Consent (The Loan Shark Duet 2)

Gabriel

All the way from Durban to Johannesburg my insides shake. How easily I could’ve lost her. She’s a survivor, one of the strongest I know, but even survivors eventually run out of luck. This is my fault. This is my backhanded, conniving doing. Valentina ran to protect our baby. She believed I wouldn’t want it. I can’t blame her. From her perspective, I’m the monster, and it’s true. Only a monster would kidnap her, train her to fuck him, and then make her pregnant without her consent. Only a monster would believe the worst of her, expecting her to run to get rid of our child. A good man would’ve seen things for what they are. Valentina isn’t capable of hurting an unborn child, even if that child is a monster’s.

The guilt mauls my mind to pieces all the way home. I hate myself for who I am and for what I’m going to do, because I won’t tell her. I won’t tell Valentina why she fell pregnant. I’m too needy. I want a small part of her affection and approval too much. Why make her hate me more than she already does? Why make it harder on her? It’ll be best for both of us to keep the untruth alive. She never needs to know. This is what I tell myself when I park the car in the driveway.

While she was sleeping, I called Magda to let her know the status of the situation. I also checked with Rhett on how Charlie was doing. They were behind me by one hour. I instructed them to let Charlie sleep at the guardhouse when they arrive. It was a long twelve-hour drive to Durban and back, but I barely feel the strain. Superhuman strength drives me where my woman and child are concerned. A glance at the dash clock tells me it’s three in the morning. The house is quiet, everyone asleep. Just as well. I want time alone with Valentina before facing Magda and the rest of the staff.

My precious bundle stirs when I lift her from the car and carry her inside, but I press her face to my chest, urging her not to break her sleep. I take her upstairs and lie her down on my bed, trying not to disturb her too much when I remove her clothes. After undressing, I get under the covers beside her and pull her to my chest. My body molds around hers, every part just like I remember, except for the soft curve of her stomach that presses deeper into my groin. The rest of her has lost weight. Her bony shoulders and thin arms cut straight into my conscience, and still I’m perverse enough to grow hard. I want to both possess her and revere her by not touching her. With all the willpower I possess, I force my dick down. For now, her mind is in a subconscious world, and like the bastard I am, I hold her naked body close while she can’t deny me.

Valentina

Wakefulness pulls at me, but I’m not ready to open my eyes. I’m still in my cocoon, warm and safe, only, now it’s softer and more comfortable. Slowly, reality returns. I’m in a bed, in a pair of strong arms. Naked. I lift my eyelids to find Gabriel watching me. Immediately, I tense. When is he going to order me to the gym for my punishment? As stiffness invades my muscles, his eyes grow hard, and his deformed face twists into a cold mask, but he doesn’t loosen his hold.

His voice is clipped. “How do you feel?”

I sweep my hair behind my ear, self-conscious about our nakedness. It’s been three months and my body has changed. “Fine, thank you.”

“Stay.” He throws the duvet off his body, but makes sure I’m covered.

His chiseled ass bunches, and the muscles in his broad back flex as he walks to the bathroom. A second later, the water in the shower comes on.

Not sure what to do, I look around the familiar room. The same medical equipment from before is still here. I’m not going to lie in bed awaiting my punishment naked. I get up and walk to the closet to borrow one of his T-shirts so I can make it to my room with my modesty intact, but when I open the top drawer my T-shirts are neatly folded on the shelf. So are my underwear, shorts, and nightdresses. Drawer after drawer holds my clothes as well as new garments I’ve never seen. I lift a blouse to read the label. Everything is in my size, or at least my pre-pregnancy size. Baffled, I go through the closet. My jeans, dresses, jackets, and pants are organized by colors.

“Those won’t fit, now,” his deep voice says behind me.

I jump and twirl around. Gabriel stands in the door, a towel wrapped around his waist and his chest wet with drops of water. Instinctively, I cover my breasts and below my stomach, a warm flush working its way over my body. Without looking at my naked parts, he takes a T-shirt from the top shelf and hands it to me. It’s one of his.