I speak, and he has her repeat the phrases, which she does, haltingly, but without hesitation. There was one moment when I wondered if she would refuse.
Baird is heading into the home stretch and looks a little relieved. “You have now both entered a solemn and binding contract and by the virtue of these declarations made in my presence and the presence of the witness, I have pleasure in pronouncing you husband and wife.
“You may now kiss.”
I cradle her delicate face in my hands and kiss my wife with a certain level of savagery that she seems to appreciate, based on the little noises that I’m sure she’s not aware that she’s making.
“Congratulations to you both,” the Lord Provost says warmly.
“What just happened?” Morana’s holding two wedding certificates on her lap.
“We got married again,” I remind her. “You were there for both of them, as I recall. So, Mrs. MacTavish, I’m taking you to lunch and then back to the house for another wedding night.”
By the time we make it to our table at The Witchery, Morana looks ready to stab me with her butter knife. I introduce her as my wife to the maître d’, the sommelier, three business associates who happen to be dining there, and the busboy.
“I get the message, thank you,” she whispers, looking around uncomfortably. “We’re married. It’s clear.”
I smile innocently as I open the menu. “Try the trout, it’s amazin’ here.”
After lunch, Morana relaxes enough with a glass of wine to eye me speculatively over the rim as she takes a sip. “What is the next step in your master plan?”
She already looked around to make certain we were alone, though I’d specified that I wanted a table in an alcove facing the entrance and away from everyone else.
“Keep taking everything away from two particular Bratvas, and when there’s nothing left, kill them all,” I say, finishing my glass of Maclellan Cask Strength Red Label.
“How dangerous is this for you and your family?”
“We have allies,” I say, “those two have been mucking around in somebody else’s playground. Other Bratvas who are not happy to hear it. Now that I have the proof, they’re ready to align with us.”
“I should feel something, shouldn’t I?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just told me that you’re going to wipe out the Ivanov line,” she says slowly. “I should feel… sad? Angry? Something? But I don’t.”
“I saw your expression when you realized your Da’ was in the Red Trade longer than you knew. You looked like you were going to be sick. Human traffickers are a pestilence that must be wiped out. I’m not a good man. But I’d never sell a human soul. And neither would you.”
The weak sunlight is shining through the window, lighting her skin, and making her glow. “This morning you said that if I’d known about those girls, I would have let you kidnap me and draw in my cousin willingly. You are right. I would have. You never trusted me enough to give me the chance. You want me to trust you, husband. So, prove it by trusting me. Whatever I know, however I can help, I’ll do it gladly. But ask me.”
I lightly tap my glass to hers. “Aye. That’s fair.” I feel shame for the first time in… I don’t know. Looking at her serious little face, I know I fucked up big, and an additional wedding in a bureaucrat’s office is not going to be enough to make up for it.
Chapter Twenty-One
In which the sex is so good.
Morana…
I’m lying face down on Cameron’s bed, and I can’t move. Not a toe. Not a finger.
He made good on his promise (threat?) to bring me home for another wedding night. There are floor-to-ceiling windows in the master bedroom, and pulling over one of his big armchairs, he placed it in front of them and lifted me to straddle him, still in my dress, ripping my undies off. He played with my center with his fingers while his other hand pulled down the top of my dress to lick and bite my nipples. When he decided I was wet enough to take him, he slid me down his dick, pushing on the small of my back to rub his piercing hard against my swollen clitoris.
“Shhh… let me do the work,” he whispered diabolically, not thrusting, just circling my hips, buried inside me so that his cock pushed against that wild bundle of nerves inside as the hard metal of his piercing stroked over my clitoris. Over, and over until I was nearly boneless with need and nearly crying for relief.
“So close…” I moaned and when I squeezed down on him, he slapped my ass hard.
“Don’t you try to make me cum,” he warned, gripping me tighter. Each time I started to contract against his cock buried inside me, he spanked me again. He spanked me raw and finally, that’s what sent me over the edge, weeping and biting his shoulder to bury my screams.
“My poor bride…” he’s leaning over me, running his warm hand against my sore ass. “I spanked you raw, didn’t I? I have something for that.”
