35. Francesca
35
FRANCESCA
His words curl around me, dark and seductive. A shiver races down my spine and lust warms my veins.
I press my back against the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs as I glance up at my husband. Moonlight gilds the hard planes of his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the predatory glint in his eyes. He looks like something out of my darkest, most delicious fantasies. A wolf on the hunt, stalking his prey.
I’ve never wanted to be prey more in my life.
He crouches down, planting one hand on the wall beside my head. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense. “Found you.”
His voice is a low rumble that I feel all the way to my toes. Need thrums through me, making me ache in the best way.
The thrill of being caught pulses through me, hot and electric. My skin hums with anticipation, my breath coming in shallow pants. I don’t know if I should be nervous, pressed against the wall with nowhere to go, but I’m anything but.
“Looks like you did,” I whisper, my lips curving into a teasing smile. “What are you going to do with me now?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering on my bottom lip caught between my teeth. “Francesca.”
“How can you say so many things in between the syllables of my name?”
The tip of his tongue swipes across his bottom lip, his gaze bouncing between my eyes. “I need some direction here, baby. I don’t want to do something you don’t want.”
His words wash over me, tender and sincere, cutting through the charged air between us. My heart squeezes in my chest, a rush of warmth blooming beneath my ribs. He's giving me an out, a chance to set the boundaries, even in the midst of this heated moment.
It’s refreshing, this open honesty, this care for my comfort and consent. So different from anything I’ve experienced before. With Graham, I feel seen. Respected. Cherished even. Like an equal, a partner, not just a conquest or a pretty face.
And that, more than anything, reassures me that I made the right decision to marry him.
I sit up and brush my fingertips along his beard. “I appreciate it. I really do. But I trust you, Graham.”
His eyes soften, the intensity melting into something tender and awed. He turns his head, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Tell me what you want, sunshine. I’ll give you anything. And if you say stop, I stop.”
My breath hitches at the raw sincerity in his voice. At the promise behind those words. I rise up on my knees, bringing my face level with his. My hands slide into his hair, fingers curling around the silky strands.
“And if I say go?” I murmur against the corner of his mouth. “If I say I’ve been dreaming of the way your beard will feel between my thighs?” I drag my teeth over his bottom lip. “If I say every time you watched me play, I was imagining it was your mouth, your hands, your cock?—”
A growl rumbles deep in his chest, low and dangerous. His hands tighten on my hips, fingers digging in like he’s anchoring himself, like if he doesn’t hold on, he might lose every ounce of restraint he has left.
“Then I say spread those pretty thighs for me, wife.” His voice is guttural, rough with desire. “Let me taste what’s mine.”
Liquid heat pools low in my belly at his words, at the dark promise behind them. I nod shakily, my heart pounding an erratic rhythm against my ribs.
His hands slide beneath my thighs, gripping me firmly as he lifts me into his arms. I gasp, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, arms looping around his neck. He carries me effortlessly, like I weigh nothing at all.
The next thing I know, my back hits the soft cushions of the chaise couch. He hovers over me, the heat of his body sinking into mine, igniting nerve endings and sending shivers racing across my skin.
He doesn’t kiss me. Not yet. Instead, his lips find the curve of my jaw, the shell of my ear, the column of my throat. He trails kisses everywhere but where I need it.
I turn my head and curl my arm around his neck, forcing his head to still. I’m under no illusion that he couldn’t break my hold if he wanted to. But finally, finally he kisses me.
I feel drugged. Lightheaded and hungry and warm and so turned on my skin feels tight.
His kiss is deep, demanding. I moan into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair as I arch into him. The scrape of his beard against my skin sends sparks of sensation racing through me, making my nerve endings sing.
His hands roam my body, mapping every dip and curve through the thin fabric of my cami. When his thumbs graze the undersides of my breasts, I gasp, breaking the kiss.
“Please,” I breathe, not even sure what I’m begging for. I just know I need more.
His eyes lock onto mine, dark and heated. “Please what, sunshine?” His voice is a low rumble that I feel in my core.
“Touch me,” I whisper, my hands sliding under his shirt, mapping the hard planes of his stomach. “I need you to touch me.”
A wicked grin spreads across his face as his hands skim higher, cupping my breasts through the lace of my cami. His thumbs circle my nipples, already pebbled and aching for his touch.
“I am.” His hand slips under the delicate lace of my camisole, fingers grazing the sensitive swell of my breast. I gasp at the contact, my skin erupting in goosebumps. He cups my breast fully, the rough pad of his thumb circling my nipple through the thin cotton until it pebbles into a tight bud.
I arch into his hands, a breathy moan falling from my lips. “With your mouth.”
“Like this?” His mouth trails lower, hot, open-mouthed kisses blazing a path down my throat. He nips at my collarbone, soothing the sting with his tongue, before continuing his descent.
He pushes my camisole up, exposing my breasts to the cool air. I shiver, lust flushing my cheeks. His gaze rakes over me, molten and hungry, like he wants to devour me whole.
“So fucking perfect,” he growls, before dipping his head and capturing one aching nipple between his lips.
“ Oh .” I gasp, my back arching off the chaise. He swirls his tongue around the tight peak, lashing and flicking, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him against me as he suckles and nips, worshipping my breasts with single-minded focus.
“Graham,” I moan, my hips writhing restlessly beneath him, seeking friction, pressure, anything to relieve the ache building between my thighs.
He releases my nipple with a wet pop, his breath fanning across my damp skin as he lifts his head. “Yes, wife?” His voice is sin incarnate, low and gravelly with desire.
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “Lower.”
A slow, feral smile spreads across his face, his eyes glinting with dark promise. “As you wish.”
He kisses a searing path down my stomach, his beard rasping deliciously against my sensitive skin. I shiver, goosebumps erupting in his wake. When he reaches the waistband of my sleep shorts, he pauses, glancing up at me through his lashes.
“Is this what you want, Francesca? You want my mouth on you?”
I nod frantically, words escaping me. I’ve never wanted anything more.
A wicked grin curves his lips as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my sleep shorts and eases them down my legs, his knuckles grazing my skin and leaving trails of fire in their wake. He tosses them aside carelessly, his gaze roaming hungrily over my exposed flesh.
I’m bare beneath, the cool air kissing my heated core. I fight the urge to squeeze my thighs together, to hide from the intensity of his stare. But the way he’s looking at me, like I’m a feast laid out just for him, it emboldens me. Makes me want to be seen.
His hands slide up my inner thighs, spreading me open for his hungry gaze. He settles between my legs, his breath fanning across my aching flesh. I’m already so wet, my arousal glistening on my folds.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp that makes me shiver. “So fucking wet for me already. Is this all for me, wife?”
I moan softly and nod, my hips lifting in silent invitation. “Yes. All for you, Graham. Please .”
He growls as he reaches down and palms his dick, his gaze never leaving my pussy. “Good, because I’m fucking starving.”