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“I love you,” I bluster into his mouth, holding his face in my hands so hard that my fingers blanch, stealing some of the ruddiness from his cheeks with the force of my hold. “I love you.”
“You’re my heart,” he tells me in reply, deepening inside me.
As he holds my stare, lips puckered on the tip of my nose, he meanders his hand from my jaw, down to my breast. He swirls his thumb around my hard nipple, again and again as his thrusts become jagged, his kicks unsynchronised beneath us. The water lapping and lapping, the breeze blowing over us—I can feel it all as my pussy pulses around his dick. My entire being is brought to life as he fists my breast so harshly that the bite of pain frissons down to my core, and he nips the tip of my nose, pushing me down fully onto his cock.
I fall apart, breaking into so many pieces that the world fades and brightens all at the same time. It’s all bright blue ocean drowning me and bright white sun scorching me from every angle.
“Fuck, Swan,” Freddie grunts in my ear, the growl raking through me as I shake and shudder over him.
All I need is for him to fill me. Fill me until I’m overflowing with all of him. His darkness and his hurt. His violence and his love. I want him to fill me until all there is of me is him. Him inside me. Him around me. Only him.
A sharp gasp pulls into his lungs, and his mouth crushes to mine so hard that his groan echoes through me as his hot cum scorches my insides. In my pleasured haze, the murmur of the waves slurs, leaving only his soft whisper as he wraps his arms around me and our legs tangle beneath us.
“I love you, Swan.”
“I love you, my lord.”
Freddie smiles, and my world is complete. My world is happy as he stares back at me. Kicking. Swimming. My world is still spinning. Fighting. For him. For me. For us. And I fall. I fall in love all over again. Harder and deeper.
* * *
The dress is short. So short that not only is the graze on my thigh on show, but I’m certain that the slightest movement will show the entire pub what I had for breakfast.
“You’re fidgeting.” Freddie points out as we follow the maître d’ to the table reserved in one of the private bay-windowed areas that are curtained off. “Is something wrong?”
“Wearing one of Fleur’s dresses possibly wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made.”
Pausing in front of me, he releases my hand and turns to look at me, taking the time to properly ogle me. The same look lights up his face as he had when I met him downstairs after Arabella had finished using me as her very own dress-up doll.
“I forgot she used to fit in those clothes.” He shrugs before he adds, “You look hot, like I’m going to be hanging out of the back of you later.”
I burst out laughing at his remark, which earns us side glances from the people around us. From the look he gives the table with a group of guys, I can see this will get ugly if I don’t move him along.
“Word of warning,” I say, threading my arm through his and moving forward. “Don’t ever say that in front of Fleur—she’ll tear you to shreds.”
“What did I say that’s so bad? She’s been preggo the last what? Two years?”
“She’s been pregnant twelve months if you don’t count the gap in between Grace and baby number two.”
“Seems like forever.” Pausing by our table, he waits for me to slip into our small nook before he slides in behind me. “Whatever, good luck to them.”
The nonchalance and detachment in his comment hits me right in the chest. All this time I’ve been imagining babies and kids, but I have no idea if that’s something he actually wants. If he doesn’t, I don’t know how I feel about that. Up until now, kids haven’t been a factor I’ve given much thought; however, I’ve always known that I wanted to have a family of my own. Someday.
The maître d’ leaves with our drink order. A glass of Veuve, my favourite champagne, for me and a pale ale for him.
“Freddie?” I twist to face him so I can get a read on him and his body language. This isn’t something I want to escalate into an issue. At least not tonight, but now that I’m thinking about it, I might as well address it.
“Georgina,” he utters quizzically.
“What do you want for yourself outside of the band of brothers?”
“Band of brothers?” The low chuckle vibrates from him; however, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“What do you want just for yourself? I…I want to get married someday, and I want to have a family. Maybe a dog that will keep said family in line.”
A soft smile flits over his lips before he asks, “And your career?”
Fuck, I’ve thought about a million things the last few days. Not one of those things was my career or dancing. It feels wrong to think about moving on and carrying on when Jordan’s done. The world won’t ever know how incredible he was.
