I watch with dumbfounded amazement as Enzo opens the door to the office, says a few words and makes a quick gesture out of the room with his thumb. A man in his forties shuffles out of the room looking scared.

I shake my head, wanting to roll my eyes but already feeling the familiar warmth pooling between my legs, the unmistakable draw he has over me. I want to go straight to him, to rip the door open and claw his clothes off, but instead I decide Mr. Cocky can sweat it out a little bit. I check the time on my phone and go to wait by the door to the manager’s office.

After only two minutes have passed, Enzo shoves the door open and steps out, glaring around until he spots me. “Get in here,” he growls, yanking me in by the arm as I giggle. He pulls the door shut behind us and presses me to the wall.

“I thought you wanted my submission,” I tease between kisses.

“Right now, I just want you.”

I kiss him, trying to memorize the taste of him and his scent—that woodsmoke smell with a masculine undertone. I drink in the moment until I can’t hold anymore, until there’s only now, until there’s no room for what might happen after today or what will happen with the baby.

He kneels down, kissing his way down my body in too much of a hurry to even take my dress off. He stops at my slightly swollen belly, kissing me there against the tight skin before he kisses lower and lower, lifting the hem of my dress like he’s about to put his mouth on me the same way he did four months ago.

I find myself too impatient, too hungry to have all of him to wait. Screw submission. If he just wants me, he’s going to get me.

I push against his shoulders, urging him to lay back against the hard ground in the office so I can climb on top of him, straddling him just below his erection. I reach to unbuckle his belt and then his zipper.

“This is highly unsubmissive,” he says with a grin.

“Deal with it.”

He runs his hands along my legs, pushing my dress up so that it bunches around my waist, giving him a clear view of my already-wet panties.

I shift around a little until I am able to slide his pants down enough to unleash his swollen cock. It flips out with a slap against his skin, heavy and fully erect, just begging to be inside me, hopefully not for the last time.

I’m about to try to maneuver getting my panties off when he sits up slightly, grips them by my hips, and rips them apart. I raise an eyebrow. “That’s one way to do it.”

“Give me that fucking pussy,” he growls.

The heat in his voice makes me chew my lip and blush, feeling sexy like only he can make me feel. Feeling dirty in the best way.

I take him by the base of his cock and slide my hips forward until I’m moving my wetness across his length, not pushing him inside me yet, but teasing him just enough that I get to watch the building impatience in his face.

I can tell he’s hardly able to hold back from just lifting me up and—

He takes me by the hips, lifts me like I'm weightless, and adjusts himself so that his cock lines up perfectly with my opening. I gasp as he stops holding me up, causing me to slide down on him and fills me with nearly every inch of him in a single motion. The suddenness of it is oddly pleasant, and once the shock has faded, I find I've already adjusted to his size as much as I can. He fits inside me so fully that it feels like if he were even the slightest bit larger, I wouldn't be able to take him all in, like he stretches me just enough to give me the pleasantly intense friction, but not so much that it hurts.

I dig my palms into his strong chest, squeezing the hard muscle there and using him for leverage while I grind my hips into him. I’m already so slick that I can hear the sounds of our sex, wet and so wonderfully dirty.

I bend down over him so that my hair makes a wall around both our faces and I can see into his green eyes that take on an almost golden hue in the right light.

“I love you,” he says up to me, even as he’s gripping my ass and working himself into me.

“I love you too,” I breathe. I’ ve grappled with the question of whether I did or not before now. I’ve gone back and forth, wondering if I could love someone who might be bad for me, who might be dangerous. But right now there’s no doubt. No question. Nothing that feels so good and so perfect could be anything but love. He’s the father of my child. He’s the man who has done everything in his power to protect me, no matter the cost. He’s the man I love.

He takes a fistful of my hair, kissing me roughly, face held in a mask of intensity. He flips me over then, just carefully enough that I know he’s being cautious of my pregnant belly, but quickly enough that I know he’s also turned on out of his mind.

“I fucking love you, Neela,” he says again, his mouth crashing into mine.

I would respond, to reaffirm my feelings, but he doesn’t seem to want to give me a chance. By the time he pulls his mouth away from mine, his pace is so fast that all I can do is moan and gasp for breath, wrapping my legs around his hips and urging him deeper inside me with my heels, wanting nothing in that moment as bad as I want his cum inside me.

He fucks me like it’s our last time, and maybe it will be. He doesn’t hold back, doesn’t take his time, doesn’t toy with me.

We are a tangle of reckless passion.

My brain feels like a wash of white light, like little bursts of ecstasy are going off as fast as fireworks, casting everything in such a blindingly bright light that there’s nothing else, only the pleasure of friction and sensation.

My orgasm comes without warning, making my body tense and my hands tighten around his taut shoulders. I feel my core clench around him, and it must be all the push he needed, because he makes a deep sound in his throat, pushing himself as deep as he can as his cock pulses with each wave of his hot release.

We lay there together, tangled up and unworried about the fact that we’re in a public restaurant, separated from the polite company of nearly a hundred people having an expensive meal by nothing but a flimsy wooden door. We don’t talk. We don’t need to. He sits against the wall and I lay my head on him, letting him stroke my hair.

“So all that’s left is for you to kidnap me again,” I say after a while.

He still strokes my hair, silent for a moment before he responds. “If only. Now is the part where the story changes.”