“You have eased me in beautifully, love. But now I’m ready for my bastard.” He sucked in a breath, gaze skipping to my lips, dick twitching against me. “Say that again. Call me your bastard.” Like in the training yard, but now I understood. He’d been called bastard like it was the worst thing—the marker of a man who’d never known the one who sired him and who’d killed one of the only fathers he had known. Not a name he deserved, but one he’d been given anyway, and if the way I said it reframed it for him… “You’re my bastard, Bastian. My beautiful fucking bastard. Mine. And now I want you to
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