Callie nods without pause, her excitement as palpable as mine.
“Then you better get your things. Roger is bringing the car around, and we all know how much of a bore Roger is about tardiness.”
I laugh at Catherine’s comment before I can stop myself. I love Roger. He’s good at his job and has never once had any slip-ups like Hunter and Hugo, but the guy doesn’t have a snippet of a personality. Hugo was right. He has the personality of a wet blanket.
“Protecting my most valued possessions isn’t a laughing matter, Isabelle,” Isaac scorns, peering my way with narrowed eyes. “Besides, we all recall what happens when you grow a bond with the men paid to protect you. I’d hate for Callie to reach the same level of fascination.”
His dry, lowered tone shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. It has my thighs touching and a desperate need to get Catherine and Callie out of here as soon as possible. I’ve always said a jealous Isaac is as sexy as sin. I wasn’t lying. Jealousy may be hitting him hard in the gut as he recalls my kiss with Hugo, but it’s also unleashing his natural dominance. It is beaming out of him in invisible waves, making me the hottest I’ve ever been. I’m burning up everywhere and am five seconds from giving Catherine and Callie their marching orders in a not-so-polite manner.
Mercifully, Catherine is more clued-in than I give her credit for. It’s pretentious of me to believe her age has her incapable of reading the electricity crackling between Isaac and me. Even a saint wouldn’t be able to ignore it. That’s how red-hot it is.
“I shall have Roger call before we return tomorrow.” She cups Callie’s ears. “We wouldn’t want her to be irreverently scarred.” Her eyes shift to me. They have a twinkle in them I’ve always admired. “She may never forgive you when she realizes you own a portion of Isaac’s heart she’ll never reach.”
With that, she assists Callie with placing her backpack on, then suggests she hugs us goodbye. I’m not surprised when Callie races for Isaac first. He is her knight in shining armor, so he deserves the majority of her adoration.
When she finishes saying goodbye to him, which feels like a good two to three minutes, she moves to my side of the foyer. Just like Catherine, I lower myself to her level. She peers at me with her big brown eyes out in full force for what feels like minutes but is mere seconds before throwing her arms around my neck.
Tears prick my eyes when she whispers, “I love you, Izzy.” Her words stumble as much as my emotions are teetering, but there’s no doubt they’re the words she spoke.
Excluding Isaac, Callie has had difficulties expressing herself for the past six months. Dr. Avery assures us it’s normal for a three-year-old who’s been through what she’s endured, and with patience and understanding, she’ll slowly emerge from her cocoon.
She’s openly expressed her love of Isaac the past two months, but this is the first time I’ve been included in the equation. It affects me more than I care to admit and almost has me wanting to cancel her sleepover with Catherine, so I can pry it out of her a few more times. I would if she weren’t beaming with excitement. She’s looking as forward to tonight’s activities as I am, which frees me to send her off with a clear heart.
“I love you too, Callie Cat. Very much so.”
I squeeze her super tight, sucking in the smell of freshly shampooed hair and honey before releasing her from my hold, only partly pouting when she gives Isaac a second hug before skipping out of the foyer on Catherine’s heel.
Once they’re bundled into an idling town car, I shift on my feet to face Isaac, preparing to tell him how much it sucks that my sister loves him more than me. I’m only playing, but there’s a friskiness impinging the air, making me more daring than normal.
Before I can announce a single snippet of the fake annoyance scouring my face, my mouth is devoured by the most delicious pair of lips I’ve ever tasted in my life. Isaac kisses me as I’ve never been kissed before—a rousing mix of licks, sucks, and grazes of his teeth. To someone looking in, his kiss could appear savage like he’s aiming more to hurt than pleasure me.
I know that isn’t the case.
He’s worshiping me as only he can by taking as much as he’s giving. He’s often said I’m his eternal weakness, so isn’t it only fair he feeds off my strength?
The note I wrote him on New Year’s Eve when I stupidly believed I didn’t complete him as he does me, a crystal bowl, and a handful of valuable ornaments tumble to the ground when Isaac clears the entryway table with his arm. Once the items are scattered around our feet, he splays my backside where they once sat. With my work uniform comprising of black slacks and a buttoned-up shirt, Isaac will have to work on getting the top half of my body exposed long before he can commence tackling my belt.
“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away from you today, Isabelle? Your cheeks were inflamed, and your eyes were wide. If that weren’t bad enough, I could smell how aroused you were.” He sucks in deeply like he’s sniffing in the same scent now. “Knowing Ryan could see what I saw, smell what I did…” A growl finalizes his sentence.
“It has me wondering if this was a good idea. Perhaps I should chain you to my bed, only freeing you when I have an imperative decision to make.” My breaths quicken when the stubble on his chin grazes my neck. “Excluding the day I asked you to become my wife, I’ve never made more sound business deals as I have when you’re a part of the meetings. They, by far, exceed any transactions I’ve ever made.”
I can’t respond. The removal of my pants has rendered me speechless. He moved so nimbly, I hadn’t realized he had my belt undone, much less my button and fly. Once he has the thin black material huddled around my knees, he commands my eyes to his before tugging off my lace panties. It seems as if he is dragging the tip of his tongue up the seam of my pussy when he lifts my panties to his nose to inhale a large and undignified whiff through his nostrils.
“You smell so fucking good,” he moans on a growl.
With his pupils the largest I’ve seen them, he slips the scrap of material into his trousers pocket, then lowers his zipper. “I should be feeding you, Isabelle, but that needs to wait. I’ve been hard since you frisked me. I can’t wait a moment longer.”
I meow when he frees his cock from his briefs. He’s hard and long, extending well past the swell in my stomach. He shoves his trousers down somewhat aggressively before cupping my thighs, assuring he adds the extra snip of dominance I like in his grip.
His sexy voice adds to the stickiness between my legs when he says, “Wrap your legs around my waist and hold on. This is going to be hard and fast.”
After doing as instructed, he coats his crown with the glistening wetness between my legs. I’ve yet to come, but I don’t need to be physically stimulated to be wet. His face alone moistens my panties, much less how desirable he makes me feel. Isaac could have anyone he wants, but for some strange reason, he only wants me.
Our combined purrs of ecstasy bounce around the large foyer of our home when he enters me in one quick thrust. I call out, the sensation of being full to the brim too all-encompassing not to react. You’d think the more times he takes me, the easier it would be. That isn’t the case. It’s as if he grows thicker every time we fuck.
Once he has one hand weaved through my hair and the other soothing the sting rocketing through me by nurturing the aching bud between my legs, he slowly withdraws. My pussy sucks at him, forever begging to be filled by him. Its frantic squeezes have him entering me even quicker this time than he did the first. He’d never leave a single qualm of my inner vixen unvoiced. He knows her every want and has no hesitation fulfilling it at all times of the day and night.
He fucks me almost violently, bringing my screams to an ear-piercing level, and I love every minute of it. I meet his pumps grind for grind, growing wetter with each one we do.
