"Is this what you imagined?" I ask, rolling my hips in a way that makes his breath hitch. "Me in your chair, making decisions?"
His thumbs trace circles on my hipbones. "Better," he growls. "This is better than anything I could've imagined."
I lean forward, my hair falling around us like a curtain, creating a private world where only we exist. "They'll never see us coming," I whisper against his lips. "The ones who ordered it. The ones who tried to keep us apart." I rock against him, feelinghis cock twitch inside me. "We'll make them bleed for what they took from us."
His hands slide up my back, one tangling in my hair, pulling just enough to expose my throat to his mouth. "And what will you do when they're begging for mercy?" he asks, teeth grazing my pulse point.
"There will be none," I say simply, the words falling between us like a vow. "Not for any who stood in that chapel."
His rhythm falters for a moment, his eyes searching mine. I see the recognition there—the understanding that I am not the girl he once knew. That I have been forged in the same fires that tempered him.
"My beautiful, ruthless queen," he murmurs, his voice thick with something beyond desire. His thumb traces my lower lip, reverent. "Belfast won't know what hit it."
I increase my pace, watching his face contort with pleasure. The power of it—knowing I can reduce this dangerous man to desperate need—is intoxicating. I roll my hips in a way that makes him grip me tighter, his fingers leaving fresh marks alongside the ones from nights before I watch his eyes darken as I roll my hips deeper, claiming my power with each movement. The leather chair creaks beneath us, bearing witness to this new alliance forged in blood and truth.
"Do you feel that?" I whisper against his mouth, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "How perfectly we fit together?"
His hands slide up my back, pressing me closer, as if he could meld our bodies into one. "Always have," he murmurs, voice rough with need. "Even when you hated me."
"I never hated you," I admit, the truth breaking free after years of denial. "I hated what I thought you'd done."
He captures my mouth in a kiss that steals my breath, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance as old as time. When he pulls back, his eyes burn with a fervor that sends heat spiraling through me.
"They're waiting below," he reminds me, his hands never stilling on my body. "The men who took everything from us."
I don't slow my pace, savoring the way his breath hitches when I tighten around him. "Let them wait," I repeat, my voice dropping to a whisper as his hands tighten on my hips. "I want to savor this moment first."
"How will you do it?" he asks, voice low against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. His hips never stop moving beneath me, each thrust punctuating his question.
I know exactly what he's asking. Not if I'll kill them. But how.
I smile, leaning back just enough to watch his face. "What do you think, husband? With my knife?"
His hands slide up my sides, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts. "Too quick," he murmurs, eyes never leaving mine. "Too merciful."
"Then perhaps my gun?" I roll my hips deliberately, watching his pupils dilate further.
He shakes his head, a predator's smile curling his lips. "Too impersonal."
I lean forward, my mouth hovering just above his. "No," I whisper, pleasure building with each movement of our bodies. "I'll use my violin string."
His breath catches. Something dark and appreciative flashes in his eyes.
"I'll wrap it around their throats," I continue, my voice a silken whisper as I move on him. "The E string. The thinnest, sharpest one. It cuts through flesh like butter when pulled tight enough."
His breathing grows ragged, his thrusts more urgent. "And if that fails?"
I drag my nails down his chest, leaving red trails in their wake. "My bow," I tell him, watching his pupils dilate further. "The tip—sharpened.” I slide my fingers into his hair, gripping tight as our bodies move in perfect rhythm. "Between the ribs," I whisper, my voice catching as pleasure builds inside me. "A musician knows exactly where to find the heart."
His hands tighten on my hips, guiding me faster, deeper. "Christ," he groans, "you're magnificent."
I can feel him throbbing inside me, so close to the edge. I'm right there with him, my body tightening around his length as waves of pleasure build higher. His eyes never leave mine—blue fire burning into my soul, stripping away every lie, every secret.
"Tell me," he demands, voice ragged. "Tell me what you want."
"Everything," I gasp, rolling my hips in a way that makes him curse. "I want everything back that was stolen from us."
His hands slide up to my face, cradling it with unexpected tenderness. "It's already yours," he promises. "Everything I am. Everything I have."
