Chapter 10 #2
“So do I,” he replied, without hesitation. The honesty in his voice made her heart thud so hard, she swore it could be heard in the quiet night air. “I can’t wait to see your belly round with our baby.”
Her eyes widened, her head spinning with a combination of shock and delight. They had gone from taking things one day at a time, never talking about the big stuff, to Victor dropping the L-bomb and envisioning their future kids.
Dreams really do come true.
She swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure, but her flushed cheeks betrayed just how happy his words made her. “I’ve never felt this sure about someone before,” she whispered.
Victor turned toward her, reaching out again.
This time, he didn’t just hold her hand, he used it to propel her out of her chair and onto his lap.
He kissed her temple, then the side of her face, then her jaw, slowly, deliberately, letting the warmth build.
“I’ve never felt like this before, either. ”
She frowned, and Victor interpreted her expression without needing an explanation. “Not even with Amelia. It’s like everything that came before you was just practice, training.”
Belle’s stomach did a little flip of joy before she closed her eyes, letting herself absorb it all. The warmth, the safety, the quiet thrill of being with someone who wasn’t afraid to say “I love you” and mean it.
“It feels good to talk about all this,” she said.
He nodded. “We were wrong to stay silent for so long. It’s just, I was afraid…”
Victor didn’t finish his sentence. Didn’t need to. Because Belle had suffered from the same fears.
“I was holding back, too. Afraid to say the wrong things, scared of pushing you away.”
“You could never push me away, Sunshine. Never.”
The sincerity in his voice calmed every last one of her anxieties, until they all just drifted away.
“We’re talking now, being honest with each other. That’s what matters,” she insisted.
Victor kissed her cheek. “I want to talk about everything with you. Fears, hopes, shit that pisses us off, embarrassing stories, plans. Even if we just talk about our day…I want us to say all of it. Shit with Amelia fell apart because she wasn’t honest with me about her feelings.
I don’t ever want you to be afraid to tell me what you’re thinking. ”
“Same goes for you.”
“We’ve got time,” Victor murmured in her ear. “Time to love each other. Time to build everything we want. Time to figure it all out. One conversation at a time.”
Her heart swelled at the certainty in his voice. No hesitation, no doubt—just steady, unwavering truth. She kissed him, letting all her gratitude, affection, and relief spill into that single gesture. “I like that. Like knowing that we don’t have to rush things. That we can just be.”
“Just be,” he repeated. They sat there a few minutes more before Victor stirred. “Come on, Sunshine. Let’s go to bed.”
Belle rose, reaching for their drinks.
“Leave them,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into the house. They walked together side by side, in silence, neither of them wanting to run the risk of waking Pip.
Once they were sequestered in the privacy of his bedroom, Victor shut the door, locked it, then leaned against it. Every night, they’d come together in a flurry of passion and desperation, tearing each other’s clothes off and falling into bed like they were working with an expiration date.
Time seemed irrelevant. Outside pressures, work responsibilities, family obligations…they all faded away. Here, in the quiet of Victor’s room, she felt a rare, perfect clarity.
“I feel safe here,” she admitted. “In your room. With you.”
Victor shook his head. “It’s your room now, too. This is our home. We’re going to get married in that back garden, going to raise our children and spoil the grandkids here. We can even get a dog if you want.”
She crinkled her nose. “A cat.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “A cat,” he agreed.
“Our home,” she whispered back, sighing happily as those words sank in. Hearing Victor say he loved her had felt amazing, but it occurred to her that hearing him talk about their home and their future was even better.
They stood there for a long moment, lost in each other’s gazes. Belle realized that love didn’t always have to be dramatic to feel monumental. Sometimes it was just this…just the feeling of being exactly where you were meant to be.
Victor moved first, pulling her close, the heat of him settling into her. Belle nuzzled against his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding her.
Together, they worked to undress each other, taking their time, kissing each newly bared patch of skin.
All Belle could think as she touched him, kissed him, licked those very lickable muscles of his was, He’s mine.
This sexy, sweet, possessive, protective, romantic man was all hers. Tonight was just the first of many.
When they were naked, Victor led her to the bed. She sat on the edge, intent on climbing in, but he stopped her, sinking to his knees.
“Don’t move,” he commanded, as he pressed her thighs open.
Victor made going down on her an artform, and by this point, she was convinced he knew her body better than she did.
He definitely knew how to make her come quicker than she could manage on her own, and she had well over a decade of practice behind her.
Belle sat up, watching as he licked her slit, as his tongue teased her clit in that way that made her see stars.
“Victor.” Her fingers closed in his long hair, and he grunted when she pulled it tightly.
Her fingers loosened, but he shook his head. “Keep holding on, Sunshine.”
She didn’t have much choice but to do just that when he lowered his head and sucked her clit into his mouth with a roughness that went through her like an electric shock. Belle wasn’t surprised that Victor fucked like he played hockey—aggressive, determined, and all in.
The first few times they’d slept together, he’d stopped mid-hair pull or whenever his fingers gripped her too tightly, apologizing, while making sure she was okay.
Belle put an end to that quickly, assuring him that she wasn’t made of glass, that she craved his powerful touches. She promised to let him know if anything he did hurt, and if she didn’t say anything, then no apologies were necessary.
He hadn’t apologized since then, because she hadn’t lodged one single complaint. If anything, their passion had grown more heated and even rougher when it became obvious to both of them that she liked her pleasure laced with a hint of pain.
Victor pushed two fingers inside her, thrusting them with enough force that she was helpless to hang on.
She fell back on the bed as the dam broke and her orgasm washed away everything in its path.
Her back arched and she covered her own mouth, trying to mute her cries of bliss.
They were both still cognizant of Pip sleeping down the hallway.
She wouldn’t have thought it would be so hard to come quietly. After all, she’d never screamed in bed prior to Victor. In truth, she’d thought loud wails and screams were myths perpetuated by porn movies. However, keeping quiet with Victor was a real problem.
His fingers continued to stroke her, drawing out her climax even as he lifted his head, his gaze locked on her face. He admitted once that he loved watching her come.
Once the flutters in her pussy started to wane, he pulled his fingers out, sucking her juices off like she was the tastiest treat at the bakery.
“I can’t wait to hear those cries of yours,” he said. “I’m going to make you scream my name every fucking night.”
Victor’s deep voice always came across as menacing, but Belle never felt an ounce of threat. If anything, it only fueled her need for him.
Because here she was, two minutes after coming, and her body was already clamoring for more.
She wrapped her hands around his neck, intent on pulling him over her body.
When she couldn’t budge him, she added her legs to the mix, trying to drag him down with her ankles crossed at the base of his spine.
Victor, the strong bastard, held firm, impossible to move.
“Victor,” she pouted, not bothering to temper the whine that laced his name.
“Flip over,” he said, one hand on her hip, pushing with enough force to turn her himself.
Once she was on her stomach, Belle attempted to rise, planning to shift to the center of the bed. Victor halted her movement with a quick, hard slap on her bare ass.
“Ow!” she said, dropping to the bed as one of her hands flew back to cover her ass cheek.
Victor wasn’t deterred as he spanked the other cheek just as hard.
Belle tried to wiggle away, but Victor straddled her, using his thick, tree-trunk sized thighs to hold her in place.
“Hold still,” he demanded.
She did.
Belle had never been with a dominant lover before Victor, so she hadn’t realized she possessed this innate submissiveness that longed to please.
When she read romance books, she tended to go for the spicy ones with possessive, touch-her-and-die vibes, but she hadn’t realized just how deeply those resonated with her.
She’d read them as a way to get her motor revving pre-masturbation, thinking the fantasy of them were hot, but never truly seeing herself in the role of the heroine.
Victor was bringing the fantasies to life, and they were revealing a side of her she’d never let herself acknowledge or even recognize.
He spanked her again. This time, the smack was a little lighter, lower down, more on her upper thigh than ass.
Belle’s initial self-preservation reaction had been driven by the sharp, sudden, unexpected pain, but now that she was anticipating the blows, the sensations were different.
Victor smacked her yet again. This time, his hand lingered, squeezing the heated skin he’d just reddened. His grip drew out the sting, but not in a bad way.
Belle shuddered, feeling the fresh round of juices wetting her thighs.