She pushes two fingers into herself. I watch them disappear then move in and out. She’s trying to reach the spot I can, get the fullness I’ve given her. She can’t achieve either on her own, but it’s enough to keep her on the edge, frustrating her. She sobs softly. “Oh my God. I can’t.”
“What do you need in your pussy, wife?”
She shakes her head, and the motion makes her breasts swing. I pinch the nipples, tugging them. She arches her back,pushing her ass against my erection. A fine sheen of sweat glints on her beautiful body, and I kiss the lovely slope of her shoulders and back.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You,” she says in a breathless whisper.
I rub the tip of my cock against the opening of her pussy, then glide forward until the ring grazes against her swollen clit, earning a gratifying shiver from her. “Say it again.”
“You,” my wife chokes out. “I belong to you.”
“Don’t you ever forget it.” I drive into her, feel her muscles spasm around my thickness. She lets out a strangled cry, her head thrown back, exposing her vulnerable neck to my touch. I wrap my hand around it, feel her veins pulsing with life and need.
She convulses after only a few pumps. I thrust into her with more speed and power, making her whole body shake. My fingers dig into the sweet curve of her pelvis, and I cup her breast, teasing the pointed tip. She twists her head back, and I kiss her deep and hard, our tongues tangling.
Only one word pounds in my head as I pick up the tempo:mine, mine, mine.
And she whimpers, our mouths pulling apart. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chants to the beat of the word in my head. Or maybe I’m saying it out loud. Impossible to tell with blood roaring in my ears, pleasure tingling at the base of my spine, then pooling in my cock. It thickens and hardens further inside her, and she spasms around me, gripping me hard.
My control snaps. I drive into her one last time and shoot my cum into her, just like I promised. She goes boneless in my arms, resting her back against my chest and struggling to breathe. But the possessive, jealous beast inside me isn’t satisfied. Not really. It’s chafing that there’s a better way to mark her mine.
Warm fluid trickles down our legs, and I dip my fingers into it. Then I stand her up straight and write MINE down the front of her torso. The writing shows even in the dark window.
Better.
Then I spin her around, capture her mouth and start all over again.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Grace
Am I in bed?
I blink in the dimly lit bedroom. The last thing I remember about last night is climaxing until I lost count and nearly passing out on the kitchen counter. Huxley was insatiable and determined to make a point, as though sex could make everything better.
Granted, I love having sex with him. He’s amazing in bed…or in front of a window. He does things that make me lose my mind—a way of mastering my body that’s as addictive as heroin. When he said Adam could be watching us, it made me tremble with trepidation and anticipation.
But—great as it is—sex doesn’t solve any of the other issues between me and Huxley: his resentment and his hot-and-cold reactions. He doesn’t get to act hurt and ignored after texting what he texted about the doctor’s appointment. He doesn’t get to make a declaration that he’ll be present for our baby, which left me speechless and dumbfounded. Annoyance surges that he flung it at me last night the way he did. It was a beautiful and honorable sentiment, the kind that would’ve brought me relief and even joy if he just hadn’t delivered it like that.
Still, it’s a new day. I don’t want to argue or fight, and what Adam did was clearly out of bounds. I don’t know why he had to provoke Huxley on our wedding night. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was purposely trying to hurt me. Huxley didn’t deservethat sort of confrontation, not after being so generous and kind to me.
Be the bigger person. Offer an olive branch.
To find the recording of the baby’s heartbeat, I reach for my phone. Several texts fill my screen.
–Adam: GG, I’m so sorry. Did I say anything stupid last night?
–Adam: Are you okay?
–Adam: Did he take it out on you?
–Adam: Please. I have to know. I’m so sorry.
I heave a long, heavy sigh. My first instinct is to say it was fine—but it wasn’t. What he did wasn’t just inappropriate, it could’ve irreparably damaged Huxley’s and my relationship. This is no love match with a strong foundation. Huxley is a proud man who’s upset at being stuck in a situation he never wanted to be in. Although I make my own money and no longer have to beg anybody to pay for Mom’s care, it’s painfully obvious that Huxley is the one with more power in our marriage. If he wants to, he can make my life very unpleasant, regardless of any resistance I might put up along the way. He might even try to take the baby away. The prenup means nothing because all the court needs to do is look at me and him. He’s from a powerful family, well connected and wealthy. I’m the opposite.
It’d be so easy for him to convince the world he’s the better option, and that I’m just a gold digger, hoping for a big payday.
