"Don't be shy, darling," he soothes, sliding two fingers inside me and growling his approval as he stroked the rough pads of his fingertips inside me. "You're so silky here, you taste sweet andslightly salty." Ignoring my flustered whine, he uses his deepest, most persuasive tone. "And when I press against you, just so..."
"OH! God!"
My ears are ringing from that orgasm and I barely hear his pleased chuckle as I come on his fingers. "...such sweetness. Delicious."
I cover my face again. “I canna believe I just… really? Finish within sixteen seconds?”
“More like ninety seconds or so,” my husband says soothingly, then set to work again, sliding his hands under my arse and gripping it tightly, lifting me closer to his mouth. He alternates long, tiger-like licks on my pussy with sucking my overwhelmed clit between his lips and toying with it with his tongue. His fingers flex on my skin and his growl vibrates against my clitoris, still held by his lush lips and my heels dig into his back as I come again. I slide my hands into his thick hair and pull it as my back arches.
“Please, husband, I canna…”
He lifts his head to give me a devilish smile. Aye, just like I thought before, this manisSatan. He is the Dark God of Sex and… His lips fasten around my clit and I feel him slide two fingers inside me, and he very carefully scratches my G-spot with his fingernails as his teeth scrape against my pearl.
The explosion is overwhelming, I’ve never felt anything like it. Tremors from my arms and legs make me shake as I scream in surprise and then again, overwhelmed by the feeling of that delicate scratch inside me. Clutching him to me, I hold on, trying to not writhe off the bed. I feel weightless. Overwhelmed, and the orgasm is followed by another.
“Yes,” he whispers in my ear, “indisputably, a screamer.”
I’m too weak to cover my face in embarrassment.
Checking his watch, he sighs, rising from the bed to fetch a cloth from the connected bathroom.
“What about…” I gesture awkwardly at his very prominent stonner. It reaches clear to his belly button and it’s hard and hot against his abdomen, veins throbbing.
Finishing with the cloth, he throws it back into the bathroom. “My what, darling?”
“You know…” I’m married, I’m his wife and I still can’t say the word in front of him. Not so casually!
“No, I don’t,” he kisses my jaw. “What do you mean?”
“I canna do the dirty talk on command!” I say defensively. “I must work up to it.”
Kissing my breasts, he helps me off the bed before dressing rapidly, wincing slightly as he tucks his rebellious stonner back in his boxer briefs. “We only have time for one of us to come, darling, and today, it is you. I enjoyed bringing you off.” He reaches around me, zipping up my dress. “There is nothing prettier than when you come for me.”
It’s clear that we’re at war when we exit the jet and find four black SUVs waiting for us, dark-suited men carrying weapons, looking around us warily. I know the signs. Extra security, heightened awareness, weapons already drawn.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” I whisper to Alastair. “Has Zhang killed any of our people?”
When did they become our people?I think. I don’t know, but they have been since they risked their lives for me.
“He did on our wedding night,” he says, jaw tight. “We’re keeping him busy until our plan is set.”
He’s going to hate this. “We could ask my brothers-”
“Not another word,” he interrupts me, lifting me into the middle car and fastening my seat belt.
Waiting until we’re in motion and the privacy screen is up, I try again. “I know you hate them, but like it or no, our families are connected now. They would be here in a moment.” I chew my lip. “After Cormac punches you in the face, a’course.”
“Of course,” he says dryly.
“Can ya’ tell me anything? Please?”
“There’s nothing for you to be concerned about,” he says, taking out his cursed phone and starting a text.
I must be feelin’ reckless because I put my hand over his phone’s screen. “I’m from a family like yours. I know what going to war looks like. You can talk to me. Maybe I’ve got nothing to offer, but maybe I do, aye?” He lifts my hand off his phone. “Is it because you think I’m fragile? Weak?” He doesn’t look at me.
All the progress we made on the island feels like it’s drifting away like smoke, leaving me with a clear view of his cold, composed expression. I want to smack his face, just smack his gorgeous face, and force the Alastair I like to come back. I want to call my family. I want him to fecking talk to me instead of shielding me like I’m some feeble pillow princess who canna handle the hard things.
Instead, I fold my hands in my lap and look out my window until we reach the penthouse.
