Princes of Legacy (Royals of Forsyth University, #9)

by Angel Lawson

She and I are creators. I touch the roundness of her belly, the reality of it banging around my ribcage like some wild, unfettered thing. This is my son. I brush my lips against hers. This is my Princess. I gasp for air, tasting the tang of blood and the edge of old, rusty death. This is my legacy.

Mrs. Crane gives Heather a sour look. “For beating up a frilly frat boy? He better have gotten on his knees afterward and licked your pussy like a waffle cone.”