Chapter 40 #2
He meets my worried gaze. “I love it. I absolutely adore it. I’ll take it with me everywhere, so when we’re not together, I’ll still have a part of you with me.”
After putting it on the bedside table, he returns to me.
His eyes drop to my mouth and then he’s kissing me and peeling off my clothes, and I’m removing his.
Naked, we tumble onto the bed, a tangle of arms and legs.
He cradles my head, his grip on my hair intensifying as he deepens our kiss, our bodies pressed so close together, I’m not sure where I end and he begins.
“Need you,” he grunts, running his nose along the slope of my neck. “Fucking love you.”
My insides liquify. “I’m yours. Only yours. Always yours.”
“Grace,” he breathes, kissing my shoulder, my breasts, my stomach.
Tossing my legs over his shoulders, he scoops underneath my arse.
The first swipe of his tongue is heaven.
The second, nirvana. The third… I’m lost. One minute, his tongue is velvet, the next steel.
The orgasm comes at me so fast, I don’t have time to prepare.
I scream. Legit yell his name at the top of my lungs. The power of it carries me away until I don’t care if we’re overheard, I only care that he keeps going. By the time the aftershocks wane, I’m a boneless mess, replete, my hunger temporarily quenched.
“On your knees.” His voice is low, the thread of command in his tone irresistible. “Show me that beautiful backside, Grace. That pink pussy, dripping with your cum.”
Before Christian, dirty talk wasn’t my thing, but now I live for it. I crave it. My body needs it. I flip over, bracing my arms on a pillow, and push my arse in the air. He hisses, the air making a whistling sound as it passes through his teeth.
“Gorgeous.” He runs his hand over my left cheek, caressing it. The blunt head of his dick presses against my entrance. With a grunt, he shoves forward, and I groan. It’s so much deeper this way, and so good it should be illegal.
Grabbing both my hips, he does what he promised. He rails me. I’m a passenger, hanging on for dear life, drowning in every precious moment. My hands hold on tighter to the pillow, and I pulse my inner muscles, a move I discovered a couple of nights ago that he loves, confirmed by a low moan.
“Fuck, yes. Don’t stop.”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
“Never.”
Sweat pours off me as I try to match him thrust for thrust, but eventually, my arms give out, and I drop to the mattress. His hand runs down my spine and still he keeps going.
“Touch your clit, Grace,” he pants.
I reach back, flicking the bundle of nerves, pinching, rubbing. The build-up this time is slower. At the peak, right before my body lets go, he comes. A second later, I follow.
“God, the way you’re rippling against my dick.” He groans. “Jesus Christ.” His thrusts slow, then stop. I drop to the mattress, forcing him to slip out of me. The bed undulates as he rolls off me.
Turning onto his side, he caresses my back, the circular motion soothing and intimate. “Still with me, Duchess?”
“I’m not sure. I may be dead.”
He chuckles. “Give me that beautiful face.”
I shift onto my side, pushing sweaty hair off my face. “If you think I’m beautiful with sweat running down my forehead, then you truly must love me.”
“Guilty.” He bends his head, pulling my bottom lip between his teeth. “You okay?”
“With you, always.”
His smile melts my heart. “Are you truly dead, or do you have enough energy left to at least put on a dressing gown? I have something to show you.”
That perks me up. “A surprise?”
“Yes.”
“Even if I didn’t have enough energy, I’d crawl on my hands and knees for a surprise.”
“Works for me. I like you on your hands and knees.”
“As you just proved.”
A few minutes later, Christian leads me along the hallway to an area of the house I haven’t seen. To be fair, there’s about ninety percent of this house I haven’t discovered yet. He turns left, then right, eventually stopping in front of a door that’s identical to the ten or twelve we just passed.
He gestures to the doorknob. “After you.”
My belly flutters as I turn the handle and push open the door to step inside. Christian joins me and rests his hand on my hip.
I gasp. “Oh, Christian.” Slipping out of his embrace, I cross the room, trailing my fingers over the glossy, black grand piano standing proudly in the center. Pivoting, I turn to face my husband. “It’s a Steinway.”
“Do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it. But, Christian, it’s too much, especially as I haven’t played for ages. These cost a fortune. How did you even know what to buy?”
“I asked Destiny. She recommended it, and let’s face it, that girl knows her pianos.” He caresses my cheek, then slides his hand around the back of my neck, massaging the nape. “And just so we’re clear, nothing is too much for you. You’re my wife, Grace. My greatest love, my proudest achievement.”
My heart. “I’m not nearly skilled enough to do justice to such an incredible piece of craftsmanship. You should have stuck with a much more basic model. I’ll probably ruin it.”
“Nonsense. Although, while we’re on the subject of Destiny and skills, I may have asked her if she could spare some time to give you a few lessons.”
My mouth falls open. “You did not.”
“I’m afraid I did.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she’d be delighted to.”
“Oh, my God. Destiny Winslow is going to teach me how to play a Steinway. This is insane.” I squeal, doing a little twirl. I throw myself at him, hooking my legs around his waist. “I love you. I love you so much. Thank you, Christian.” I squeal again. “Amazing.”
“Have you ever seen the movie Pretty Woman?”
I tilt my head. “Yes. Who hasn’t?”
“Remember the scene on the piano?”
I grin, guessing where he’s going. “Yep, and every time I watch it, I feel cheated.”
“Why?”
“Because the camera cut away just as it was getting interesting. We got a PG-13 when I wanted the X-rated version.”
“Hmm, fair point.” He carries me over to the piano and sits me on top. He tugs on the belt, and the two halves of the silk robe part. He eases me onto my back until I’m lying flat, then opens the lid of the piano and places both my feet on top. The tinkling sound of the piano keys fills the room.
“Don’t cheat me, Mr. De Vil. I want the X-rated version.”
"I promise, Mrs. De Vil," he murmurs, trailing his fingers up my thigh like he's playing the most exquisite concerto. "I’ll make sure this performance gets a standing ovation.”