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Mine, like no one else ever had been.
Eoghan had it right—the possessive fucker.
Shit changed when they took on your last name, and even though I’d known her for barely any time at all, I’d known of her for a good long while. I’d seen her pictures when she was a kid. I’d seen her similarities to her mother, and that had been something I imagined would be off-putting. Instead, it showed me the truth.
Mariska was quartz, masquerading as a precious gem, aware of her powers, unashamed of her ability to seduce.
Camille was a diamond masquerading as quartz, unaware of her powers, ashamed of her body, ill-at-ease with it.
I’d been a project to Mariska.
Camille wasmyproject. Except, this project would last until death did us part, which I couldn’t deny shoved shit up a notch.
Still, if there was a woman to lose your head over, it was your wife, wasn’t it?
Dragging off the dress and the boxer briefs she’d borrowed, I stripped her down until she was bare, then I undressed myself too.
Moving with her so that we were both under the spray, I grabbed the bottle of soap and began to clean her. Making suds with it, I smoothed it along each of her limbs, letting her feel my touch everywhere. Her head stayed bowed, from shyness or appreciation, I didn’t know, but she acquiesced to my touch.
When I cleaned her tits, she peered up at me through a mop of wet gold hair, and when I slid my hand between her legs, she bit her lip, her fingers moving over my chest, the tips and the edges of her nails digging into my pecs.
It was the wrong thing to do.
Feeling those nails against my skin, I realized she shaped them in a way that would turn them into pincers against her cut palms, and the red mist that overcame me was something that ashamed me just as it pissed me off that she could do this to herself.
When she was cleaned up from the cum I’d drenched her in this morning, I grabbed the chrome accessory that was the detachable shower head, turned it on, then I pressed it between her legs.
She leaped up onto tiptoe, her eyes flaring wide as they caught mine.
“When you were a teenager, did you have a boyfriend?”
She’d said she was a virgin until she chose to whore herself out to the MC who I had to force myself to remember were fucking allies, but had she fooled around any?
“No. Father wouldn’t allow it. Didn’t want to risk my sale price,” she said bitterly.
“Did you sneak around?”
Shadows of the fear she’d felt back then drifted into her gaze. “Are you being serious? And get him killed and me whipped? No way.” Her mouth twisted into a sad smile. “Anyway, I was a bitch back then. No guy wanted me.”
I snorted at that. “Guys don’t care if you’re a bitch. They just look at your ass and want between your legs.”
“Well, evidently not. I didn’t have to fight them off.” She shrugged. “I had small tits.”
“So? Not everyone’s a tit man.”
She peered up at me. “Are you?” Before I could answer, a sharp gasp escaped her. “Oh, God!”
My grin, I’d admit, was smug. “Just started to feel it, huh?”
Her nails dug into my chest once more. “Christ, yes.”
The pain of her touch had me seeing red again. I watched as her focus started to drift to what was going on between her legs, and just when she started to rock her hips, I moved the flow of the water away.
She peered up at me, and her beseeching glance, however faint, had me pressing a kiss to her temple.
“You’re clean now,” I rumbled. “Don’t get dirty today.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she rasped.
