Page 57 of Blood Code

A moan escaped me as my hands tangled in his hair.

The intensity was almost too much to handle, and when his thumb barely brushed my clit, I fell apart completely, trembling as his cock continued to move inside me.

And then he came inside me, his hot cum filling me up, and I freaked the fuck out.

Because we hadn’t used a condom.

Chapter Fifteen

Xeniya Morozova

Age 20

Fifteen Years Ago

His hot cum dripped down my leg as I paced the boathouse.

“Oh God, oh God.” The words spilled out over and over again. “You didn’t wear a condom. You didn’t wear one.”

“No,” he whispered.

“I could have an STD…” The blood drained from my face as my airway began to constrict. “Or be pregnant, Severin. I could be pregnant.”

Oh God, my breaths came sharp and shallow, every inhale like nails scraping against my esophagus. I couldn’t pull in air, couldn’t breathe, and my fingers clawed at my throat, desperate to scream. It was all too much.

I couldn’t be pregnant. It just couldn’t happen. It would ruin everything.

I was twenty years old, and I’d be a terrible mom. Selfish and focused more on my career than my child. “I could be pregnant.” It came out in a sob.

“You’re on birth control.”

“Yes, but it’s not 100% effective, and I’m terrible at remembering to take the pill at the same time every day,” I snapped.

“It’s going to be okay.”

My face scrunched up, and I buried it in my hands. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

This couldn’t be happening.

But it was.

The chances were small, but I’d missed three pills this month, and oh gods, I was so stupid and so horny. Fuck.

Severin was on his feet in a flash.

The air whooshed from my lungs as he tossed me onto the bed and straddled me, his hand wrapping around my throat, the pressure grounding me.

“You are going to be fine. We are going to be fine. We’ll handle it.” His grip tightened once more, anchoring me to the sensation.

“I don’t want⁠—”

“If, on the small chance you are pregnant, we’ll handle it however you want. If it’s an abortion, fine. If it’s marriage, fine. Whatever you fucking want.” He licked my cheek. “Now, shut up,” he added gently. “And stop ruminating on things that haven’t happened yet because I am going to fuck you until you forget your name.”

Without warning, he slammed into me, hard this time. But instead of establishing a rhythm, he paused and captured my gaze. “Now, let’s try to make a baby.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is. More of my sperm is not going to make the problem worse. You’re already coated, filled to the brim. We can’t take that back. More sperm will just make the problem more fun. Besides, you’re about three days away from getting your period, which makes pregnancy highly improbable. You can only get pregnant about six days of the month, my dandelion: the day your egg drops and the five days my sperm will live inside of you. And if your egg drops within the next five days, fine, we’re pregnant. If not, then you get on a fucking birth control method that doesn’t require you to remember something every day. Because now that I have tasted you, I will not be satiated. I am going to fuck you more times than the earth can orbit the sun. And I’m starting now.”