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“So fucking tight and wet, love,” I moan as my cock jerks inside her as I get closer to coming.
I pull out, flip her over again, and slam back into her. When I come inside my wife, I want to look into her eyes.
“I love you,” I tell her as I continue to thrust.
“I love your heart.”
Thrust.
“I love your smile.”
Thrust.
“I love the way you moan when I’m inside you.”
Thrust.
“I love everything about you.”
I crash my mouth against hers, our tongues dueling with each other as I deepen the kiss. I grasp her neck, yanking her to me so that were chest to chest. My thrust turns slow, torturous, and she moans again. It doesn’t escape my notice that she doesn’t say it back. I’ll give her time. She doesn’t have to say it right now. I’ll do everything in my power to get her to love me, even if I spend the rest of my life trying.
“Damien,” she moans in frustration because my slow thrusts aren’t enough.
Her breathy moans do me in, and I think about the attack on her. How, if those asshole had succeeded, I wouldn’t be here inside my wife right now. I feel a savage desire to claim her. To fuck her so hard and so deep that every inch of her knows it’s mine. I drink the ecstasy from her lips and relish the feel of her soft curves in my hand. I lean back, grab her ass, and increase my pace. She clamps hard around my dick as she orgasms again. Her lips part, and needy sobs break free, mixing with moans as pleasure takes over her body.
I’ve never been so ravenous for her, and no matter how hard, how deep I go, I can’t get enough. I’m starting to think that no matter how many times I fuck my wife, it will never be enough. I’m addicted to her pussy. I feel tingles of pleasure flow down my spine. My balls tighten, and I swell inside her, preparing to give her the biggest load I’ve ever given her. If she weren’t already pregnant, this would definitely do the trick.
That last thought causes me to erupt. I snarl and pound inside her as I empty my seed into her depths. My arms tighten around her, and I drop my head to her shoulder as I come so fucking hard, I swear I see stars.I inhale deeply as I drag my nose over her skin. She smells like sex. Like me. I pull out of her, and we fall onto the bed, side by side.
Isabella's breathing steadies into the rhythm of sleep and the room is calmed by her peaceful presence. The afterglow of our fervent union still lingers on my skin, but there's an ache in my chest that hasn't subsided. She hasn't said it back. The three words that would bind her to me as I am irrevocably hers.
As I listen to the gentle cadence of her slumber, I promise myself again. I will spend every day showing her the depth of my affection, proving that my love is not just a fleeting emotion but a steadfast commitment. I know Isabella holds a tenderness for me in her heart, possibly skirting the edges of love, and that is a flame I vow to nurture until it matches the inferno in me.
The shrill ringing of my phone breaks the silence of the night, and my eyes snap to it immediately. Careful not to jostle Isabella, I slide out from the sheets, stealing a glance at her peaceful face. I pick up the phone from the nightstand, the screen's glow the only light guiding me through the darkness.
"Speak," I grumble into the phone with a low voice to keep from waking her.
I hastily grab my clothes and slide into my pants with swift movements. The cool fabric against my heated skin feels abrupt and alien after the warmth of our closeness. I button my shirt, not bothering with the precision I usually take. I snatch up my shoes, deciding against lacing them, and slip into them as I make my way toward the secrecy the night holds, leaving the serenity of her sleeping form unbroken.
"Boss, it's Victor. About the shredded papers..." There's a pause hanging in the air before he continues. "We've got nothing. Someone made damn sure to mix up the important stuff with a load of bullshit."
I clench my jaw as a curse slips between my lips, "Are you kidding me? And the Nightingales?"
Victor exhales wearily. "They're like shadows, Damien. We've got credible intel they're in town, but they might as well be ghosts."
Another curse escapes me, terse and biting. "Keep your eyes peeled. We can't let our guard down, not now."
"Got it," he says.
We end the call, and I'm already moving toward my office. If it weren't for my brother's damn betrayal, war wouldn't be at my doorstep. Yet that same betrayal brought Isabella into my life. Now, she's more than a presence in my bed. She's my wife, the mother of my child, the woman who owns my heart. Can I stay angry at Jackson for that? It's a debt I'll never be able to repay.
I stride into my office with the remnants of anger and frustration still burning through my veins. With a swift turn, I pour myself a drink. Each drop seems to echo in the silence of the room. I tilt the glass, letting the amber liquid coat the ice before bringing it to my lips. The smooth burn is a temporary distraction from the chaos that threatens to spill from my thoughts.
I wander over to the balcony doors and push them open, inviting the night breeze to sweep into the stifling stillness of the office. It's a welcome caress against my skin, and I close my eyes for a moment, allowing the coolness to temper the heat of my anger. The sounds of the nightlife filter through the open space. It's a world apart from the one within these walls, and for a brief moment, I let it enthrall me, offering an escape from the imminent threats and the weight of my duties.
Settling in my chair, I decided to power through some work, letting the soft clicks of the keyboard fill the void of the night. With Isabella's love in my hands and our future unwritten, I'm struck by the paradox of it all. Out of chaos has come the greatest gift. Before long, I'll slip back into bed, feeling her warmth against me once again, and for a moment, all will be right in the world.
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