CHAPTER FOURTEEN
conall
Francesca hovered at the edge of the bed, appearing to battle with herself before getting beneath the covers. I wondered whether I should say something. Then, suddenly, she gave in, darted under the duvet, and pulled it up to her chin.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you had clothes for me? I could have changed.”
Anger suffused every line of her body. She practically vibrated with it, which was precisely why I hadn’t told her earlier. I didn’t want to argue with her about something else or explain why I had them. My plans for Francesca hadn’t just sprung up quickly. They had been developed over time, during which I’d considered her need for clothes. Just as I considered everything.
“I’ve known for some time that we’d be paired. Ever since Maxim and Cora got married, I’ve been busy, but not so busy that I haven’t made some arrangements.”
She looked beautiful in my bed, even when she was angry. I could see her processing the information I’d shared with her. I had already envisioned how she would react—how she would look beneath my sheets. This moment had played out in my head with obsessive precision, down to how she curled her fingers into the blanket.
“I didn’t mention I had clothes because I didn’t want to argue about one more thing. We were already outlining our contract items, and it felt like we had enough on our plate without discussing why I had a closet full of clothes.”
“Fine. Do you have blinds?”
she grumbled, pulling the blankets higher.
“Yes, I will close them shortly.”
I didn’t want to tell her that I wanted the luxury of seeing her while I fucked her. She would find out soon enough. She could hide under the covers for a few more minutes. Moreover, the blinds were on timers. My life ran like a well-oiled machine. My morning routine, the way I organized my closet by color and function, the precise way I stacked documents on my desk—all of it controlled, perfected. Even my security system was checked three times a night. Admittedly, introducing a wild card like Francesca into the mix would be challenging, but I could handle it.
“What about a charger for my cell?”
I rolled onto my side to face her. “There’s one on your side of the bed. I put it there myself.”
I could hear her small, annoyed huff. She was probably rolling her eyes. “You’re welcome.”
I had chosen it specifically for her—black, sleek, a model I knew was compatible with her phone. Francesca wasn’t just a fleeting thought. I had made arrangements and ensured everything in this space would accommodate her seamlessly, whether she acknowledged it or not.
“God, you’re annoying,”
she said instead. I watched her reach for the charger, fumbling as she connected her phone.
“Am I?”
I scooted closer. She let out a squeak of alarm as she rolled over, discovering me already in her space. “I don’t think you know the half of it,”
I murmured, my voice low, as my lips hovered close to hers without touching. Teasing her was simply too easy. Francesca’s eyes narrowed, but her cheeks betrayed her, flushing pink as she attempted to scoot back. The issue was that she had already backed herself to the edge of the bed.
“Personal space, O’Kelly,”
she warned, though her tone lacked conviction. “I may have agreed to share the same bed, but I didn’t consent to anything beyond that.”
“Personal space is overrated,”
I countered, grinning as I propped myself on one elbow, moving closer to her. Her body practically trembled with tension, and I knew it wasn’t just nerves. I’d seen how she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. Francesca wanted to hate me but was drawn in nonetheless, like a moth to a flame. I had counted the times she looked at my mouth while I spoke—sixteen times today alone.
I’ll bet if I dipped my fingers into her panties, I’d find her dripping wet.
Her fingers curled into the duvet, clutching it like a lifeline, as if it were her personal anchor. “You’re seriously the worst. You know that?”
“Funny, it didn’t seem like you thought that earlier when you let me kiss you,”
I said, my grin widening as her blush deepened.
“That was a mistake,”
she snapped, her voice now pitched higher. “Heat of the moment. Poor judgment.”
“Was it, though?”
I tilted my head and studied her. “Because if I remember correctly, you didn’t exactly push me away.”
Her lips parted to retort, but I didn’t give her the chance. Closing the small gap between us, I brushed my mouth against hers, light and teasing. Her sharp inhale was the only confirmation I needed.
She froze, but only for a second. Then, as if something inside her had cracked, Francesca’s hands released the duvet and reached for my shoulders, yanking me closer and kissing me back with a ferocity I hadn’t expected.
Her control slipped, revealing the honest Francesca—the one who burned hot and never backed down. My hand slid to her waist, pulling her against me, and I felt her melt, even as she made a muffled noise of protest.
“You—”
she began to speak, pulling back slightly, but I silenced her with another kiss, one that was slower and deeper.
“You talk too much,”
I murmured against her lips, smiling as she made an annoyed sound.
“And you don’t talk enough,”
she shot back, her tone sharp, yet she didn’t pull away this time. Her words were muffled against my mouth.
I laughed, low and raspy even to my ears, as I nuzzled her neck, letting my lips trail down her jaw. “I think you enjoy that about me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Conall,”
she said, though her words lacked their usual sting as her hands slid to tangle behind my neck. “I wouldn’t mind having some conversation.”
“Too late,”
I replied, and before she could argue, I tugged the duvet out of her grip and cocooned her against me. Savoring the skin-to-skin contact.
For a moment, she didn’t resist, leaning into me, her breathing unsteady. Then, just as I thought she might let her guard down completely, she pulled back, her expression guarded once again. I wouldn’t allow her to pull away. A host of thoughts I’d buried surrounded this woman, and now that she was in my grasp, there was no way I’d let her go.
“Don’t assume this means anything,”
she said, her voice soft yet firm.
“Whatever you say,”
I said lightly, yet I didn’t let her go. Instead, I pressed my forehead against hers, my hand sliding up to cup her face.
She glared at me, but her fingers curled into my skin again, betraying her. Francesca was a fighter through and through, but this was one battle she wouldn’t win.
Her glare deepened, yet I noticed the crack in her armor, the hesitation in her defiance. “You’re impossible,”
she whispered, her voice tinged with frustration, though she didn’t pull away.
“And you’re stubborn,”
I replied, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “But we both know how this will end, Francesca.”
She blinked, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words emerged. Instead, she merely stared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she grappled with the arguments swirling within her.
“I hate you,”
she finally said, her voice trembling yet strong enough to make me smile.
“No, you don’t,”
I replied, lowering my voice to a near growl. “You may wish you did, but you don’t.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could feel the heat radiating from her as she bristled. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”
“No,”
I said, leaning in so our noses were almost touching.
That was it. The dam broke. Francesca surged forward, her lips colliding with mine with such force that it jolted me. She kissed me as if she were making a point, as if she were trying to regain the upper hand.
I shifted, rolling us until she was pinned beneath me, her hands trapped between us. She let out a startled gasp, breaking the kiss. I dipped my head, letting my lips trail down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Giving into the moment, I rocked against the apex of her thighs, indulging in the moan that she gave.
“Conall,”
she breathed, her voice catching on my name.
“Who am I?”
I murmured, my hand sliding to her hip, holding her securely in place.
Her nails dug into my chest, and for a moment, I thought she might shove me off, but instead, she arched her pelvis against me subtly, her breath hitching as she sought friction against my cock. “You’re infuriating.”
“Still not the word I’m looking for,”
I teased, pressing my lips to the hollow of her throat, licking the skin there.
“Conall,”
she said again, this time with more of a warning, but it didn’t have the effect she had probably hoped for.
I lifted my head to meet her gaze, and for a moment, the tension between us hung heavily in the air. “Say it,”
I challenged, my voice low. I pressed against her, inhaling that light floral scent that was uniquely hers. “Who am I?”
Her eyes burned with an indescribable emotion—anger, desire, perhaps both. “Husband,”
she finally whispered. Even as she uttered it reluctantly, her hands glided to the back of my neck, drawing me closer.
I captured her lips again, silencing whatever argument she was about to make. Her body softened beneath me, her resistance fading as the heat between us ignited. And as her fingers tangled in my hair, I couldn’t help but think that whatever this moment had cost me and however long I’d waited, it was worth it.
Francesca belonged to me. I had arranged my world so that she fit into it, ensuring she had a place within my ordered chaos. I would not allow her to disrupt it. No, I would make her fit perfectly, just as I had planned.
“That’s right. You belong to me. My wife.”
My senses felt overloaded as I tightened my grip on her, pinning her flat with an arm across her abdomen while I slid down between her legs, tugging the sheet free so she was exposed to the lights of the city.
**
The negligee was creamy silk against the honey tones of her skin, sliding effortlessly with the palm of my hand. I wasn’t a shopper, so I couldn’t claim to have chosen the clothes myself, but I had asked for the best, and the stylist had delivered. My peculiarities about clothing were based mostly on having to do with cleanliness when we were younger, but I had a thing for textures, and this made my cock even harder. The feel of the silk against the creamy expanse of her belly made my balls tighten. I rubbed it back and forth against her belly just to test myself.
“You’ll keep still,”
I ordered. “And quiet.”
Part of me wanted her to disobey so that I could punish her, but she kept her mouth still as she watched me with curiosity, but most of all, desire.
I might have hidden from others that I’d harbored a secret obsession for Francesca Santelli, but I’d never hidden it from myself. I’d always known that Francesca and I would be a good fit—a perfect fit.
Nuzzling my face into her skin, I indulged in the moment, ignoring her needy little mewls as I rubbed my face against the crook of her neck and up against her cheek.
“You’ll come only when I say.”
My eyes stayed hot on hers as I moved a hand between her thighs, nearly blowing my load as I ran a thumb over the tiny silk patch that covered her center. It wasn’t damp, it was drenched. Soaked through. “Oh, baby girl,”
I groaned. “You need this, don’t you?”
She bit her lip, and her chin attempted to firm with determination, but I could see she was already struggling with the need that I was sure burned through her, just as I knew it burned through me.
“Let’s get this first one out of the way then.”
Pulling her panties down, I pushed the rest of her silk nighty high up under her breasts, not trusting myself to uncover her completely, pleased as I spread her legs that she was swollen and pink. She glistened in the minimal light, glowed even. Firming that arm over her belly, I licked her ass to clit in firm strokes with the flat of my tongue before spearing into the center of her until my lips met her folds. I spread her with my fingers and started tongue-fucking her, stroking hard into her over and over. Already, the wicked little thing struggled against my arm, trying to grind against my face, but I kept up the rhythm I’d set against her spongy g-spot, flicking her clit with my fingers as I drove through her slick folds as she sobbed. When I felt the quivers began, I pinched her clit hard and relentlessly before pulling my mouth away.
“Baby, come for me.”
Heaving forward onto my hand, she worked her hips as I leaned forward to bite one nipple, clamping onto it savagely as she came, coating my fingers with her juices.
“Oh, God.”
She flung her head back against the pillows, her hands out like a snow angel as her pussy clenched and spasmed.