposite.

He trailed her legs with the tip of his tongue, only stopping every other second to kiss and nibble at her skin. (Y/N)'s back arched off the bed at his touch, following his movements unconsciously. There was nothing she could do. She was under his spell, and there was nothing in her that wanted to break it. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, she didn't know. And at that moment, it was the last thing that mattered. Not when Rio's mouth was on the skin of her thighs, inching his way closer to where she needed him at a punishingly slow pace.

“You're so wet,” he chuckled. “Is it all for me?”

His breath on her skin felt like fire, dangerous but inviting. (Y/N) wanted to touch the flame; she wanted to feel it eat and singe away at her until there was nothing left. She wanted the pain and the destruction. She wanted him. “Yes,” she breathed as his fingers spread her. He laughed softly at her needy response, licking his slip before using the tip of his tongue to learn the sides of her cunt. “Please, Christopher.”

“Watchu want, baby?” he growled, surprising himself and (Y/N) with the pet name. Rio wasn't one to use it; he didn't know it lived in his vocabulary. But it felt so right. Seeing her strewn before him, disheveled only for him, made him feel some type of way. Possessive, maybe? In... “You gotta tell me whatcu want.”

“Touch me,” she mewled. “I need you to touch me, Christopher. Stop teasing me.”

Rio hadn't learned how to stop playing with his food. He liked seeing her teetering on the edge, begging for him, yearning for his touch. He loved her mewling and groaning at every misdirected caress, her body aching for his closeness.

But he also knew how to devour exquisiteness. And there was no better dish than the one before him.

Without any hesitation, Rio closed his mouth around her aching clit, using his tongue to tease the bundle of nerves as he sucked softly. (Y/N) gripped the sheets in response, letting out a guttural moan that made the man chuckle against her skin. He had her in his grip, controlling when and how she got her release. He had power over her, power over her reactions, power over... power over her heart. And as scary as it was, he couldn't picture himself relinquishing it anytime soon.

He liked to feel her squirm under him as he held her down by the hips. He loved the way she tried to thread her fingers through non-existent locks, instead digging her nails into the skin of his nape. He relished in the needy moans that left her throat as she panted her way into an orgasm. He couldn't imagine a world where he wasn't the one making her feel that way.

“Damn, baby,” he chuckled as he swiped his tongue across his lips. “I thought I was the one who spent the day behind bars. So fucking needy.”

“I told you already,” she smiled, “I need you, Christopher.”

“I guess I've teased you enough. Huh, sweetheart?” he smirked, making his way up her body before he kissed her lips softly. “Do you want me inside, baby?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes hooded by her lids. “Please.”

Her whimpers were just as beautiful as her moans, and Rio wanted nothing more than to hear them over and over again. Yet, teasing her meant restraining himself. He took pride in his resilience, but he needed her in that moment as much as she said she needed him. Waiting would simply create too much pressure inside him, and he was already close to bursting.

As he towered over her, Rio kissed her once more. Unlike every other kiss they had shared in their intimacy, he took his time. They were always hungry and desperate, using every second they had to leave their mark on each other's bodies. But at that moment, there was no thirst to quench, no time to run out. They would have enough nights to throw each other around, to salvage their bodies in passionate outbursts. Tonight, they had something far greater, something that would take god himself to break.

One word.

Four letters.

All in silence.

He snaked his arms under (Y/N), pulling him onto his lap as he sat on the bed. He sought closeness, sought union, sought...

Rio used one hand to hold himself up to her entrance while using the other to cradle her face close. His eyes bore into hers, watching even the most minuscule expression as she sank down on his lap. (Y/N)’s mouth parted in a quiet gasp at the stretch, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. He committed to memory the way bliss washed over her face, painting a satisfied smile on her face. Moonlight painted her skin beautifully, illuminating her form in the darkness of the apartment. She looked ethereal, a goddess among mortals. Had there been a few drinks in him, Rio was sure a tear would leave his eye.

(Y/N) was the one to start moving, slowly adjusting to the intrusion and taking deep breaths from the sensation. Unlike every encounter before, every move was slow and calculated. The journey toward their climax was prolonged, but the sensations were heightened. Every rise and fall of her body brought Rio's cock deeper inside her, filling her in a way she'd never felt before.

Maybe it was the sentiment of the night—the decision to merge their lives in the most intimate ways. Maybe it was the adrenaline leaving their bodies after an eventful day. Maybe it was simply a mystical connection they felt. But that moment felt different. Everything about their movements and their sensations was different. They felt like a promise, a silent resolution of where their relationship was headed. Most of the important things they had to discuss were not spoken, but they were cemented with their bodies.

“You're so fucking beautiful, baby,” Rio groaned, softly gripping the hair on her nape. “So fucking perfect.”

“And yours,” she grinned, breathless as she quickened the pace.

His grip on her hip tightened, and a moan escaped his throat at her words. “Say that again.”

"I'm yours.”

“Again,” he growled.

“I'm yours, Christopher,” she moaned. “Only yours.”

“Fuck,” Rio choked. (Y/N) tightened around her, mewling as she chased her end. She rose and fell on his length over and over, using his shoulders for stability as her head fell back in pleasure. His eyes tidied her body—every curve, every freckle, every line. The man perused her like it would be the last time he ever did. And with the FBI sniffing so close, he couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t be. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

Rio was breathless, completely enticed by the woman on top of him. Even buried inside her, he felt too far from her. He picked up the hand that had fallen from her neck and pulled her closer once more, pressing his lips to her mouth, savoring her taste as he swallowed every moan that escaped her. His hips met hers, rolling together in perfect choreography. Their climaxes were nearing, and their bodies were exerting every ounce of energy they had toward it.

“I’m close,” (Y/N) panted, resting her forehead against Rio’s. Her arms crossed behind his neck, her hands resting on his head. “Feels so good, baby. Fuck, I l…”

Before she could say anything else, Rio crashed his lips onto hers, quieting with his tongue what she was about to say. Those words would change everything, and he knew they could never take them back. They carried more weight than a kiss, than a fuck, than a house key. Those three words had the power to shatter the fragile foundation on which they had built their relationship. Everything about them was only a few words away from crumbling, and he couldn't have that—not at that moment.

“Oh god!” (Y/N) wailed as she finally came undone, the tight knot inside her loosening as pleasure ransacked across her body. Had Rio not been holding onto her, she was sure to have fallen backward, exhaustion taking over.

But even in her state, she did not stop her movements. (Y/N) kept up with her movements, her walls clenching around Rio as she rode him through her own orgasm. She knew how close she had been to possibly ruining it all before it started, mumbling words that would destroy the bubble they had created for themselves. It had been thoughtless, careless, brought up in the heat of the moment, yet they held so much power. Strong enough to break them apart if they were even insinuated. They were good as they were—perfect even. They were in synch, in agreement. There was nothing to change.

By the time Rio came, they were both out of breath; their chests heaving and their bodies shimmering with sweat. They remained in each other's arms as they calmed, engulfed in a tight embrace. Only the sounds of their breathing filled the air, filling the room with a matching symphony. There was nothing to say anymore. Not when Rio's head rested on (Y/N)'s chest, her cheek pressed against it. They were simply there with each other.

At some point in the night, they had succumbed to sleep, finding their way under the covers. By the time (Y/N) woke up, she was wrapped around Rio, their limbs tangled together in a mess of flesh. She felt different as her eyes fluttered open, the sun barely making its way up on the horizon. For a moment, she felt disconcerted, unsure of her surroundings and how she had gotten there. That was until flashbacks of the night before assaulted her brain.

Rio and Twitch had been arrested because of her sisters; he'd been beaten and interrogated for almost an entire day. Beth had learned of Dean's lies after she, Annie, and Ruby robbed Fine & Frugal once more. Sarah had finally gotten her liver transplant. Yet the biggest change of all was that she had agreed to move in with a man she barely knew.

But somehow, she felt deep inside her it was the right thing to do. There had been no hesitation in her answer, no dread freezing her veins with regret. (Y/N) felt resolute and satisfied with her choice. All she hoped was that she didn't come to regret it.

With difficulty, she freed herself from Rio's grasp, stretching her limbs to ease the soreness in her muscles. She couldn't recall getting dressed, but she noticed the oversized T-shirt that covered her body. It was obvious who it belonged to—there weren't many options to choose from. There were no clothes like it in her bag, and there was nothing of hers in the apartment. Obviously, at some point in the night, Rio clothed her with one of his shirts.

She couldn't help the smile that stretched across her face as she walked toward the kitchen. Even if Rio would probably sleep for a few more hours, she still had to go to the hospital, and she couldn't leave him without breakfast. Surprisingly, his fridge was still full, and the groceries seemed fresh, unlike the first time she had been in the apartment.

“You always look so damn good in this kitchen,” Rio's groggy voice spoke into her ear, his arms snaking across her waist. “Now, I'm gonna get to see it every day, huh?”

“Maybe,” she smirked. “I could have changed my mind since last night.”

He tensed slightly, trying his best not to show it. “Hm," he mumbled. “And have you?”

“I haven't,” she chuckled. “And you?”

“You're crazy for even thinking that,” he said. “You just say the word and I'll have you moved here in an hour.”

“I think it'll be better if I do it little by little. Wouldn't want Beth questioning what you're doing at her house with her little sister.”

“She'll just have to get used to it,” he shrugged as he pulled her closer to him, kissing her cheek. “I'm not planning on letting you go. Ever.”

It wasn't until she was dressed and in her car that (Y/N) finally switched her phone on, suddenly bombarded by a barrage of notifications. Between missed calls and text messages, she couldn't react fast enough as the bubbles kept inundating her screen. Only one message stood out.

Please don't be dead.

It had been sent by Beth to their sister group chat only an hour before she turned the device on. Scrolling through the messages took her a couple of minutes. They mainly consisted of Annie sending 911 messages and a series of emojis that (Y/N) didn't understand until she saw Beth's. Dean had been shot by Rio, and they had been in the hospital all night.

She should have been angry at him, maybe even disappointed. The man she had just decided to live with had shot her brother-in-law and had almost killed him—she was sure he would have been dead if that's what Rio wanted. She should have gone running for the hills and not given it a second thought. Instead, something crossed her mind that should have scared her.

He should have finished the job, she thought. Dean had been the cause of Beth's problems. He's cheated, spent their money, lied, and pretended to have cancer to manipulate her sister into staying with him. In (Y/N)s eyes, he wasn't worth the grace Beth had shown him and was better gone than sucking the life out of her sister. She wasn't angry Rio had shot Dean; she was upset he'd decided his life was worth sparing.

(Y/N) still had some time to spare before she had to go to the hospital, and she decided to ease her sisters’ worries by heading to Beth's house. Not only did she have to make sure she was okay, but she had to tell her she was moving out. Maybe it wasn't the right moment, but it was something she knew had to be done sooner rather than later. And she wanted to do things head-on instead of letting her sister find an empty guesthouse.

The house seemed too silent when she arrived, even colder possibly. The kids still had to be with Dean's mom, of course. Probably getting ready for school as she walked inside. After his accident, there was no way Beth would have been able to keep them while she brought him back from the hospital. And with his new wound, she wouldn't allow them in the home until there was no sign of the attack.

That's why finding her on her knees in the dining room, scrubbing away blood, was no surprise to (Y/N). “Hey, Beth,” she peeped. "I just got your messages.”

The mug Beth had in her hands stumbled to the ground, bouncing on the carpet in the very puddle of blood she had been cleaning, whiskey mixing with the crimson liquid. She scrambled to her feet as soon as her teary eyes fell on her sister, wrapping her arms around her, afraid she was merely a figment of her imagination. “Thank god, you're okay,” she exclaimed. “I thought something had happened to you. Where were you?”

“I'm sorry,” (Y/N) said. “My phone died, and I was exhausted after my shift, so I stayed at Mike's. I didn't...”

“(Y/N), I know you weren't with him,” Beth pushed, her brows furrowing. “I called him, too, and he told me you weren't there. Don't you dare lie to me right now. I thought you were dead. So, where the hell were you?”   

Next ->

A/N: what do y'all think this will mean for reader and Beth's relationship? just how far do you guys think either of them will go? and just how will Rio screw everything up? 🫣🫣 If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

CAMILA

The smell of cigarette smoke had always been a turn off for Camila, always. Until she met Rio. Now, the smell of menthol and cedar wood cologne were comforts. The combination was entirely Christopher, and she breathed it in as he held her in the middle of the restaurant without a care who saw them.

She could blame it on hormones all she wanted, but in truth, she missed him. The few weeks they spent being consumed by one another were some of the best she ever had. There were several moments in their affair when she believed it could be something real, that he might not be the stereotype she'd originally labeled him as.

But every time she opened her mouth to tell her friends and family, something held her back. It was the lifestyle. The unpredictable and dangerous way he lived his life when they weren't together. Christopher had never involved her in his business, but she wasn't stupid or naive.

Camila understood the money he earned to buy luxury vehicles and expensive jewelry wasn't brought in by honest means. That part didn't bother her, no. The part that did was the danger it posed to him. He'd been shot, he told her so, and she'd seen the scars. She was a nurse, she knew what the three healed wounds on his chest were before he even said the words. Getting attached to someone who could end up getting themselves killed was terrifying no matter how much she enjoyed his company and getting pregnant by him was equally so.

When she looked up as he held her, she forgot all of that. He stared down at her with the kind of intensity that made butterflies take flight in her stomach, and she chanced a glance down at his lips. When Christopher put all his attention on her, no one else existed.

"Sorry for the waterworks. I always thought pregnancy hormones were an over dramatization, but nope. They are, in fact, very real."

"You good?" he asked after brushing away the remaining tears from her cheeks. She nodded just as the waitress came over with her salad.

Camila straightened up, and Chris released her, but he didn't retreat. He stayed on her side of the booth while she ate, an arm thrown up behind her on the back of the seat.

The winds seemed to have shifted between them since his apology. She didn't feel as angry, and he didn't seem as arrogant or confrontational. It didn't feel awkward between the two, and a comfortable kind of silence settled over them.

When Camila was finished, Chris brushed a few fallen strands of hair behind her ear. "Come home with me," he said softly, sending a chill down her spine.

She avoided looking at him because the second she did, she'd cave. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

He looks irresistible, she thought. "It's just not."

"Please."

The way that one word left his lips pulled her gaze. She could get lost in his brown eyes, and she nearly did. He gave her one of those up and down glances that made her breathe quicken, the kind he snuck so quickly she wasn't even sure if she really saw it.

"I don't—"

"Don't fight me. We don't have to do anything. That's not what this is." He motioned between them with a silver ringed hand. "Let me take care of you. It's the least I can do."

"I have to work early," she tried, but he brushed that off before she'd barely gotten the words out.

"I'll have you tucked in before midnight. Come on."

Chris pulled out his wallet and threw down a few bills, then pulled out his beanie and slid it on. He was always a good tipper, having sympathy for people in the service industry. She admired him for it. Wealth hadn't made him selfish, at least not in that aspect.

He helped her out of the booth, holding her hand like a gentleman. His black SUV was parked on the street just a block away, and once they were inside, he turned up the heat for her sake, knowing how much she hated to be cold. It was a warm cocoon that smelled like him, enveloping her in a sense of calm and safety she hadn't felt since she ended their relationship.

Rap music played quietly, not too loud to interrupt a conversation if she wanted to start one, and it seemed like he was waiting for just that. His fingers tapped a soft beat on the steering wheel as he drove, and he glanced her way every so often.

"I don't want you to pay for things," she said after a while. Chris looked over, a frown forming. "You said you wanted to help, to pay for stuff for the baby."

“And that’s a problem?”

Camila took in a deep, shaky breath. "I don't want to be a single mom, to do all of this alone." She shifted a little in her seat to see him better. She could tell by the tension in his jawline he didn't like the words coming out of her mouth. "Did you mean what you said, about Beth?"

He laughed, a sarcastic kind of laugh. She hated it. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. I figured you knew that by now."

"If she's nothing to you, then do this with me. I don't want your money, I can do that myself. I want you in it, too. All the way. Like, up all night, no sleep, covered in puke all the way."

The sarcastic humor vanished as he processed. He looked over at her, then back at the road. "You're serious?"

"I'm not saying I want to get back together, but I need you, Christopher."

"You have me," he said softly, reaching over to take her hand. "I promise."

Inside his apartment, Christopher pulled his jacket off, heading for the bedroom. Camila always loved his place. The open concept, the warm touches of wood and leather, the photographs.

"Strip," he said, dragging his sweatshirt off next. With his back to her, she admired the newly exposed tan skin, the muscles rippling as he moved. She loved the way his jeans hung on his hips.

She had to drag her eyes away from the lines of his hip bones. "I'm not sleeping with you."

He looked back over his shoulder, hands reaching for his belt buckle. "I'm a grown man, Camila. I can see you naked and not have to fuck. Do what I said."

He disappeared around the corner into the bathroom where she heard the sound of the shower turning on. Her stomach did a nervous flip, but she was happy to be here. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her own sweatshirt off, leaving her in jeans and a lace bralette in her favorite shade of lavender.

He was already in the shower by the time she came in. It was a massive glass box of smooth, black tile with two shower heads, one on each side. His back was to her as she unfastened her jeans and pushed them down along with her panties, then stripped off the bralette, leaving her naked. Next, Camila pulled the hair tie from her hair and let it fall. The steamy air in the bathroom felt like heaven on her skin, the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders already loosening.

When she stepped into the shower, Christopher glanced at her with heavy eyes, drinking her in slowly, like it was the first time, but he kept his distance. She liked the way he looked at her, like she was something rare and special to behold. He turned so he could see her better, but they stayed beneath their separate sprays.

While Camila washed her hair, she snuck a few glances at his perfectly tan, tattooed body. If he saw, he didn't make it known, or at least he didn't chastise her for it. She could admire him for hours and not get tired of the view. With an internal scolding, she turned so he was out of her line of sight.

She found her thoughts drifting to a very similar scene, but a different time. A series of many different times in this very room when there was no space between them, just skin on skin, his long fingers tangled in her hair, lips exploring every single inch of her body. When desire was the ruler of her emotions.

Fingertips brushing the wet hair off the back of her neck and over her shoulder yanked Camila back to now, and her heart nearly stopped. Christopher was standing beneath the spray just behind her. She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn't even noticed him come over.

"Where you at?" he hummed, pressing his lips to the spot where her neck and shoulder connected.

Camila shivered, hyper aware of how close he was behind her, the heat of his body giving her goosebumps. His fingers ran down her arm where he laced them through hers, pulling her hand up to press a kiss to the center of her palm. The other hand slid around her waist, resting right over her abdomen.

"I was just thinking," she said softly, eyes fluttering closed.

"About what?"

The sound of his voice was enough to make her melt into him, and she found all rational thought disappearing.

"Us."

She felt him chuckle—a slow, sleepy sound as he kissed his way across her shoulder blade. "Quit makin' me ask and say what's on your mind."

Camila turned her head to see him better, and he looked down with half lidded eyes. He was irresistible, water dripping down his face, his focus entirely on her. Surprising even herself, she leaned up and connected their lips, answering his question without words.

Christopher didn't deny her. He kissed her back, deep and slow, eliciting feelings only he knew how to. It was a sensation she'd desperately missed. She tried to turn in his arms, but he held firm, keeping her right where she was. Keeping her under his control. When he pulled back, he released her hand and cupped her cheek.

"Stop it," he whispered, and she blushed, but kept eye contact.

It was a battle of wills. She waited to see if he would kiss her again, and he waited to see what she wanted, what she was thinking. She could feel his cock hardening, pressing into the small of her back, but he made no move to push her further.

"Tell me what you want, Camila," he said, ghosting his lips across hers, but pulling back when she tried to kiss him.

"Christopher—"

"No."

She bit her bottom lip, drawing his eyes down to the movement. Wanting him and asking for it were two different things. In her mind, she wanted him to let go of his restraints, for him to devour her like only he could, but she didn't know how to say that out loud.

Christopher waited patiently, holding her body tight to him, but there was that look in his eye that told her he wanted an answer.

"I want you," she finally whispered, feeling the heat of embarrassment spreading up from her chest.

He grinned. "You have me. All wrapped around your pretty finger."

“You know what I mean."

"You should be really clear because what I think you might mean, you told me wasn't gonna happen."

The hand on her abdomen slipped lower, and her heart jumped into her throat. His fingertips drew shapes just above where she wanted them. She shifted back, connecting their lower bodies firmly, making a sharp breath leave his chest. He was hard as a rock now. Heat pooled in her lower body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the shower.

"Please fuck me," she managed to get out, leaning up to kiss him again, the words vibrating against his mouth. He let her have it this time, slipping his tongue between her lips to tangle with her own.

He nudged her forward toward the shower wall just out of the spray. She nearly cried with relief. Christopher took her hand again, raising it to rest against the tile, his covering hers as his other finally dipped between her legs, brushing over her clit, making her shudder.

She pulled away from his lips, dropping her forehead and resting it against the tile. His fingers worked over her dripping pussy, mouth dropping to her shoulder, teeth grazing the skin there. It was everything she'd been daydreaming about, but everything she said she wouldn't do if she came here. And yet she needed it, needed him.

He moved his hand lower, slipping a finger inside her, and the groan that came from his lips could've made her come right on the spot. He added a second finger and pumped them slow and torturous. It felt like heaven, but it wasn't enough.

"Please," she begged, resting her other hand on the tile, lips parting when his fingers curled in a way that made her cry out.

"Fuck, Camila." He removed his fingers and used his knee to knock her thighs wider apart. The thought that he was as eager as she was made her body flush even more. He used his free hand to guide his cock to her entrance, and pushed inside.

She tried to pull her hand under his free from the wall, but he held her there, forcing the other one up, caging her in, sinking himself deeper inside her. He stayed like that for what felt like forever, letting her body adjust to him by just barely pulsing in and out of her as he kissed every inch of skin he could reach. After tormenting her for several agonizing moments, his hips moved quicker, body pressing flat against hers.

"Your pussy feels so goddamn good, baby," he whispered in her ear, making her legs turn to jelly as he fucked her. "I missed this, I missed you."

He finally let her hands go, running one up her body to squeeze one of her breasts, brushing over her nipple with his thumb. It sent shocks of electricity straight between her legs, and she gasped, chin dropping to her chest.

Christopher leaned forward and kissed her jaw, teeth nipping at the skin. "Did you miss me, too?"

"Yes." She could barely form words. His cock stroked magic along her walls, his thrusts forceful and fast enough to make her lose her breath.

His hand moved back down between her legs, circling her clit with expert precision. "Tell me."

"Yes, I missed you," she gasped, latching onto his forearm and digging her nails in hard enough to leave indents. A ball of pleasure had begun to form in her lower body.

"I want you to come for me, baby,"

She moaned his name, unable to hold it in at his encouragement, the sound of his hips snapping against hers making her tremble. He took her chin in his other hand and forced her to look up at him, to meet his gaze. She could feel herself falling apart, and by the way he stared down at her, he liked the mess he'd made. Her eyes fluttered closed as she reached the precipice, so close to tipping over the edge into sheer bliss.

"Look at me," he whispered, his own pleasure thick in his voice. She opened her eyes, her lips parting as the hunger in his voice made the ball of pleasure explode.

The orgasm took her breath away, snatching it right from her chest, but Christopher held her tight and fucked her through it, not giving her an inch of space to pull back. It went on for what felt like forever, sapping every ounce of energy from her, and she was grateful for his grip or she would've dropped like a stone.

Just as hers was dissipating, his hit him full force, and she gazed up at him with heavy, satiated eyes. She loved the way his own eyes closed, his mouth dropping open, breath hitching in his chest. When Christopher opened his eyes again, he stole a kiss, his cock softening inside her. He pulled out and rested his forehead against her shoulder to catch his breath.

The water was still running hot, and Camila had to thank whoever installed the water heater in his building. When her legs felt steady enough, she pulled out of his hold and moved back under the spray, washing away the sweat and come from her skin. Christopher watched her with a half smirk, looking satisfied.

He joined her under the spray, pressing a hand to the tiny bump of her abdomen, the other running up from her ass to the cradle back of her neck. "Boy or girl," he asked.

It was a question she'd pondered for hours and hours over the last few weeks. Who would this little life be?

"Girl," she finally said, leaning up to kiss him. "You've got 'girl dad' in your DNA."

Christopher laughed, the smile covering his entire face, and Camila couldn't help but be smitten. "Why would you wish that on me? A lifetime of ass beatings and threats."

"Come on, I'm getting wrinkly."

Camila stepped out of the shower on shaky legs, Christopher right behind. She slipped into a robe on the hook on the wall and brushed her fingers through her hair, looking herself over in the mirror. He came to stand behind her, a towel tied around his waist.

He watched her as she pulled bottles from the cabinets—facial serum and moisturizers she'd stocked here when they were together. It warmed her heart to find them right where she left them, completely untouched like he knew she would be back.

"So, a girl, huh?" he asked, and she met his gaze in the mirror.

"I hope so."

He smiled, but shook his head. "I guess I should start prayin' now. I got a lot of bad karma just waitin' to rain down on my head."

"Hey, it's going to be okay either way."

He took a step forward and hugged her from behind, squeezing her tight and pressing a kiss to her temple. "Yeah, we will."

Finally, while she was putting lotion on her legs, he walked out of the bathroom, leaving her to finish getting ready for bed in a peaceful silence. By the time she was finished, Christopher had changed into sweats and pulled down the covers on the bed. He was putting on deodorant when she came back in.

"Get in bed, mama," he said, turning out the lights, leaving them in near darkness except for the city lights shining in through the enormous windows.

Camila thought the way he demanded nearly everything in life would get under her skin and drive them apart, but after the last few weeks of work without him around, she relished the way she could turn her mind off. It made her feel cozy and warm inside.

She slid between the sheets on her side of the bed, and he followed after adjusting the thermostat and closing the door. They laid beside each other for a while without speaking until he broke the silence.

"See, tucked in before midnight," he said, and she could hear the smirk without even seeing his face.

"I do believe I said coming home with you was a bad idea, though, and I was right."

He laughed. "My intentions were pure, I promise. You were the poor influence."

She reached out and swatted at his chest. Christopher snatched her up by the wrist and dragged her into his chest. She wound her arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to one of the scars on his chest—the bullet wound that'd pierced through to his lung. The one that nearly killed him.

"I want you to fire her," Camila said softly.

"What?"

She sat up a little so she could see his face. "Beth. She almost killed you once. She should never get the chance to try again."

The wheels turned inside his head, she could see it as he held her gaze. "You gonna stick around this time?"

"I'm here aren't I?"

"You gonna keep me a secret?" One of his eyebrows cocked curiously. "I give a little, you give a little, sweetheart." He brushed a finger over her bottom lip.

"No, you won't be a secret."