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She came to a quick stop.
Was she clean enough? She’d just showered at the main house but was she clean enough?
Back to pacing, thumbnail jammed between her teeth as his shower filled her mind and ears, along with glorious wet visions of him.
She was hyperventilating again.
And oh, how obvious it was. The way he put everything else on the back burner. The coming wrath was sure to follow. Very sure. He’d very calmly and purposely set that whipping stick to the side, making sure she saw he had. Kept it in plain sight. In reaching distance.
Her body and brain roiled on with the exuberance you might have when inheriting a billion dollars, or some royal throne.
She stopped in her tracks with a gasp.
Should she undress?
She looked down at the beautiful simple gown Mah-Mah had found for her. Black as her sins. But soft as his…perfect...silky...
The oh shit of two things struck her almost ill. She was wearing black to her wedding. And the shower had cut off.
No more time. No place to turn, no place to look but at that bathroom door.
The light shut off at the exact moment it opened. Like a dream swathed in mist, he stepped out. The moment she made out his form, the smells hit her. Dear God, what was that? Her pheromones named itcome let me fuck you this instant.
Mercy, he was coming for her. Straight for her. Ohhhh shit and glory, he was naked.
He stopped at a get-an-eye-full distance, his beautiful blue gaze as hard and lustful as the rest of him. Was like he wanted her to take a good look at what he was giving and what she was getting.
She did look. And she surely did know. Once her eyes started that journey, there was no stopping them. With her gaze still locked on his nearly levitating cock, her legs decided she needed a grand tour, moving her slowly around him.
His eyes briefly followed her as she went to his backside where she stopped to devour and drool over that wing tattoo. She had not gotten a long enough look before. And now she was jealous of the feather tips that seemed to caress his perfect butt. Christ almighty, she was on the verge of sweating when she made it back to the front view.
“Ma Cherie,” he barely said. The torment in his voice drew her gaze up to the most lethal thing about him. His eyes. “You’re crucifying me.”
Her mouth opened to protest or explain, giving only hot air. “I’m…I don’t…” She gave a gasp. “Tell me what to do.”
She watched him walk to the fireplace and sit in the chair. He held his hand toward her, and her legs immediately obeyed the call and took her to him.
His head tilted at her midsection before he brought his hot stare to hers. “Get naked, Ma Cherie.”
Her body and brain suddenly went in opposite directions as she considered the request. “I…should…maybe…”
He was slowly shaking his head.
“Bathe,” she finished on a single breath.
“Do you need help out of your dress?”
The question hit her poor brain as it collected Samuel-cock-facts. Was it the lighting, or was it a lot bigger than she remembered? And such a large, delicious vein. She remembered how hard and hot and silky it was the last time she'd pleasured him. And how utterly beautiful he looked in orgasm.
She jerked her gaze down to see what the hell she even wore. The black gown with the fifty buttons down the back. “Yes,” she whispered, regarding him again as he stood. “I need help with...”
He was circling her now and she fought to breathe when he stopped behind her. “These?” he whispered, dragging his finger down the row of buttons.
She gave a nod with her, “Yes,” then sucked in a breath when those hot fingers slid over her exposed neck and shoulders.
“Tell me you're ready for this, Ma Cherie.”
She closed her eyes with the warm words on her ear. “I am,” she hurried, not wanting him to doubt that. Even while there was all that other stuff to fight about, she wouldn't fight him with this. She wanted him forever and the sooner that fact was official, the better.
