Their Reign (The Rite Trilogy #3) Read Online Natasha Knight, A. Zavarelli

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: The Rite Trilogy Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
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“I need this so fucking much,” I manage, kissing her as she holds on to me, grunting with the force of the fucking. I’m not sure if she’s kissing me back. All I know is that I’m inside her again. Back where I belong. And as I move faster, she closes her eyes and bares her throat. When I feel her come, all I can do is watch her face. Nothing could drag my gaze away. Not those guards, not her brother, not a fucking army.

“Lawson.” I’m not sure if I imagine her saying my name or not. It’s a breath, barely a sound obscured by a loud crash of thunder.

She dips her head, forehead coming to the curve of my shoulder. She’s wetter now, the aftershocks of her orgasm taunting my cock, and I don’t last long. I weave my fingers into the hair at the back of her skull and make her look at me. I kiss her as I come, watching her black eyes as the world stops spinning on its axis. And for an impossible moment, I am home. I am home.

* * *

I wake to unfamiliar light. Unfamiliar sounds. I open my eyes to look out of a window that’s not mine into a bright morning. Last night comes back to me in painful increments as the door opens, and I turn over to find Mercedes there. She stops when our eyes meet. She’s wearing that silk nightie with thick, fuzzy socks and carrying two mugs of coffee. She studies me but doesn’t offer a smile as she comes to the bed and holds one of the mugs out to me.

I sit up, my head throbbing, and lean against the headboard before taking the mug.

“Decaf. Sorry.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Aspirin?” she asks.

I sip and shake my head although even that hurts.

She settles beside me, pulls her knees into her chest, and blows on her coffee. Across the room, I see my clothes draped over a radiator to dry and try to remember when I undressed. Hell, I can’t even remember how I got here. But I do remember one thing, and as I turn to take in her profile and see the necklace still around her neck, I remember fucking her in the entryway.

“You probably shouldn’t have driven last night,” she says as if I didn’t know. She turns to look at me.

I sip the coffee. “You’re probably right.” I can’t move my eyes off her and she seems strangely shy as I take in her belly. She’s about six months now. A little more. Above her nightie, I see the swell of her breasts. They’re filling up for the baby. Babies.

I finish the coffee and set the mug aside. She’s still sipping hers. “Two little monsters,” I say.

She looks hesitantly toward me and nods.

“Was I such a beast that you were too afraid to tell me?”

She shifts her gaze to her coffee and sets it aside. “All I knew was I couldn’t terminate the pregnancy.” She looks at me squarely to finish. “And I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t make me.”

I rake my hand through my hair. Honestly, I don’t know either. Would I have forced that decision on her? I’d like to think not. But more and more, I’m realizing that I don’t know myself. Not really. I’ve been so busy trying not to be someone that I don’t know who I am. Don’t know which part is me and which part is me trying not to be him. My grandfather. “I’m sorry for how I was with you. I’m sorry for all of it.”

Her eyes mist. She picks up her coffee as a distraction, and sips, then sets it back down. When she turns back to me again, those eyes have turned angry.

“Are you sorry for the babies then?” she spits and swings her legs off the bed.

I catch her, hold on to her because if I let go, I’m afraid she’s just going to slip right through my fingers.

“Lois found the sonogram images. You’d hidden them, understandably. When I first saw them, what I felt was...” I pause, searching for the right words. “What I felt was hope. Joy maybe. Just the faintest suggestion of it.”

She smiles a real smile, one that’s unsure, but it, too, is hopeful. A tear slips from her eye, and I brush it away with my thumb, then slide my hand around the back of her neck to draw her to me and kiss her. She doesn’t fight me. She kisses me back, and I feel more wet tears smear from her face to mine. I taste the salt of them as our kiss deepens. I’ve missed her so much. Jesus. So fucking much.

I draw away, and she’s flushed, eyes that shiny black they get when she’s aroused. I pull her nightie off and lay her down. Strip off her panties. And I look at her for a long, long time. See how her body is changing and even more beautiful for it with her swollen breasts and protruding belly. I kiss her mouth, the space on her throat between her collarbones, her chest, and her breasts. I kiss her belly and lick the dark line that leads to her sex, where I open her legs and taste her as she moans. I note the subtle difference in her scent—pregnancy hormones, I guess—and I dip my tongue inside her, then return to her swollen clit.



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