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“Now,” I whispered, my mouth inches from her ear.
She shuddered, but she got up and ducked into her closet. When she returned, she wore a thin, linen dress that reached her ankles and split to reveal her legs and beautiful feet. The top tied over her breasts and up behind her neck. Leaving her lovely back bare.
The fabric would give way easily.
“Go on,” I ordered.
She gave me a quick glance, her hair falling wet down her back. Then she slipped into the hallway and I listened as her feet pattered away.
Rising, I went to the window to look down over the garden and the shore. The front door opened and her figure appeared, darting down the walkway. Moving easily like a deer through the shadows. The island was good to her and she’d adapted to it the way she’d adapted to me.
I flexed my jaw, my hands tightening on the window frame. We would go home when the time was right. When the usurpers had grown complacent and forgotten to keep watch for me. But I would never forget my wife like this. Healthy, finally eating without guilt, her skin warm at the end of the day.
She began making her way along the shore, heading for the path that led up the far hill. I put on my clothes and boots and went after her.
Her footsteps led me towards the orchard. It was early summer and the fruit was green and hard. But it still smelled sweet.
Like a gossamer thread, I swore I detected the faint champagne scent of her pussy through the trees. Luring me, teasing my imagination.
I didn’t run after my prey. I’d always taken a methodical approach to hunting. No, I would slowly walk her to exhaustion and take her on the hard ground, still warm from the midday sun.
The way she was made to be taken.
Through the darkness, her movement flickered like a burning candle in the dark. She darted through the trees, oblivious to me stalking just a few yards behind her. I’d hunted for a long time and I could walk without making a sound. The dusty ground was soft beneath my boots and the wind was blowing in my direction.
Not that she would detect my scent. She didn’t have to keep her senses sharp the way I did. She had me to protect her and I would die before I let anyone lay a hand on her again.
Her hips swayed, her body flitting through the shadows. We moved from the orchard to the olive grove. I’d watched her last fall, gathering olives in her basket with the twins following at her heels.
Fuck, I wanted to see her with her stomach round again. I wanted to fuck this woman until she was pregnant. There was nothing like the satisfaction of having her bring me that little positive test and knowing that I had done that. I’d put my child in the belly of this gorgeous woman.
But I had to respect her wishes. That didn’t mean I couldn’t fantasize about it, that I couldn’t tell her I was going to fuck her pregnant while I was balls deep in her cunt.
My shoulders relaxed.
Tonight, I would indulge my fantasy. Stalk her down until her legs gave way. Pin her to the dust.
She hesitated and froze like a frightened deer. Her heels turned and she spun on her beautiful feet in a slow circle to take in her surroundings. Her eyes were wide as they attempted to penetrate the darkness.
Her fingers slid up and gripped her forearms, hugging herself.
“Lucien,” she called softly.
I cocked my head, enjoying the sight of her fear. She swallowed and her mouth parted as she drew a quick breath and held it. Her big eyes shone glassy and her hands clenched into fists.
She whirled and her hair fell around her shoulders as she began hurrying through the dark. This time there was a new caution in her steps. Like she understood just how vulnerable she was out here in the open.
My cock twitched, watching her bare feet against the ground. Stepping lightly, the moonlight glinting from her anklet.
I shifted, adjusting myself. My erection pressed up against my zipper in a palpable ache. So sensitive it twinged up my spine as my hand grazed it through the fabric.
I needed my wife now.
Quickening my pace until I was striding, I left the shadows of the trees and stepped out onto the path. A stick cracked beneath my boot. She whirled and her eyes widened. Big, dark, and glassy with fear. Her fists clenched in her skirt and she pulled it up, revealing her ankles and feet.
Perhaps it was a submissive gesture, a flash of vulnerability instead of a white flag. If she was begging for mercy, it was having the wrong effect.
I cocked my head.
