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"You mean Baron?"
I nod. "I didn’t want to see any of the Seven, either. They’d been my constant companions since our school days. We went through…a lot together. It formed a bond between us. But after Ava and Baron got together, I couldn’t stay in London. I wanted them to be happy. I’m the one who told Ava to go back to Baron—"
"You did?"
"It was clear she loved him more. I had my chance and I lost it when I left her. I needed time to get my head on straight. I was a priest and I'd sinned. Everything inside me told me I was in the wrong, but I couldn’t reconcile it with how I felt when I was with her. It was a mindfuck."
She reaches out for me, and I hold up my hand. "Don’t touch me."
Her features fall.
Fuck.I squeeze the bridge of my nose. "I just… Let me get this out while I can Belle."
She nods, then tucks her arm into her side.
"I left her. I told Baron to watch out for her and I left. When I came back, I realized they had fallen in love. I saw them together, and I knew I couldn’t be all the things she needed. I knew I wasn’t in any space to hold down a relationship. How could I, when I hadn’t figured out who I was and what I needed? She chose me. She even moved in with me, but seeing her face every morning, realizing how much she missed him, I told her to return to him."
"You did?"
"What Baron felt for her… It was different. He adored her. He wanted to take care of her. He needed her, and she leaned on him. They turned to each other in my absence and discovered they completed each other. I couldn’t stand in their way."
"So you sacrificed your own happiness?"
"I did no such thing. I knew I couldn’t be happy until I’d dealt with my own devils, so I walked away from them."
"Oh, Eddie." She wraps her arms about herself, and I notice the goosebumps on her skin. I scoop her up in my arms and walk out of the shower stall.
"What are you doing?" she squeaks.
"You’re cold." I manage to grab a couple of towels on the way out, and when I reach the bed, I lower her to the ground. I dry her shoulders, her breasts, her waist, her thighs, down to her feet, then back up to her core. I pat it, then say around the ball of lust in my throat, "Spread your legs."
She does.
I slide the edge of the towel over her slit and back again.
She moans.
I do it again, and she shudders. The sweet scent of her arousal bleeds into the air, and I feel my cock stand up and salute her.Fuck.Can’t keep my hands off of her, can’t keep my gaze off of her pussy. If only I could spend days buried inside her tight cunt, I might get this insane need to rut into her every time I’m near her out of my system. A-n-d, who am I kidding? The more time I spend with her, the more I want her, the more I can’t let go of her. I’ll never get enough of her, and that is the truth. And when she finds out my truth, she’ll hate me. And I can’t let that happen. I can’t. I let the towel drop to the bed, then I lift her up and throw her on it.
52
Mira
"Hold yourself open for me," he growls.
Fish in the snow, his words are hard and demanding and… I can’t say no. I manage to widen the space between my legs, then reach down and hold open my pussy lips.
"Good girl."
I’m not ashamed to say, I almost climax. Just from his words. The way he says it, it makes me feel like the most special person in the entire world, and the luckiest. He stares at my glistening cunt—I can feel the moisture gathering at my slit—then reaches down and squeezes his cock from base to tip. It’s the first time I’ve seen my husband without a stitch of clothing, and the reality far surpasses my dreams. Sculpted shoulders, corrugated chest, concave waist, not to mention, the eight pack he sports like he works out every day, and those thick powerful thighs without an inch of fat on them. He’s pure muscle, all the way down to his calves and his bare feet. Something about his feet shoots my blood pressure through the roof. I have a foot fetish—correction I have an Edward fetish. He widens his stance, and my gaze is drawn up to where he massages his thick cock once more, all the way to the crown. There’s a vein running up it, and moisture drips from the slit.
"Put three fingers inside yourself," he commands.
"Th-three?"
He merely arches an eyebrow.
I swallow as my heart descends to the space between my legs. The blood roars so loudly in my ears, I'm sure the sea has risen all the way to the top of the lighthouse. I slide three fingers into my opening and pause.
