Chapter 52
Our kiss is hungry. I steady her hands, and her mouth grows impatient against mine. I draw back just enough to take in her swollen lips and blown pupils. To see the way her half-lidded gaze begs me not to stop. “You sure?”
She nods and pulls me back in. Her kiss is rough, like she’s been waiting for me to stop being so gentle and love her in ways that are raw, dark, and brutal.
Stripping off my shirt and sweats, I toss them behind us, but I’m much more careful while removing hers.
Lifting the hem of her shirt reveals the deep-purple bruise that blooms near her ribs.
I hate that bruise. Normally I like seeing her marked up, but the ones I leave on her come from a place of love and respect .
. . These aren’t mine, they stem from violence.
I swallow down the anxiety rising in my throat as I take in her wounds, trusting her enough to not blame myself.
She rushes to slip her arms out of the sleeves. “Slow down,” I say with a chuckle. “If you end up more injured because you’re too turned on, your doctors are gonna blame me first.”
“They saw what you look like,” she says, grinning. “They’ll understand.”
“Maybe I want to take my time with you.”
Kelly bites her lip, filling her hands with her lavish tits and digging her black nails into the soft flesh. Fuck.
I catch her wrist and yank her into me, rougher than I probably should.
Our mouths join together, and a growl spills from my chest as my tongue claims hers.
She claws at the waistband of my boxers, shoving them down so she can wrap her fingers around my cock.
Goddamn. I’m thick and heavy in her palm as she strokes me, spreading the bead of pre-cum down to the base.
My need to be inside her ratchets higher with each heavy breath that escapes from her lips.
Hooking my thumbs into her underwear, I drag them over her ass and down her thighs until there’s nothing between us.
I guide her to lie on her side, then settle in behind and snake my arm under her neck. My other hand rests in the dip of her waist. The way my body protectively curves behind hers eases the tightness in my chest.
She’s in my arms, safe. I sweep her hair over her shoulder and let my mouth brush across the birthmark on the back of her neck. “I love you,” I breathe. Damn, it feels good to say those words out loud, but it’s nothing compared to hearing her echo them back.
I’m conscious of her injuries and that I can’t be too rough. “Tell me if it hurts,” I whisper against her bare skin. She nods, then pushes her perfect little ass into my hips. She feels what she’s doing to me.
“Greedy girl,” I mutter.
“You love it."
I chuckle, gripping her waist firmer—territorial, yet tender. She’s still bruised and healing, but the ache in me rages against the instinct to take her in a way that shows everyone who she belongs to. I don’t want anyone to ever think they can take what’s mine again.
I press a soft kiss to her shoulder, dragging my palm over her stomach and between her breasts. Her soft ass presses more firmly, wriggling against my cock.
“You’re playing with fire . . .”
She sighs, her body melting against mine. “And who was the one who lit the match?” she asks, reaching behind and scraping her nails over my scalp. “If you can’t take the heat . . .”
There’s my Chaos. I encircle her left wrist, bring it to my mouth, and press a kiss to the bandage on the inside of her hand. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to forget how to be gentle.”
Parting her with my fingers, I tease her clit until she twitches for me. A groan is pulled from my chest when I feel how wet she is. She hums softly, and I slip my index and middle fingers inside, curling them and stroking.
Her breaths quicken. “Your wife likes it rough,” she rasps. Fucking hell. She’s not making this easy.
I slap the delicate bundle of nerves between her thighs, earning me a yelp. While she’s reeling from the sharp sting, my other hand creeps up to her throat, circles around it, and holds her in place.
I stuff three fingers in her. “This what you want?” I demand. She gulps, sending vibrations through my palm. As much as I love taking her with my cock, sometimes it’s fun to just play with her pussy and watch her slowly unravel as she drowns in need.
“Yes.” She makes a frustrated whimper, like she’s trying to stave off her orgasm, but she can’t fool me.
“Well, go on, then. Let’s feel that needy pink cunt give it up.”
Kelly moans, riding my hand and gripping the sheets while I pump in and out. She’s so close.
I whisper. “You’re doing great, almost there . . .”
She clamps down on me, and I release her throat, caressing her cheek as she pulses around me.
“Fuck,” she pants.
I place a kiss on the back of her neck, scraping my teeth over the soft skin as her rapid breathing slows. My fingers traipse over her sensitive clit, making her twitch and grind. Christ, this woman.
“Logan?”
“Hm?” I reply, dipping inside her.
“Say it again.”
A smile spreads on my lips. “Say what?”
“That you love me.”
“I love you.” I lift her thigh and sink into her until I’m buried deep where I belong. “Maybe not in the way good men do . . . but in a way that wants me to be a better one.”
She responds with a sharp inhale. “I want you exactly as you are . . . for better or worse.”
I hold her tighter, pushing deep until her mewls amplify to moans.
She nuzzles into my hand, and I cup her face. My thumb traces her cheek before drifting down to her lips. Her mouth parts, and she bites down on my thumb, playful and vicious. Her feisty side drives me wild. “Fuck,” I groan.
“Just didn’t want you to forget you who you married. You don’t have to be so careful with me.”
“You think I don’t want to fuck you harder? Flip you on your stomach and remind you exactly who you belong to?”
“Who do I belong to?” she teases.
I nip her shoulder. “Me.”
She hums like she wants more, and I want to give it to her, but I’m not about to injure her worse.
“Then prove it.”
Goddamn it. I capture her throat, just enough that I can keep her body locked against mine. “You want me to brutally fuck you? Then you’re going to keep still while I do it. Remember what the doctor said, no lifting, pulling, or twisting.”
“I promise,” she vows.
“You’re my wife. Mine to care for, mine to protect, and mine to fuck . . .” I slide my fingers over her clit. “Now take it like an obedient fucking wife.”
I fuck her with long, deliberate thrusts. Snapping my hips just enough to make her grunt. “This is what you do to me. This is what it means to belong to someone. This”—I plunge my entire length inside her—“is what it means to be my forever.”
A broken sound escapes her throat, raw and begging.
“There you go, let it all out. Make those pretty noises I like so much.”
She moans like it’s the only way she can breathe.
Then she throws her head back as she comes, and I nearly lose my sanity. I drive into her harder, feeling her body break for me like it can’t decide whether to fight for survival or become an offering.
“You’re not fucking done,” I say. “Give your husband another one.”
I grip her thigh, hiking it up higher and spreading her open just a bit more, careful not to move her too much.
She’s already had more than enough roughness for my liking.
I no longer pound into her but give her long, deep strokes that are slow and brutal.
It’s cruel torture. She clenches around me.
There’s already another one coming in behind the last.
“Oh, sweetheart, look how you take every slow inch so beautifully.”
I massage every sensitive spot she begs for. Her back arches against my chest, and I release her trembling thigh. She collapses in my arms, sobbing my name as she comes. Shattering into a million little pieces—all of her edges as jagged as mine.
“Fuck, Kelly,” I say through gritted teeth, barely keeping it together. “That’s it. That’s my fucking wife. Give it to me.” I jut into her, not letting her come down, my thumb rubbing slow, firm circles over her swollen clit.
“Please, Logan,” she begs. “I want every drop dripping down my thighs.”
That’s all it takes for me to let go. I bury my cock deep inside her and let the tsunami of pure fucking bliss tear through me like a storm until I can’t see anything but her. Spilling everything I have as she wrecks me.
We lie tangled and breathless, our chests rising and falling in sync with each other.
The need to kiss her has me gently rolling her under me.
A soft smile curves on her lips when her hazy eyes find mine, and the fresh glow of ecstasy still lingers on her cheeks—damn, she’s beautiful.
I tip her chin toward me and kiss her until we’re breathless all over again.
I sit up between her legs, prepared to retrieve a towel, but instead she parts her thighs.
The carnal sight of my cum leaking out of her is so fucking hot, I pause to admire it.
My thumb grazes down the length of her rosy swollen clit and catches the drip to stuff it back into her still pulsing pussy.
Instinctively, I press my hand to her stomach, knowing someday I’ll leave marks here that aren’t from my teeth. It’s the first time I’ve ever truly wanted to leave something good behind. Perhaps she’ll carry on her family’s legacy with me.
She’s tucked into me, my head nestled on top of hers. I remove the cold pack resting on her side, flip it over, and rewrap the towel around it before positioning it back on her ribs and holding it in place.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She sighs softly, humming approval. “You’re very nurturing.”
Nurturing. That’s not a quality I hear about myself often. “For you I am.”
She gives a subtle shake of her head. “Not just me, I’ve seen it with your family too.”
I suppose that’s true.
“Did you know Jordan’s pregnant?” I ask.
“No! When did you find that out?”
I grin. “Last time we went over for dinner.”
She pats my shoulder in a fake slap. “We agreed no more secrets.”
“I forgot,” I say. It’s the truth, I’ve been mentally occupied with our stalker situation for the last few weeks.
Somehow, having children never really occurred to me as something I wanted until I pushed my cum back inside her.
I know almost everything there is to know about this woman, but this is something we’ve never discussed—as a couple or as individuals.
The fact that I don’t know her stance on something so important has been rolling around in my head since, and this is the perfect opportunity to bring it up.
“Do you ever think about that?” I ask. “Having kids?”
She remains still, not tense, but contemplative.
“You’re thinking about babies?” she asks.
“I’ve thought about them with you.”
“You? The guy who growled at me a little bit ago and was prepared to separate Jason’s head from his body last week?”
“You’re the one who said I was nurturing,” I argue with a smile. She makes it sound like I don’t have plans to take care of Jason. He was an accomplice and will be dealt with accordingly.
“I don’t think there would be a dad more overprotective than you.”
There wouldn’t.
“I’ve thought about it,” she admits. “Not daydreaming about cute little clothes or picking names or anything, but I’ve wondered if I was capable of motherhood. Whether I’d be a good mom. Growing up without one makes it harder to picture what that might look like for me.”
“You would be a good mom.”
She snorts. “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.” She’s far too compassionate.
“Is that something you want?” she asks.
“I used to not think so, but with you . . . I like the idea of having a family, and if that family ends up just being me, you, and Odin—that’s okay too. However . . . if you ever decide it’s something you want, or want to discuss more, I’m up for that. It’s nothing we need to rush now.”
“I think”—her finger traces figure eights on my chest—“I think I might want that . . . someday.”
It makes me happy that she’s leaving the door open on that conversation. That’s enough.
“Then we’ll talk about it more someday. We’re not on any sort of timeline.”
“Psh. Speak for yourself,” she quips. “We’ve got a wedding timeline.”
I chuckle. “Oh yeah? Did you pick a date?”
The smile in her voice is audible. “I may have . . .”