Vladimira's P.O.V
Titus sucks my neck gently as I brush my teeth, his hands venturing under my knee-length nightgown every now and then.
"I need you. Now," Titus growls into my ear.
Pushing my ass into his groin teasingly, I realize how much I want to take him up on his offer.
He lays a dainty kiss on my neck. "God, you looked so sexy in your dress tonight, you don't know how badly I wanted to just strip you in front of everybody and have sex with you right then and there," He continues.
I release a throaty moan, my mind no longer focused on getting ready for bed. "Just take me already, Titus!"
He happily picks me up bridal style before turning off the lights and throwing me on the bed.
Even though the room is dark now, I can still see his glowing, golden eyes.
I pull him into a kiss as I slowly lean back on the soft bed, my hands searching for the hem of his shirt.
Titus stops me by pushing his hand into my chest. "No, I'm feeling too...playful for us to just strip each other's clothes off and go from there. Don't you want a little foreplay?" He whispers seductively, his hand moving to trail up the valley of my breasts.
I nod my head hesitantly. "My body is yours tonight, Titus," I confirm.
With a smile on his face, he pushes my nightgown up so it's right below my breasts before kissing over my hips and onto my stomach.
"Look how much you're growing, Little one," He coos to my belly. I smile at the sight before me.
A father talking to his unborn child—his unborn son—while also bonding with the mother.
It's a sight that I'll never forget, a sight that I'll hold onto for the rest of my eternal life.
Titus looks up at me as he begins to push my underwear off my hips. "Your father can't stop us from doing anything tonight. This is going to be fun, wouldn't you say?" He teases.
Smirking, I nod my head. "My body isn't that flexible anymore," I remind him, almost as if I'm accepting the fact that I'm not the old Vladimira that could fit into a size 4 dress.
"Yes, of course, I can't imagine pushing your body to do something it can't anymore," He proposes gentlemanly. His hands find my stomach again. "I could hurt our son."
Titus pushes my underwear off all the way before traveling down my body so he's face-to-face with my womanhood.
I gasp softly when he kisses my inner thighs gently and then breathes in the musky scent of my womanhood.
"F*ck, you're so wet," He growls.
Titus continues to tease me by kissing and licking up and down my inner thighs. He didn't hesitate to nip at my swollen rosebud a few times either.
I grip his hair. "Please! J-just do it already!" I scream.
He chuckles sexily. "What ever you wish, My Queen." He then pushes his tongue between my folds, exploring every crevice and junction he can.
I nearly faint at the jolt of pleasure his tongue sends through me; the feeling of fireworks exploding across my entire body engulfs me.
Titus reaches up expertly, his mouth still latched onto my womanhood, and takes off my nightgown.
A moan escapes me when cool air bombards my already hard nipples.
Reaching up, Titus grips one of my breasts, his lips gleaming with my juices.
This is... heaven.
"What do you want, Vladimira?" He asks gruffly.
I swallow harshly, unable to comprehend and answer his question. Doing such a task at a moment like this seems as hard as climbing Mt. Everest.
His thumb begins to tease my rosebud. "Answer me, My Queen. What do you want?"
"Sex. I want you to f*ck me," I moan.
Titus seems satisfied with my answer, so he begins to shimmy out of his pants.
But, as I see the menacing bulge in his briefs, I find myself wanting more; I find myself wanting to return the pleasure he just graciously gave me.
"Lay on your back," I order as I sit up.
Surprisingly, Titus switches places with me, allowing me to finish pulling off the rest of his clothes.
When I'm done, I lean back on my haunches and examine my handiwork while rubbing my swollen stomach.
I lean down and take him into my mouth slowly, all while looking into his gorgeous, gray eyes.
"Take me deeper," He groans, his hand moving to push me down further on his manhood.
So, I eagerly start to take him deeper, careful to not gag myself and ruin the whole sensual mood we've got going on.
Titus groans once again after I've took him into my mouth completely with my hands fondling his balls.
When was the last time I voluntarily wanted to give a man head? Is Titus really capable of driving me crazy sexually?
Suddenly, as if he forgot that it's improper to pull a royal by their hair, he pulls me off his shaft without hurting me, but it still startles me.
"What the hell?" I ask in confusion with an edge of anger.
He grunts. "Sorry, My Queen, I was about to cum, and the only place I'm doing that tonight is inside of you."
My core begins to tingle at his words. "What are you waiting for then? Cum inside of me," I order once again.
Titus motions for me to ride him. "I know you want to," He says in a sing-song voice.
And the truth is, I do want to ride him. Maybe because my hormones are off the chart thanks to my pregnancy, or maybe because ever since that night, I've had a strong desire for Titus's body, and Titus's body only.
I climb on top of him, take his shaft into my hand and lower myself.
Long story short, we ended up in various positions on the bed, f*cking at different paces until I could barely keep my eyes open, nor breathe.
By the time we settled down, the digital clock on the bedside table read 2:54 a.m. and my mind was racing with replays from our rendezvous.
Somehow, I felt a connection to Titus, something that could bloom into love solely structured on sex and an unborn child.
Gosh, where has my life gone?
Instead of focusing on Titus and I's complicated relationship, I focus on his body that's hovering over my stomach, desperately trying to get the baby to kick for him.
"How can you not be kicking? Your mother and I literally went at it for, like, three hours," He groans in frustration.
I draw in a steady breath at the mention of our sexual activities. "Give him time, Titus, he'll kick," I soothe.
He kisses my stomach gently—too close to my nether regions if you ask me—before rubbing on my stomach in the same gentle manner. "I can't believe I'm going to have a son. Think of all the names we could name him!"
"I want to name him Ulrik. It's like Alric but with a U," I explain, deliberately putting emphasis on the differences.
He thinks about it for a moment before changing the subject. "Have you talked to your father and told him his grandchild is a grandson?"
Glancing over at the burner phone that I haven't picked up since the one and only call with my father, I shrug. "My father's stubborn, a trait that he somehow managed to pass through genes to me. According to him, though, I'm very much like my mother," I ramble.
"To be honest, you do look a lot like your mother. Red hair, naturally red-tinted checks, full lips, cute, little ears," He teases me with a smile on his face.
I blush. "Zatknis," I bark at him in Russian.
Titus laughs. "I apologize, My Queen, but I don't speak Russian. Why don't you try Italian? Or German?"
He's lucky I speak multiple languages.
"Stai zitto," I reiterate in Italian.
A smile stretches across his face as he understands what I'm saying to him. "I was expecting a little more sympathy from the mother of my child," He jokes in Italian.
We just had sex; how much more sympathy does he want?
"Stop using that as an excuse. It's not always going to work," I reply in English.
Titus shrugs once again before busying himself with urging our son to move for the third time that night.
I'm content. My father can't ruin this, and my title as Queen can't ruin this. Nothing will ruin this.