Chapter 700: My strong, radiant mate… Look how perfectly you carry them. Your body is a miracle.
This novel contains mature/explicit sexual content, including scenes during pregnancy. Reader discretion is advised. Not suitable for all audiences.
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The night was only beginning.
Cyrus’s arms tightened around her for one heartbeat, then he released her just enough to cross the room again. With a quiet scrape of wood against stone, he slid the heavy door fully into place across the door, sealing them inside their private world. The soft click sounded like a promise.
No footsteps, no sudden knocks from Luca or teasing interruptions from Osiris or Zyran would reach them tonight. Only the crackle of the low fire and the steady rhythm of their breathing filled the space.
He returned to her slowly, each step deliberate, pink eyes glowing with barely-leashed hunger. Yet when he reached her, his touch remained feather-soft. One hand cupped the heavy curve of her belly while the other slid up her back, guiding her toward the wide sleeping alcove.
Layers of thick furs, deep brown bear pelts, soft gray wolf, and plush rabbit, had been piled high and artfully arranged into a luxurious nest that dipped gently in the center, cradling the body like a cloud. The furs still held the faint warmth of the day’s sun and the scent of dried sweetgrass.
Cyrus lifted her as though she were made of spun moonlight. His arms supported her back and knees perfectly, taking every ounce of weight so her belly rested safely against his chest. He lowered her into the center of the nest with exquisite care, arranging extra folded pelts behind her shoulders and under her lower back until she reclined at the ideal angle — supported, comfortable, with no pressure on her rounded middle. A small pillow of woven moss and down went beneath her head.
Isabella sighed as the furs enveloped her, the softness molding to every new curve pregnancy had given her. She watched him through half-lidded eyes as he knelt beside the nest, shedding his remaining clothes with unhurried movements. Firelight danced across the smooth planes of his chest and the powerful lines of his thighs. His cock stood thick and flushed, already leaking a clear bead at the tip, yet he made no rush to claim her.
Instead, he crawled into the furs with her, settling on his side so he could face her fully. Hunger burned in his gaze, but his hands moved like he was handling the most fragile treasure. He started with her face — tracing her cheekbones, the line of her jaw, the delicate shell of her ear — then leaned in and kissed her.
The kiss was achingly slow. Lips brushed, parted, met again. He sipped at her mouth like fine nectar, tongue sliding in to taste her with languid strokes that made her toes curl into the furs. Isabella melted into it, one hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath warm skin. When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead to hers.
"You undo me," he whispered, voice like velvet over gravel. "Every time I look at you carrying our young, something inside me settles and ignites at the same time."
He kissed her again, slower still, while his palm skimmed down her neck and over the swell of one breast. The fabric of her wrap had already loosened; he eased it open with careful fingers, baring her to the warm air. Her breasts, fuller and heavier now, rose with each breath, nipples peaked and sensitive. Cyrus cupped one reverently, lifting its weight as though marveling at the change.
"So beautiful," he breathed. "They’ve grown so full for them... and for me."
He lowered his head and took the nipple into his mouth. The suction was gentle at first — warm, wet pulls that sent liquid heat straight to her core. Isabella arched with a soft gasp, her fingers threading into his red hair. He suckled slowly, tongue swirling around the tight bud, then drew deeper, humming with quiet satisfaction when she whimpered. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same devoted attention, licking and sucking until both nipples glistened and throbbed with pleasure.
All the while his free hand never left her belly. He stroked the taut skin in wide, soothing circles, palm warm and steady, as if reassuring the little lives within that their mother was safe and adored.
Isabella’s breathing grew shallow. "Cyrus... that feels..."
"I know," he murmured against her skin, placing open-mouthed kisses between her breasts and down the center of her belly. "Let me worship every inch of you tonight. You deserve to feel only pleasure."
He continued lower, shifting his body with careful grace so he knelt between her thighs without pressing on her middle. Large hands glided along her legs, massaging tired calves and the backs of her knees before gently parting them. He looked up at her, eyes dark with need but voice soft. "Comfortable?"
She nodded, biting her lip. "Yes... please."
Cyrus pressed a trail of kisses up her inner thigh, then lower still, until his mouth found her slick folds. The first slow lick drew a broken moan from her. He explored her with infinite patience — broad, flat strokes of his tongue from entrance to clit, then delicate circles that made her hips twitch. When she grew wetter, he slid one finger inside her, then two, curling them gently against that sensitive inner spot while his mouth continued its tender assault.
Isabella’s head fell back into the furs, a long, needy sound escaping her. Pregnancy had made her impossibly sensitive; every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers sent sparks racing through her veins. He took his time, learning exactly what made her thighs tremble and her breath hitch. When her moans grew louder, he hummed in approval, the vibration traveling straight through her clit.
"You taste like life itself," he whispered between licks. "Sweet and warm and mine. I could stay here forever."
Her fingers tightened in his hair as pleasure coiled tighter. "Cyrus... I’m close..."
"Come for me, love," he encouraged softly, increasing the gentle pressure just enough. "Let me feel you."
The orgasm rolled through her in slow, powerful waves. Isabella cried out, body tightening around his fingers as pleasure washed over her in deep pulses. Cyrus stayed with her through every tremor, licking and stroking until the last aftershock faded, then pressed a final soft kiss to her mound before rising.
He moved up her body again, kissing every stretch mark, every curve, murmuring praises against her skin.
"My strong, radiant mate... Look how perfectly you carry them. Your body is a miracle."
When he settled between her thighs once more, his cock rested hot and heavy against her entrance. He rubbed the thick head slowly through her wetness, coating himself, eyes locked on hers. "Still good?" he asked, voice strained with restraint.
"Perfect," she breathed. "I want you inside me... gently."
Cyrus nodded, one hand bracing beside her while the other guided himself. He pushed in slowly — inch by careful inch — stretching her with that delicious fullness. Because of the pregnancy everything felt tighter, more intense. When he was fully seated, he paused, breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers.
"You feel like heaven," he groaned softly. "So warm... so tight around me. I can feel every flutter."