Chapter thirty-seven
Luc
I want her.
T he door separating the bedroom from the suite’s living area slides open, and my head turns instinctively. She steps into the room, wearing a small robe tied loosely at her waist, barely hiding anything.
I’m fucked .
My chest rises and falls rapidly, and my breathing is harder to control. My great-grandmother used to tell me about magic, and I never believed her. But looking at Rylee now, I swear it exists. She has a way of pulling the air out of the room, like a magnet drawing me closer.
Every step she takes sends my pulse hammering in my ears, my eyes following her like she’s the only thing keeping me alive. That easy, effortless confidence, like she’s fully aware of the chaos she’s causing in my head. When her gaze locks with mine, I’m gone, caught in a spell I can’t escape.
She’s a witch, a dangerously beautiful one. That’s the only explanation. No woman has ever affected me like this, not even when I was a teenager.
“Hungry?” I nod toward the tapas spread on the table that the chef prepared for us, along with the bottle of wine. A weak attempt to break the tension.
If it were up to me, though, I’d be devouring something entirely different. Something I already know would taste sweeter, better, more intoxicating than anything on that table.
Something I’ve been craving since the moment I met her.
“Not really,” she says, taking a step forward. Then another.
Each step narrows the distance between us until she stops just an inch away. The faint scent of vanilla clings to her, wrapping around me, pulling me under. I tilt my head back to meet her gaze, my chest plummeting as her eyes slowly drift down my body.
“Thanks for the vanilla bath soap,” she says, her lips curving into a faint, almost shy smile.
“De rien (You’re welcome).”
That soap was as much for me as it was for her. I’ve been obsessed with the scent since the moment we met. Buying vanilla candles for months because they reminded me of her, pretending she was close when she was miles away.
Her gaze slides over me, starting at my chest and lingering on the way my shirt clings to my shoulders. Her eyes move lower, and I feel her stare everywhere, igniting a slow burn beneath my skin. Her gaze lands at my thighs, where I’m already painfully hard for her. I should feel embarrassed, but I’m not. I want her to see what she does to me.
I haven’t touched another woman in sixteen months, because all I could think about was her. Women have looked at me with hunger before, but the way Rylee looks at me? It’s different. She might not love me yet, but that will change. What I know for sure is that she wants me.
The question is whether she’s ready for this. For me . She’s been trying so hard to keep her distance, to keep this strictly business. But I caught her staring when she thought I wasn’t looking.
“Rylee.” Her name leaves me like a warning both to her and to myself. My hands find her waist, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin fabric. I pull her between my thighs, my fingers gripping her wrist and holding her there. “If you keep looking at me like that, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop what happens next.”
“I…I’m sorry.” She tries to step back, but my hands slip around her waist, pulling her into my lap before I know what I’m doing.
Her body tenses for just a second before she gasps, her wide eyes meeting mine as she feels me, hard and aching beneath her.
“Luc…” Her chest rises and falls rapidly.
I grip her waist, holding her steady, trying to keep myself together. “Tell…tell me I’m not imagining this. That you want me as much as I want you.” My gaze searches hers, pleading for the truth. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”
Her body moves slightly against me, whether she realizes it or not.
She’s not denying it .
You’re killing me, baby . I bite back a moan. My lips ghost over hers. Her breath trembles against my skin.
“Tell me to stop, Rylee. Push me away.” Otherwise I don’t think I can. I want her so bad it’s like a physical ache. My lips drift to her neck, barely grazing the delicate skin there, and I hear the smallest catch in her breath. Her body shifts again, pressing against the hardness she’s trying to ignore. I grit my teeth, every nerve in my body screaming for her.
“I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve wanted you.” My fingers brush her collarbone, lingering on her racing pulse. “But I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want. Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”
I pull back to see her face. Her lips are parted, and her eyes heavy-lidded.
“Please, baby.” I don’t know what I’m pleading for. Her to stop me or to give in.
Her arms move slowly, until they wrap around my neck. It’s a silent invitation, but I need more.
I lower my lips to hers, barely touching, waiting for her permission. Her body melts into mine, and a quiet sigh escapes her, a sound that nearly shatters my restraint.
“Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.” My forehead presses to hers. “I need to hear you say it, Rylee. I need your consent.”
“I want this,” she breathes, her lips brushing mine as her hands clutch at my shirt like the only thing grounding her. “I want you.”
“Fuck,” I growl, the raw need I’ve been holding back spilling out. My lips crash into hers hungrily. My hands pull her tighter against me as if I could fuse us together. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.” I flip us until she’s beneath me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. Her hair spills across the couch.
Her fingers find the waistband of my pants, and together we push them down. I kick them off without a second thought, my attention already on her.
She lifts her hips as I slide her underwear down her legs. The fabric is gone in an instant, forgotten, as I lower myself over her, pressing our bodies together.
“Back on the couch again.” The tease slips out with a crooked grin.
A breathless laugh escapes her lips then quickly melts into a quiet moan as I press against her, the warmth of her body pulling me in, erasing the space between us.
“Condom?” I meet her gaze, wanting to be sure. We’re husband and wife now, but I still need to hear it from her. I hope not because I want to feel every inch of her.
“I’m on the pill. And I got tested before the wedding,” she whispers.
“Same.”
Rylee wraps her hands around my cock, positioning me exactly where she wants. Her body trembles with anticipation.
Control is a fragile thing. If I’m not careful, this will be over in seconds like I’m some inexperienced teenager. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting go before she completely falls apart beneath me.
My dick eases into her inch by inch. Her heat surrounds me, and she tightens almost reflexively, making my breath catch. “Relax, Mon Trésor, let me in.”
I should have taken more time to get her body ready for this. But it’s been weeks of her teasing me, pushing me to my limit, and I can’t wait another second.
My fingers find her clit, circling slowly. Her body listens to me, softening enough for me to push in further. Another inch, and I realize the low moan filling the room is coming from me.
I add another inch as she gasps beneath me. Her nails dig into my ass, urging me forward. Her reaction sends a wave of heat straight through me, but I force myself to pause. “Let me know if you want me to stop, Mon Trésor.” I know I’m big and not every woman can handle all of me.
Her voice is breathless, trembling, but sure. “Please don’t stop. I want all of it.”
I push deeper, the friction almost unbearable. “My beautiful, greedy wife wants all of it, doesn’t she?”
“Yessss, please,” she moans, her head falling back, exposing the curve of her throat.
I push the last inch into her, sinking to the hilt until there’s no space left between us. All nine inches of me are buried deep, and the sharp cry that escapes her is matched by the shuddering groan that tears from my throat.
Sixteen months I waited for this moment, and it’s better than I ever imagined. And I haven’t even moved inside her yet.
If I thought her lips were a drug, this—this is something far more dangerous. This is addictive, like heroin, consuming every inch of me until I know I’ll never escape.
She fucking owns me. Has ruined me for anyone else the moment my eyes landed on her. She claimed me as her mate, even if she has no idea. There will never be anyone else but her. Till death do us part, and until our souls meet again.
Her body clenches around me perfectly, and I pause, letting her adjust, even as every instinct in me screams to move. My lips find her neck, brushing softly against her skin as I murmur, “Tell me when you’re ready, baby.”
“Now please,” she whispers.
Slowly, I pull out, savoring the way her walls cling to me, then push back in. She’s so wet that I slide in easily. Her body shudders beneath mine.
My fingers find her clit again, brushing over it with light teasing strokes. Each gentle movement earns me another broken moan, her body trembling with anticipation. Pulling out again, I add a roll of my hips before sliding back in, pushing just deep enough to make her wince a little.
Her body arches, her nails raking across my skin, but I don’t pick up the pace. I keep teasing, driving her closer but not giving her everything yet.
Her growl of frustration catches me off guard. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer until my face is buried against her throat. Her fingers tangle in my hair. “Stop teasing me. Be a good boy and fuck me.”
I didn’t know I liked praises until this moment. I grit my teeth, barely holding on, my cock twitching at the command in her voice. This fucking woman.
“I’ll be a fucking good boy.” A dark chuckle escapes me as I pull out. Before she can say more, I turn her around, guiding her until she’s on her knees, her back pressing firmly against my chest.
“You want me to stop teasing, Mon Trésor? Then hold on.” I push back inside her from behind, deeper this time, hitting the textured sponginess of her G-spot as her walls grip me tightly. Her head tilts back against my shoulder, her soft gasp spurring me on.
I wrap one arm around her waist to hold her steady. My lips brush against her neck. I bite down just enough to make her gasp again, before soothing the spot with my tongue. Claiming her as mine, the way she claimed me.
When I increase my pace, driving into her faster and deeper, she reaches out for the armrest, trying to run away from me, but I grab her hair and pull her back to me. “Don’t run, Mon Trésor.” I thrust again. “You asked for this, remember?” One hand grips her waist holding her exactly where I want her. “You wanted me to stop teasing.” I thrust deeper this time, my lip brushing the curve of her shoulder. “Now you’re trying to run? No, baby girl.”
“Luc…” She gasps, trying to push herself forward.
“You can take it.” Another deep thrust sends her legs trembling, her body sinking into me. “Say it, baby,” I whisper into her ear, hips twisting slightly.
“I…I can take it.” Her breath comes in short broken gasps.
“That’s my good girl,” I rasp, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Her whimpers turn into broken cries as I slam into her harder, her body molding to mine with every thrust.
My free hand slides up, wrapping gently around her throat, adding just enough pressure to make her gasp again. The wet slap of our bodies is pure bliss.
Removing my hand from her throat, I let it drift lower, between her thighs, finding her sensitive nub. I circle it, feeling her body tense and shudder in response.
“Oh God.”
“Thanks for the compliment, baby, but I prefer you use my name when you come around my cock,” I whisper darkly against her ear before pulling out.
“No, no, put it back in, please.” Her voice trembles with need.
A deep chuckle rumbles from my chest. I’m completely gone for her. This woman. My woman. My wife. Mon soleil. Before she can protest further, I turn her around, until she’s flat on her back against the couch.
I hover over her, one foot on the couch, and the other foot on the floor. My hand grips her waist as I thrust into her with one push. “Here, baby girl,” I murmur, my voice thick with need. “I just need to see my wife’s face as she comes around me.”
And God, it’s everything. The way her teeth sink into her lip as she tries to muffle her cries. Her brows pinch together, eyes flutter closed for a moment, only to snap open again when I angle my hips just right.
“Hold on to the head of the couch.” My hand slides down to grip her thigh.
Her fingers scramble for the edge of the couch, clutching it as I pull her hips forward, driving deeper. She clenches around me perfectly, her moans growing louder with every thrust.
“Luc, I’m gonna come, please don’t stop.” Her breaths are uneven. Her eyes flutter shut, but I can’t let her hide from me now.
I lean closer, brushing my thumb along her damp cheek. “I know, baby,” I rasp, every syllable burning with need. “Come for papi, but keep your eyes on me.”
Her lashes lift, her gaze locking onto mine, and I see it—the exact moment her body gives in. She goes quiet, her lips parting as her walls tighten around me. A tremor starts at her thighs, spreading through her entire body as her back arches, pressing her chest against mine. Her nails dig into my shoulders, hard enough to sting, and the soft, broken moan that slips from her lips sends fire racing down my spine.
“Rylee.” Sweat clings to my skin, every muscle in my body strung tight as I thrust into her a few more times. Her body clenches around me again, draining me for everything I have.
The room is quiet except for our ragged breathing. I take her hand, threading our fingers together, and press a kiss to her damp temple. Her scent, vanilla and sweat, grounds me as I try to catch my breath.
She’s mine.
“This is the best orgasm I’ve ever had.” She laughs, breaking the silence.
I grin, flipping us over so she’s lying on my chest, her soft curves fitting perfectly against me. “You just boosted my ego, baby.”
She laughs again, the sound’s music to my ears, and apparently to my groin. Her thigh shifts against me, and I know she feels it because she freezes, her eyes going wide.
“Oh my God, are you hard again?”
I smirk, brushing my lips against her temple. “Come on, let’s eat. You need energy for the next rounds.”
“Rounds? As in plural?” she stutters.
“What, you don’t think you can handle it?” I tease, watching the blush creep across her cheeks.
It’s been almost two years, mon bébé. We need at least three or four more rounds before the night is over.
“I can. Can you?” she shoots back. Before I can respond, she slips off me, and I immediately miss the heat of her body. My eyes track her long legs and perfect ass as she walks toward the little dining area.
I chuckle as I notice the slight limp in her step, already imagining how much worse it’s going to be tomorrow. “Are you okay?” I tease, pulling on my boxers and following her to the table.
“I’m fine,” she says quickly, not looking back.
“You sure? There’s a little limp that wasn’t there earlier.”
She turns her head just enough for me to catch her glare. “Probably from dancing,” she lies straight to my face, like I wasn’t the one inside her less than five minutes ago.
I laugh, the sound bursting out of me uncontrollably. “Dancing?”
“Shut up!” she groans, her cheeks flushing as she sits. But I catch the little smile tugging at her lips, and it makes me laugh even harder.
We’ll be doing more dancing, baby.