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Zeno braceleted my throat and raised me so my decorated back pressed to his front. He poured more wax down the valley of my breast, over my stomach, and stopped at my mound, right before it reached the place where we were most intimately joined.
I cried out in pleasure and sweet pain, my head against his shoulder. “Oh my God.”
Zeno blew out the flame and shot the candle away. Then it was just us, two mortals, quenching their lust, crashing together like a storm, moving towards a new precipice.
He kissed me hotly while strumming my clit and holding onto my throat. I grabbed his hips from behind, as the pace turned dirty and ravenous. My husband sipped my soft moans and I basked in his rumbling groans as we neared oblivion.
“I want to come inside you,” he begged in a gravelly voice.
“Yes,” I pleaded. “I want it.”
Zeno whispered my name like a prayer.
In this chapel of ours, our heartbeats heightened, our mouths conquered, and ecstasy unveiled in the most arresting kaleidoscope as we came—a spark of colour across a white slate that portrayed that one perfect moment in time where heaven and hell melded together to create beauty.
Every piece on the chessboard wiped away as we fell together.
Zeno pulled out of me and turned me to my back. Our heavy breaths mingled as our eyes met evocatively. His hand travelled to my pussy, where his seed poured out.
“This is what it tastes like to be owned.” With two fingers, he scooped our joined releases and brought them to my mouth. I sucked, relishing the fruits of our labour, as I stared up at my husband’s intense face. He roved those fingers down to my jaw and squeezed. “You were never meant to walk away from me,mon ange.”
He sealed the deal with a kiss that curled my toes and sent shivers down my spine.
CHAPTER 19
Obsessed With You
Zeno
Obsession was the cruelest form of intrigue.
It rattled the inner workings of your mind, festering them in a way where every thought started and ended with your very fixation.
Darla Ivy Hill was the obsession I never wanted and yet, after one taste, I was undisputedly addicted to her.
I thought one night of earth-shattering sex would help get rid of the strange fascination I held with St. Victoria’s principal. I thought it would solve the mystery and we could go back to living our respective lives.
Problem was, now that I’d had her, I wanted her again.
And again.
And again.
One night hadn’t helped rid my addiction.
Itfedthe beast inside of me.
Morning light cut through the drapes encasing the bed. My wife slept soundlessly on her side, mouth kiss-swollen, and that dark, long mane of hers cast over the pillow like an inky cloud. True to her name, she looked angelic.
I woke up five minutes ago and could not stop staring at her.
My mind worked to commit every little detail to memory. I drew the sheets down to her waist so I could admire my artwork. She had hickeys and finger-shaped bruises all over her body because I’d been too edacious, too impatient for her. I took her multiple times last night and she never once backed down. Flashes of Darla attempting to ride me with that innocent, nervous look in her eyes had my cock rising like a flagpole.
It went against my nature, but I promised myself to be gentler with her. Last night, I’d been driven by jealousy—an emotion practically foreign to me until this woman tumbled into my life—and the fierce need to claim her after she’d given me blue balls for two months. I fucked her like an animal when I should have taken her slow, even if the former was what we both desired.
Every second of watching her sleeping form filled me with satisfaction, knowing I’d reduced her to this level of exhaustion. Darlawas so tired after the last round, I had to carry her into the shower. She’d leaned against me limply while I washed her body.
Now that we’d consummated our marriage, I wondered what kind of version she’d grace me with this morning: uptight principal with an attitude or the sexy little minx who’d made me come so hard, I forgot my own name.
