Chapter 23 #2
One hand is clutching the underneath of her thigh. My other hand moves in front of me. I lift my hand, slapping the top of her mound with enough force to have her squealing. I wasn’t going for pain. Nope. That was all about giving her a jolt of pure pleasure before I demand, “Who am I?”
Annaliese digs her heel into my back. “Seb—Sebastien.”
Wrong answer, wife.
I slap her again, then take one finger, dipping it inside of her. She’s so hot, so slick, I know that she’s ready for me. Her pussy sucks at the digit, trying to swallow me whole, and I oblige by working a second finger in there.
I fingerfuck Annaliese as slowly as I can. The way she’s squirming… the way she’s untangled her fingers from my hair, throwing her hands up over her head as she clutches at the tree… my cock wants to take the place of my fingers desperately.
Down, Bad. Not yet.
I use my thumb to pluck at her clit. I’ve gotten to know her body intimately over the last couple of weeks. I can play it like it’s a fucking violin, and way she’s panting for me is music to my ears.
But, my love, we can do a little better than that.
I increase the pace, prepared to let her come on my hand if that’s what it takes. But though I have every intention of fucking her—and it’s just such a boost to my ego that under her breath, she keeps on panting ‘fuck me’ over and over again—not until I get the right answer to this question.
“Let’s try this again. Who the fuck am I, Mrs. Reynolds.”
She’s close. I can tell. I know her so damn intimately, it won’t take much more to have her exploding. I jam my fingers in her, and she squeals. “My husband!”
That’s my girl.
“Am I fake?”
“What?”
It’s the way she doesn’t immediately have an answer to that question… See, I was prepared to let her come on my hand, but you know what? I just changed my mind.
I pull my fingers out of her, stopping all stimulation. Instead, I lick my fingers clean of Annaliese’s sweet juices, smiling around the one in my mouth as she takes her leg back. She’s shaky, glaring down at me as I stay crouched in the dirt.
I give her my most innocent grin. “Something wrong, love?”
“You stopped,” she accuses me.
“I did.”
“You don’t… you don’t want to do this?” Her anger fades, replaced with confusion. “Oh. Okay. Um. If you could just hand me my leggings, then—”
Fuck me. Once again, I’m screwing up. This is a biggie, too.
Letting Annaliese think that I’m rejecting her instead of teasing her…
Shit. This has Ward all over it. The second Dallas gives me the go sign, that lawyer is a dead man.
Not only because he thinks he can target my brother, but for all the little ways he took something beautiful and left her beautifully broken.
I have to remember that. I can’t treat her like any other lover. She’s not any other lover. She’s Annaliese. She’s my wife, and if I need to remind her a hundred times instead of my own insecurities leading me to have her tell me again and again that I’m hers...
“I am your husband. Your real husband. You’re my wife. That’s it. That’s all. I know it. You know it. And now we can consummate this fucking marriage for real.” I jerk open the button on my jeans. Yank on the zipper. Grab my cock rougher than I should.
I don’t care. I fucked up, letting her think I didn’t want her.
I will always want her.
I stalk toward her. Stumbling back, eyes lit up in excitement, her back hits the tree again.
Scraping the shit out of my knuckles, I shove my hands behind her again. This time, I find bare skin under my dress shirt. Taking an ass cheek in each palm, I lift her up, urging her to wrap her legs around me.
Our eyes meet.
“How much do you want me? Tell me,” I demand.
“So much.”
I release a hand, using it to grip my cock at the base. “Say it again, Annaliese.”
“I. Want. You.”
It’s not ‘I love you’. I know I’ll have to wait a little longer than that. It’s only been two months after all, and she’s been hurt before. That’s fine. I have her now. I’ll haver her forever.
I find the entrance to her pussy, shoving hard, filling her with one quick thrust.
She gasps. I bury my face against her neck, scraping my teeth along the curve where it meets her shoulder. Then, voice muffled from where I’m sucking at the same spot, I tell her, “You’re mine. Say that.”
I am insecure. I’m broken. I’m the black sheep, and the one who was never worth shit. The one time I thought I had someone who was mine, I was wrong. I need this woman. I need her to belong to me more than I need to breathe.
If she betrayed me, I would never survive it.
If she left me, I would follow right behind her.
If she runs, I’ll chase—and when I catch her again, she can’t expect a repeat performance of this.
I pull out just enough that, when I slam into her again, she feels it all the way through her body.
Her fingers clutch my shoulders, holding tight as she bounces on my dick. “I’m yours.”
Finally.
Every last restraint burns away. There’s no more teasing.
No more taking it slow. Depending on her mood, Annaliese likes to be pampered, her body worshipped for hours.
At other times, she likes it rough and fast, and if a part of me gets super fucking turned on seeing my prim, proper wife come apart as I fuck her like a goddamn animal… well, it’s nice to let myself go, too.
And that’s exactly what sex beneath the moonlight, with the woods surrounding us our only audience, calls for.
Using all of my strength to hold her at the same time as I really begin to fuck her, I move her away from the tree so that I don’t mess up her back any more than I already have.
She’s taking every inch of me like she was born to, crying my name to the wilderness, holding me so tightly, even if I tried to deny her orgasm again, she’d take a chunk out of my shoulders before she ever let me go.
Her head is thrown back, hair trailing down her back. When I pick up mine from the hickeys I purposely left on her skin, I see her eyes are closed.
Hell, no.
“Look at me while I take you,” I rasp, forehead pressed to hers. “I want to see your face when you realize just how fucking real you and me has always been.”
Her nails dig even deeper into my skin. I wouldn’t be surprised if my t-shirt is covered in blood by the time we’re done, and, fuck, that thought shouldn’t be as hot as it is, especially when she snaps her eyes open.
I nip her bottom lip.
She gasps. “Sebastien.”
I thrust again. Harder. Faster. I know how close she was when we started, and while I consider it a failure if I don’t wring at least two orgasms out of my wife whenever she gives me the great pleasure of touching her, I can tell that I won’t last much longer, either.
That’s okay. We have tonight—and every fucking night that follows.
“You can run from me,” I whisper against her lips, voice shaking with how hard I’m holding on, eager to keep from coming inside of her until she starts climaxing around me first. “You can run all you want, love. But understand this: I will always fucking come after you.”
Her legs tighten around my hips, pulling me deeper as she gasps, “Don’t stop, babe… please—”
“Never again,” I growl, kissing her hard, swallowing her moans. “You hear me? Never.”
As though that was all she needed to hear from me, Annaliese’s body clenches around me as she shatters in my arms. She lets out a soft grunt, an almost sigh, and I can’t help it.
I follow right behind her, giving her all I’ve got.
We hold each other through the rest of it until she’s curled up against my chest, head lying on my shoulder. Her arms are wrapped around me. My legs are shaky as hell, but somehow I manage to keep on standing as she presses a whisper-soft kiss against the corner of my mouth.
“Thank you,” she says softly, her deliciously husky voice even more ragged and raw than usual. “For coming after me.”
I clutch her to me, making another promise. Another vow.
“You can run,” I answer. “But you will never get away from me.”
This is it, love.
‘Til death do us part.