Chapter Fourteen
He could have planted the child. Victoria squirmed on the mattress. It certainly felt like she was being plowed. He was not gentle this time and the determined look on his face as he heaved his cock inside her at her made her suppose he was thinking of Lord Brigayne instead of sweet nothings. His hands had held her down with possession and his arms had pinned her with ownership. His hard cock pressed in and out with a fierce purpose instead of casual pleasure. His face hardened with his last thrust and his eyes glittered instead of closing in ecstasy when he shot his seed into her. He didn’t make love to her this time. He f*cked her. Hard. She saw a bit of the demon in them as he grimaced in his release. He clenched his teeth together hard and his hot cum like the demon’s.
“A child, Maggs. Grow a child,” he said with a ragged breath.
Victoria nodded as Maggie but she did not want a child. Yet, anyway. She understood that was her purpose in this place and time, and she understood his desperate need to keep her away from Brigayne. She wondered if he really believed she had a choice in the matter. If it meant sex every night, she could see the advantages to his desire for progeny. But Victoria was more reticent. Childbirth in this century was not pretty. There was little jov in the birthing process, no shining Mylar balloons and gift bags. There would be no heavenly sedatives or Demerol dreams. There would be no emergency caesareans or clean instruments and antibiotics. She wrinkled her nose. She did not want a child. Not here. Maggie’s mind gave her images of a witnessed childbirth, all blood and pain and tears. She shuddered.
He thrust one more time and this time closed his eyes with a sharp intake of his breath and a long groan. “Please, God,” she heard him whisper.