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"For someone who's quite controlled, you sure lost it." My wife bathes my knuckles. We’re back home after that shit-show.
To say Arthur was not happy with my behavior is putting it mildly. He glared at me, then pivoted and walked out of there with Tiny on his heels.
When the Great Dane refused to leave Arthur’s side, I decided to let him be. Apparently, the mutt has not only taken to my grandfather, but has also decided to adopt the old man as his current companion. Besides, the old man could do with the company. Then, there was Knox. The satisfaction on his face made me realize he’d been baiting me, and I had fallen for it. I lost my control for the first time since… Since I found outshewas in love with my best friend.
Then, Knox left. My other half-brothers didn’t bother to congratulate me. Except for the youngest, Kai. He's the only one who came up and congratulated me and my bride. Then he, too, left. Sinclair and our other friends gathered around us. He wanted to call a doctor to have my knuckles looked at, but I had refused. Instead, I told them Belle and I were leaving.
I should have apologized to them for the disaster of the evening, but all I could think of was to get out of there with her. To make sure no one else could see her in that dress. That possessiveness I always feel around her seems to have multiplied since I slipped the ring on her finger.
I need a little time and distance to understand why I reacted the way I did. I needed...to get my emotions back under control and back in the box I’ve sealed them in for so long. I turned away all other offers of help. I looked around for Tiny, but the pooch had decided to follow Arthur out. Apparently, I was also a shit dog-sitter; the mutt decided to cross over to my grandfather’s side. I shoved the thought aside and hustled Belle out of there.
She managed to toss her bouquet to the wedding planner and then, we were out of there. I drove us home, then went to my room. She followed me and insisted on cleaning my bruises. It seemed churlish to protest, so I let her. When's the last time someone took care of me? Perhaps, after the incident, when I found myself at the hospital. And then, it was the impersonal touch of the nurse. Belle’s touch, though, is gentle. She drops the blood-stained cloth, reaches for the antiseptic and glances at me from under her eyelashes. "This is going to hurt."
I don’t reply.
"Do you want some whiskey to help with the pain?"
When I stay silent, she firms her lips, then pours the antiseptic over the torn skin of my knuckles. I hiss out a breath, but the pain cuts through the remnants of anger. My mind finally slows down. I look on as she holds my palm between her much smaller ones, then she bends her head and blows on it. The burning sensation fades. When she looks up at me, our gazes hold. Color flushes her cheeks. The air between us heats. Her lips part, and I can’t take my gaze off her mouth. She swallows, and the pulse at the base of her throat accelerates. When I raise my free hand and dig my fingers into the thick strands of her hair and tug, she shivers. When I pull my bruised hand from her grasp and press my thumb to her lower lip, her breath hitches.
"So fucking gorgeous." I drag my thumb down her chin, the column of her neck to where her pulse flutters like a pinned butterfly. I continue down to where the neckline dips at her cleavage. She shudders. I hook my thumb in the cloth and tug. The delicate material rips.
She gasps. I expect her to cry out; instead, her pupils dilate. A low moan bleeds from her lips.
"So fucking alluring. You come across as all virginal, but you have a dark side."
She draws in a sharp breath, but doesn’t contradict me.
I slide my fingers inside her wedding dress and cup her breast, and goosebumps shiver up her skin. I pinch her nipple between my finger and thumb and when I tweak it, she cries out. The sound arrows to my groin, and my cock extends.
"So fucking beautiful. You’re a siren I can’t resist, despite my best efforts." I urge her down to her knees. She goes willingly, then looks up at me. There’s complete trust in her eyes. A submissiveness I knew she possessed, but seeing her at my mercy, waiting for me to command her, shoots a thick arrow of lust up my spine.
"Unzip me," I order.
"What?"
"You heard me."
She looks like she’s going to hesitate, then reaches up and undoes the button of my waistband. When she lowers the zipper, the sound of the slider over the metal teeth is loud in the silence.
"Take it out."
She hesitates. Her cheeks are pink; a fine sheen of sweat beads her upper lip. Nervousness is writ in every curve of her body, and fuck, if that doesn’t entice me more.
"Don’t keep me waiting, Belle."
She reaches inside my briefs and curls her fingers about my length. The blood drains to my groin. "Fuck." I tighten my fingers in her hair.
When she inches my briefs down enough, my cock springs free.
"Oh, my god." She stares at the throbbing length. I follow her gaze to where the bulbous head of my length stares back at her, the crown an angry purple, pre-cum clinging to the slit. The contrast between the dark skin and her pale pink-tipped fingers, which don’t meet around the girth, intensifies the throbbing ache at the base of my spine.
"You’re so big," she whispers.
My shaft twitches in response, and her gaze widens.
"So hard." She squeezes me from crown to base and back, and I almost come.
"Open your mouth," I snap.
