Chapter 58 Orla
Orla
The door of our top floor apartment closed behind me, the London chill still clinging to my cheeks and the tips of my ears.
Tyler was sprawled across the sofa, looking distractingly gorgeous with his rippling abs and tattoos on display.
His joggers lay temptingly low on his hips.
The grin tugging at his mouth grew the second his eyes landed on me as he rose to his feet to greet me at the entrance way.
“Well,” he drawled, eyes sweeping me head to toe. “Judging by that look on your face, I’m guessing you found it.”
I sloped over, my hands sliding instinctively to his waistband, heart still overwhelmingly full from the boutique. “I certainly did,” I said, grinning.
“What’s it like?” he teased.
I bit my lip, shaking my head. “You’ll have to wait until the day, dear husband.”
He groaned dramatically. “Unfair. Whatever it looks like, you know I’m gonna be itching to tear it off you the second you walk down the aisle. I’ll call them tomorrow and pay for it.” That cocky glint in his eyes that always undid me.
Just before my lips reached his, my eyes were drawn over his shoulder and that’s when I saw it, the bottle of champagne on the table, and next to it, the unmistakable Louboutin scrawl across the signature brown box. My mouth fell open. “Tyler…” I warned, narrowing my eyes. “What did you do now?”
His mischievous grin told me all I needed to know. “It wasn’t all me!” He held his hands up in defence “Okay, I paid for them, but Kate picked them. If you hate them, we’ll exchange. Go on, open it.”
Heart thudding, I grabbed the box, my fingers twitching to open it. I lay it on my lap as I sat on the sofa. “Oh, by the way,” I said casually, lifting the lid, “Kate’s pregnant again.”
He barked a laugh. “Seriously? Jesus, we’ve got some catching up to do. That guy’s got me beat in all directions.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling as I peeled back the tissue paper and froze. My heart nearly stopped. Inside lay the most beautifully obscene pair of heels I’d ever seen: ivory satin, red soles gleaming, a bow at the back, sky-high and utterly impractical.
“Tyler…” I whispered, almost afraid to touch them.
“See? Told you Kate’s got taste,” he said, far too smug. “Figured if I can’t see the dress, I’ll at least get to see the shoes under it before I tear the whole thing off you. Hell, tomorrow we’ll go pick lingerie to match—three sets, so I can practice ruining each one.”
My lips twitched, betraying me with a grin. “You’re impossible.”
He leant back, arms spread across the cushions with a look that was pure cocky California golden boy. “I think the word you’re looking for is irresistible.”
His gaze dipped to the box, then climbed slowly up my body until it locked on mine again. Heat darkened his eyes and the warmth between my thighs was undeniable.
“Now,” he murmured, in that lethal voice, “how about you be a good little wife and go put those on for me…only those.”
My thighs pressed together, instantly. “Tyler…”
He tilted his head still spotting that grin, shifting his hand over his joggers, the thick outline of him straining against the grey cotton with absolutely zero apology.
“C’mon, O. Humour me. Those heels, nothing else. I wanna see my girl in Louboutins and nothing in between.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, scooping up the box, pulse racing. “Only you could be turned on by me in a winter coat and scarf.”
His wicked laugh followed me down the hall.
“Just call me when you’re ready, baby,” he winked.
This man was going to drive me insane and he knew it.
I peeled off my clothes until I was down to my bra and panties, then slid my feet into the heels. Bloody hell, they were stunning. Silky satin wrapping my ankles, the flash of red sole each time I shifted. I felt powerful, almost dangerous.
I hooked my thumbs into my panties and pushed them down and slid off my bra, but standing there in nothing but shoes made me feel utterly ridiculous. My face flamed as I reached for the satin robe on the back of the door. At least that would make me feel less…exposed.
I’d just started to tug the sash around my waist when the door burst open.
“Woman, you’re taking too long and I’m hard as fu—”
Tyler froze in the doorway, one hand braced on the frame, eyes dragging down my body so slowly it felt like he was touching me without moving an inch, from the heels strapped to my feet, to the bare length of my legs, to the loose gape of the robe that barely covered my nipples.
His throat worked once, then again, before he managed words.
“Holy. Shit.” It came out in a way so reverent my head was spinning.
The robe suddenly felt obscene, like the only thing separating me from being completely devoured.
“Tyler…” I whispered, self-conscious now, half a step from bolting behind the door.
His jaw flexed, his voice turned to gravel. “Don’t even think about covering up, O. You’ve got no idea what you look like right now. Fuck me.” His palm pressed flat against the frame like he needed the support. “You’re every filthy dream I’ve ever had, standing right here in our bedroom.”
Heat pooled between my legs, the feeling of being this wanted and adored taking over every inch of my insides.
He crossed the room in two strides, his hand sliding up my jaw as the other traced between my thighs. His breath caught, a low growl rumbling as he brought his lips to my throat.
“You really gonna end me over a pair of shoes?” he murmured, lips grazing my pulse. “Or is this just your way of reminding me I’ll never survive you?”
My breath hitched when his fingers slipped through the slick proof of how much I wanted him. His lips hovered just short of mine with his voice breaking rough.
“Christ, O… standing here in nothing but those heels, dripping for me like this?”
I whimpered. He caught my wrist and pulled me toward the dresser. My hips bumped the edge, and one tug on the sash had my robe falling open, sliding off my shoulders to the floor. His eyes held me there. Hunger, awe, love, all tangled into one unbearable glance.
“Up,” he said, voice hoarse.
He pushed me onto the dresser, breath shaking, my legs spread wide as he stepped between them. His sweats hung low on his hips, his body all heat and want.
“You’re a vision,” he murmured, dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. “My wife. Mine.”
I hooked one leg around his waist, heel biting into his back, urging him closer and the sting made him groan. He shoved his sweats down just enough to free himself, the blunt head of his cock sliding through me in the most torturous way.
“Tell me you need it,” he rasped, eyes locked on mine.
I smiled wickedly, my breathing getting heavier. “I need my husband to fuck me. Right now.”
He thrust into me hard, my moan breaking the air. His hands clamped on my hips, dragging me to the edge of the dresser, as he slid his hard length in and out of me mercilessly.
“Fuck, Tyler—” My head fell back.
“Yeah, baby. That’s it.” His hand fisted in my hair, holding my head back so his mouth could find my ear, his words rough and filthy. “The next time you wear these heels, you’ll remember this. How I fucked you in them. How I filled you up wearing nothing but these.”
My orgasm hit fast and hard, quakes ripping through my thighs as he drove into me.
I came undone beneath him, collapsing into freefall, my hands clawing for the dresser as he tilted me back against it, pushing me deeper into the bliss.
Wetness spread down my inner thigh, every flutter of pleasure pulsing hot and relentless through my body.
“You ready for me to make a mess in you, O?” he panted, voice wrecked. “Because I’m close, baby. So fucking close.”
“Do it, Tyler,” I choked out. “I want you to fill me with your cum.”
His groan tore out of him as he spilled inside me, jerking hard, grinding through every last pulse until his whole body shuddered against mine.
He held on to me tightly as he slid out, battling to recover all the while pressing soft, adoring kisses along my hairline as he caught his breath. The tenderness of it stood in stark contrast to the filth we were still drowning in
His mouth curved, not feral so much as with dark intent, and his eyes never left my face. He dragged two fingers through the mess and pushed it back inside me in unhurried, reverent strokes, like he was savouring the aftermath as much as the act itself.
My hips bucked, overstimulated and still buzzing from my orgasm.
“Oh, baby,” he murmured, watching where his fingers disappeared into me. “You look so fucking pretty full of my cum.”
A broken gasp was all I could manage, my body still fizzing under every careful pump of his hand.
“And soon, princess.” His voice dropped to a darker, more certain tone. “You’re gonna let me put a baby in you.” My heart almost stopped beating. If only he knew how much I wanted that.
He slid his slick fingers free and trailed both of our releases up the length of my pussy, slow and claiming. Then he gathered my robe and draped it back over my shoulders, the cool silk clinging across my sweat-damp skin. I melted into him, cheek pressed against his chest.
“Tyler,” I breathed, still unsteady. “I don’t deserve you looking at me the way you do.”
I meant it. Every reckless, devoted inch of him. And yet, beneath all that devotion, I could still feel the trace of a boy who’d learned too young that people leave. Pressed against his chest like this, I knew I’d spend every day proving that I was here. That I wasn’t going anywhere.