Page 66 of Graciously His

She doesn’t reciprocate, and I remind myself of patience. Of how completely I’m about to take her, regardless of the words she won’t say.

“Is the water coming?” she whispers.

I nod and proceed, squeezing slowly and deliberately. She hums low, and I bring my forehead to Grace’s, sharing breath, savouring what I’m doing, wishing I could hold her throughout the whole process, though I know she won’t let me. Not yet.

A moment later, I’m finished and she bites her lip.

“Can you wait in the bedroom, please?”

“Make sure you’re feeling fully empty,” I say, “then come to me.”

“Yes.” A small smile plays around her lips. “All right.”

I take her consent—and my aching cock—into the bedroom to wait for her.

Chapter 26

Grace

I’m tingling after Nate leaves the bathroom with a final, dark-eyed look over his shoulder. I know he wants to stay and help me through the rest of this… procedure. The man is blasé about bodily functions that would send most people running, but he values hygiene.

I take my time, wondering how Nate always manages to transform my hesitation into agreement. I think this time it’s a combination of curiosity and precedent. All these mornings he’s woken me with pleasure alongside subtle, stretching demands. Part of me thinks I should feel less secure sleeping in his arms when he continually makes deviant advances; the larger part of me is greedy for every bit of affection he gives me, sexual or otherwise.

My grief has been suspended since Eileen confirmed the Coeliac diagnosis. Losing Nick—and Mother, by extension—is undermined by the fact that both of them were keeping me sick. Eileen’s evidence shut down the part of me that was grieving. Healing took precedence, my body and mind demanding a restitution that was inaccessible when Nick was my husband. My wellbeing is slowly becoming a reality, day by day.

The woman in the bathroom mirror is different from the one who arrived at Horseshoe Manor asleep. The chronic gauntness hasn’t been reversed, but there’s been a gentle gain that makes her cheeks seem less hollow. Unlike the grieving, sickly woman, she knows precisely what to expect from Nate.

I shiver and look away, feeling curious and a little scared. I realise that I trusted Nate enough to leave the door unlocked.

“Grace,” he says from the other side, his voice quite close.

Maybe he’s not as patient as he’s pretending to be.

I open the door and he’s there, eyes moving down my body, assessing. I’m wearing only a camisole and a pair of underwear, but I’m not uncomfortable. He traces the slope of my belly with his fingertips.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“Easier than I thought.”

“You made me wait.” He leans in, his chest crowding me a little. I stand my ground, breathing deeply as my nervousness spikes. “Good.”

“You like waiting?”

“Tease me anytime,” his hands drift up to cup my ribcage, “so long as you bring me what I want afterwards. To that end,” his hands move over my hips, then further back, “is this ready for me, Grace?”

I shrug, unsure now that the hard length of his cock is pressing against my belly. He’s big enough that our first time together hurt; I have little doubt that putting things in the wrong place might hurt even more.

“Will you go slow?”

He pulls me into a hug, warm and strangely comforting. “Until you’re begging me to go faster.”

“And,” I take a moment to breathe in his arms, “what if I change my mind?”

“Then we go to sleep.” He pulls back enough to look into my eyes. “I won’t ever use force during anal sex, Grace. Not until you’re a pro and even then, we’d need to talk things over very clearly beforehand and use a safeword.”

I shake my head, looking away. “That’s not what I was asking for, Nate, I was just—”

He kisses me quiet, his hands cupping my cheeks—then he pulls back before I’m ready.