Impatience mounting, I use my free hand to undo my belt, rip at my pants and underwear and pull out my aching cock. Still moving against my palm and fingers, she reaches down and wraps her hand around the shaft.Jesus. The firm grip makes my cock tingle, igniting electric sparks along my back. She pumps her fist gently.
I claim her mouth again, thrusting inside with my tongue, and move my pelvis against her. My penis is happy to be imprisoned in the tight sheath of her hand.
I’m thirty-four, for God’s sake. But her touch, the warm female scent of her and the shaky sound of her breathing are all driving me insane.
She lets out a soft sound as she shudders one more time, and I let go and come into her hand. The pressure that’s been plaguing me since I walked into the city hall eases, and normally I would regain my composure, but no.I want more.I want to push into her, feel her convulse around me as her arms are looped around my neck, clinging, as her legs clasp me, taut and quivering, as my name falls from her lips in an endless scream.
My sane side tells me to get a grip. Going all the way right now would mean a possible pregnancy,and that can’t happen.
Luce rests her head on my shoulder as her breathing settles. The limo has been stopped for a while now, but the chauffeur waits in silence.
“Time to go,” I say.
She nods. I grab a fistful of Kleenex and dry her tenderly, although part of me wonders what the point is, since her underwear is soaked. But I want to clean her up. She’s my wife, and I don’t want her out in public in a disheveled state. I wipe the cum off her hand, then her dress and my shirt and tie. There’s a lot of mess, and I tidy both of us as much as possible, then signal the chauffeur that we’re ready.
He opens the door. I exit and extend a hand, which Luce grasps as she steps out. Searing satisfaction burns through me at her unsteady walk. Her cheeks are rosy, her artic-blue eyes glazed with the orgasms I gave her. Her lips are swollen and red, and everyone can see what we’ve been up to.
Except I don’t want anybody to see her pleasure-softened expression. That’s reserved only for me—her husband. Several men look at her covetously, like dogs would a piece of meat.
I put my arm under her knees and scoop her up, positioning her so her head rests against my shoulder. She buries her face, and her fingers squirm against my chest, betraying her unease.
But what could she possibly be anxious about? She has what she wants. If she’s embarrassed about what we did in the limo…well, it’s too late now.
I carry her through the terminal. The one reserved for private jets isn’t as crowded as the main one, but SFO is still a busy airport.
“Aren’t I too heavy?” she asks, the words tentative and muffled.
Thatwas what was making her nervous? I seriously wish I could peer inside her head. “Valkyrie, you could quadruple in size and you still wouldn’t be too heavy.”
She doesn’t respond. But her fingers stop moving. If she says anything, I don’t hear her over the voices of the crew wanting to confirm the flight’s final details. As more people move around us, Luce grows tense in my arms.
The irritating, frustrating wall is back in place. Part of me wants to smash it right now, but the cool air out in the hangar wipes away the whiskey haze in my head.I’ve already given in to impulse with her.
I look down at the woman in my arms—my wife. The need to coddle her and the need to even our scales wage a battle.
Neither comes out a clear winner even after we arrive back in L.A.
Chapter 12
Lucienne
I didn’t give enough thought to the marriage,I decide as I lie in my bed alone, in the dark.
For me, marriage has always been just a means to an end—a way to claim my independence. That outcome consumed me until all I could do was keep my eye on the prize.
What I didn’t consider was what the marriageentails.
I shouldn’t have talked about separate bedrooms, sex toys or Sebastian being discreet so blithely. On the other hand, I’ve never had any expectations about a perfect marriage—not for myself, anyway. I’ve never sighed over a wedding dress, or daydreamed about what it’d be like to have a loving spouse and family, because none of that felt attainable. After all, I grew up watching Mom and Roderick.
But something’s bugging me, and I can’t fall asleep. It’s like there’s a small lump underneath the mattress that I can’t get rid of.
Then I finally figure it out.Sebastian wants my body, even though he’s in love with another woman.
Gabriella Ricci. The woman even his own father says is exactly his type. Somebody I could never emulate.
I’ve been feeling guilty, but now something else is eating at me. A particular mélange of self-recrimination and shame that maybe I’m a horrific combination of Gwen and Mom—the body that Roderick couldn’t ignore, and the money he couldn’t give up.
It’s a relief to know that Sebastian won’t be cheating on me, but I hate it that the relief is there at all. Even though I’m legally his wife, I feel like the other woman.
