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She unfastened her bodice slowly, methodically, and I clenched my teeth to keep from snarling at her to go faster. I was dying for her. Starving. I didn’t know how much more I could take. By the time her bare arms emerged, I was breathing hard.
The corset cover was pale pink, a delicate scrap of nearly transparent fabric. She removed it like she had all the time in the world, the vixen.
“Belle,” I snarled.
“Patience, William.”
She placed the cover on the chair, where the bodice rested. When she stood, I got a look at the corset. Black silk edged in pink, the dark fabric a perfect contrast to her milky skin. Her tits were pressed high and tight, begging for my mouth.
“Fuuuck.” I groaned and tried to free myself once more.
Her lips twisted with a secret smile as her fingers started on the ties of her skirts. I wasn’t going to last through all the layers. It was awful, sitting here watching when I could be touching her.
I could torture her, too.
“I love you so much, sweetheart,” I said in a low, seductive tone. “I’m going to make you so goddamn happy. Every morning I’ll wake you up with my mouth between your legs, feasting on your pussy. You like that, don’t you? When I tongue your cunt?”
She exhaled shakily and the ties in her fingers knotted. She quickly got them undone. “Stop distracting me.”
I didn’t miss how fast she was breathing, the flush to her skin. “Then, after you come, I’ll slide my cock inside you a little at a time. So you can really feel it, yeah?”
The outer skirt fell to the floor. She moved faster on the petticoat.Good.
I kept up a stream of erotic conversation until she was down to her drawers. Black, just like the corset. Just like my soul. Yeah, she would fit in fine with me in Hell’s Kitchen.
“Get over here,” I growled.
“Do you like them?”
“I fucking love them. They’re perfect, just like you.” I rolled my wrists again, trying to get free. “Now, come straddle my lap and take out my cock, Belle. I want to show you how much I missed you.”
She bit her lip and came toward me, her tops of breasts bouncing above the corset. “You are quite bossy for a man who broke my heart.”
Guilt lanced through me. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You can torture me as long as you want.”
“That’s better.” Now standing before me, she slipped her fingers into the slit of her drawers.
Then she rubbed herself and moaned.
My mouth fell open.Christ. She really was going to torture me.
Her lids fell closed. “Every time I did this I thought of you.”
I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t strong enough. Writhing against the ropes, I begged, “Have mercy on me, widow. I’m dying here. For God’s sake, please.”
“You’ll never lie to me again?”
“No, I swear it.”
She kept circling her clit. “And you won’t get shot again?”
“I’ll do my best, sweetheart.”
“Good, because I have no wish to become a true widow.”
I froze. Was she saying . . .?
I licked my lips. “I want to marry you. I want you at my side every second of every day. You are the air I breathe and the blood in my veins. I’ll spend my life giving you the fucking world, if you let me.”
Expression softening, she came over to stand mere inches away. She slipped her fingers into my mouth, the same fingers that had been stroking her clit. The musky flavor of her pussy flooded my senses and I moaned, sucking on her skin. My God, this woman.
“I don’t need the world,” she whispered, taking her fingers away. “I just need you.” She threw one leg over my lap.
“You have me, sweetheart. Now fuck me and put me out of my misery, yeah?”
* * *
