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“Itisa little warm in here,” I say as teasingly as I can manage. “And it does make me a little nervous, having a fire going while we’re asleep.”
Theo shrugs. “I’ll put it out then.” He leans over, brushing his lips unexpectedly over my cheek, and gets up to walk to the fireplace, still naked.
I have to pull my gaze away from him and focus on what I’m supposed to be doing. He’s handsomely muscled all over, lean and fit, with an ass meant for grabbing as he thrusts. I find myself enjoying the sight of him crossing the room, walking to the fireplace as I fumble for one of my earrings.
This morning, I sharpened the point of the hook on one of them, enough to drive it into my finger and make a small prick. I slip it out, knowing if Theo notices, I can just say I’m taking my jewelry off before bed, and before I can think twice about it or he can look back and see what I’m doing, I drive it into the index finger of my right hand.
The pain is sharp and immediate, and I bite my lower lip to keep from making a sound as I set the earring aside, reaching for the other one as I press my fingertip to make it bleed.
It’s not much, but Lilliana said a few drops would be enough. As I set my other earring aside, I reach down between my legs, pressing my finger against the sheet and wincing at how damp it is. Theo came hard in me—but I know for a fact it’s not all him, and I feel embarrassed all over again at how much he made me want him.
He puts out the fire, the room darkening without the glow of it, only the moonlight outside illuminating the room now. When he comes back to bed, a dark shadow, I feel my body tightening all over again despite myself.
I hope he’s going to go to sleep. But he slips beneath the blankets, reaching for me, and I feel dread and anticipation mingle together as he reaches to run his fingers through my now-tangled hair.
If he wants me again, I should say no. I should beg off, say I’m too tired, too sore.
But the problem is—I’m not sure if I want to.
Theo
My new bride is far more intoxicating than she should be.
I could see how afraid she was from the moment she joined me at the altar. It wasn’t what I wanted for her—fear. I could understand why—my family worked hard over the years to build a reputation that would incite the fear of anyone who knew about us. It was what my grandfather and father believed, the best way to hang on to what they’d built—no,carvedout of blood and sweat…their own, and others.
But I don’t want my wife to be afraid of me. I never intend to give her any reason to be.
I’d done everything I could to reassure Marika throughout our wedding and reception. I wanted to be gentle with her, slow, to show her that I intended to treat her with the respect and care she’s owed by virtue of who she is, even if there’s no love between us. My brutality is reserved for those who deserve it, and Marika does not.
It was hard to take things slowly once I had her in my bedroom.
It had meant something to me, to bring her back here to my home instead of a hotel room—to start our marriage here in the bed that we will now share, to begin things as I hope that they’ll go on in the future. The fact that Marika hadn’t been off-put by it, or felt that I was cheating her of something by not taking her to a luxury hotel, made me feel markedly better about it all.
Butgod, once I had her in here, so close to being able to be inside her—
It had been so hard not to fuck her the way I’d craved. If she hadn’t been a virgin…
I would never have hurt her. But even now, as I run my fingers through her hair in the darkness, knowing that if I want her again, I will need to go slowly and carefully, that she must be sore—I still want to ravage her. Something about her rouses a strange possessiveness in me that makes me ache in ways I’m not familiar with, and if I’m being honest…it unsettles me.
I’ve never felt this way about any woman. That’s not to say I haven’t enjoyed rough, hard sex in the past—but I’ve never felt this clawing, possessive need to fuck a woman in a way that feels as if I’m claiming her, making her mine, hard enough for her to feel the imprint of my cock in her body if it were possible.
It doesn’t even entirely make sense, because Marika couldn’tbeany more mine. I’m her first—and I will be her only. My cock, the pleasure I give her, will be all she ever knows.
That, too, is something that I didn’t expect to be as aroused by as I am.
I draw her closer, wanting to kiss her again. If she’s not ready for more, I tell myself, that will be fine. I want to feel her soft mouth, and my cock throbs as I think of when I’ll finally get to feel it on my cock—those soft, full lips tight around my aching length—
Marika lets out a soft gasp as she feels me brush against her lower belly. I’m hard already just from thinking about the possibility of fucking her again, the idea of her mouth around me, and her hand comes up to touch my chest as I draw her in for a kiss.
I wonder if she’s going to try to push me away. I have no intention of forcing her—in time, if she’s not willing often enough for me to get an heir, we’ll have to discuss it. But I’m not going to fuck her unwillingly.
Butgod, I hope she’s fucking willing.
My hand presses lightly against the back of her head as I kiss her, my tongue urging her to part her lips, and she resists for only a second before she makes a low, soft sound in the back of her throat, her mouth opening for mine. I wonder if it’s innocent shyness, if she’s been taught that she’s not meant to enjoy her husband’s touch—or what she’s been taught at all. I’m aware that her mother died when she was young—too young to have learned much about what her future would be in a marriage. I can’t imagine that her father taught her much more.
But the world we live in rarely values a wife’s pleasure in a marriage, and I can imagine Marika might have picked up some ideas about that along the way.
“Can you take me again, lass?” I ask her, sliding my thumb over her cheekbone. My cock throbs against her belly as I say it, underscoring my desire, and I hear that soft intake of breath from her again.
