Chapter 37
Lark
He buries himself inside me and it’s as if I’m forced right back into my body.
Like someone shot a syringe loaded with adrenaline into my heart.
My pulse rate rockets. My blood begins to flow again.
I bring my arms and legs up and wrap them around him, wanting to hold him so very close.
He seems to understand my need and stays still, his dick buried in me, his balls flat against my pussy, his gaze holding mine, his lips above mine.
We stare at each other. The world seems to slow.
Our breathing, our heart beats, the rise and fall of our chests synchronize. One life. Two bodies. It’s the most intimate I’ve ever been with anyone. More intimate than the times with my ex.
This feels different. More heartfelt.
Maybe it’s because of the number of times he made me come, making me feel disjointed.
My bones have liquefied. My brain cells have turned to water.
But my heart? It beats strongly in my chest. And my skin is very aware of his nearness, and the weight of his body on mine.
And I feel him throb inside me. And grow bigger.
And push against my inner walls. I feel pinned in place. Caught in his magnetic gaze.
Then he lowers his chin and gently brushes his lips over mine. His touch is so soft. So sweet. So raw. It undoes me. I’ve never felt this close to someone else. It must be because my emotions are so close to the surface that I feel tears well up. A droplet squeezes out from the corner of my eye.
"Are you okay?" He searches my features. "Tell me, Lark?"
"I’m not." I sniffle.
Alarm whips through his gaze.
I can't let him know how strong my emotions are right now. I’m in love with him, but he might never love me. I can’t tell him that. Instead, I use the one thing that will distract him: sex.
"Because you haven’t started fucking me properly."
The tension leaves his shoulders. One side of his lips quirk.
Then his biceps flex as he shifts his weight.
He pulls out of me, then thrusts back inside with enough force that the entire bed moves.
He impales me and hits my G-spot. Shock waves of heat whip up my spine.
I can feel it all the way to the roots of my hair.
"Wow." I grab hold of his shoulders and hold on.
"I’ll take that as an affirmation." He pulls out again, then plunges into me. This time, the headboard slams into the wall.
Once again, he hits my G-spot. I tremble and lock my ankles around his waist. The fact that I can see his eyes, and the look of ecstasy on his features, adds to the feeling that this is special.
He continues to tunnel into me.
The ridge of his pelvis brushes up against my clit, and the shock waves turn into a tsunami of sensations which crowd my mind and shut down any possibility of thinking.
The next time he pushes into me, I tighten my inner walls around him. He falters. "Fuck, Siren, what are you doing to me?"
I love that his jaw is tight. And the nerve that throbs at his temple tells me how affected he is, too.
The tendons of his beautiful throat stand out in relief. And his biceps flex as he holds up the weight of his body. When I run a finger over his shoulder and down the center of that impressive chest, the muscles jump underneath his skin.
Damn, he may hold the control, but I have power, too. I circle his very male nipple, and he makes a growling sound at the back of his throat. It delights me and turns me on further. Enough for my pussy to flutter around his cock.
"Jesus, just when I thought you couldn’t feel any better, you prove me wrong.
" He begins to fuck into me again. And again. The sensations begin to build in my lower belly. Building and folding in on themselves and extending to my thighs, my waist, my entire torso. When he makes a noise at the back of his throat, I realize he’s very close as well.
And I want to see him come inside me. So much.
I rise up, meeting his every thrust, pushing up my breasts so they’re plastered against his chest. I lock my arms around his neck and lift up my chin, trembling as he continues to hit that elusive part inside of me.
And when he slides his hand down to squeeze my butt, I whimper and gasp, knowing I’m close.
So close. But I can’t come until he lets me. He’s trained me so well.
He tilts his hips, making sure to hit my clit at a particularly intimate angle. Shock waves screech up and over me. Please. Please.
I must say it aloud for he growls, "Come."
A long cry emerges from me. Like a wounded animal.
Or one which has found salvation. Maybe that’s what this flare of golden light engulfing my vision is about.
I hold onto him, keep my eyes open and am rewarded when, with a harsh cry, he empties himself inside me.
Only then do I let my eyelids flutter down and my arms release their hold on him as I collapse onto the bed.
He kisses my forehead and pulls out of me gently. Then looks down to where the cum drips out of me.
His forehead crinkles. "I didn’t wear a condom." He looks up and searches my features, waiting for my reaction.
"I’m on birth control."
He nods slowly. "I’ve been tested. I’m clean.”
"Likewise.” I yawn.
He cups my cheek. “To be clear, I don’t intend to sleep with anyone else, but you.”
“And I, you.” I take in the tenderness in his eyes. His soft expression. How his gaze on my features feels like a caress. His promise of loyalty layered on top of the wedding vows feel achingly close to a declaration of love.
He may not have said it aloud, but I feel positive that he feels something deeper for me.
“You do realize I’m falling for you, right?” I whisper.
The tendons of his throat flex as he swallows.
I’m crushed when he doesn’t reciprocate my words.
Heat pricks behind my eyes. I swallow. I really don’t want to cry again.
He must sense the emotions welling up in me, for he lowers his chin and kisses me until I’m breathless. Until I’ve forgotten everything, except how it feels to be in his arms.
Then he flips both of us so I’m on his chest. I place my head against where his heart beats against his rib cage.
Let the thump-thump-thump soothe me to sleep.
When I open my eyes a few hours later, it’s to find I’m on my side facing him.
He’s asleep on his back, one arm bent and under his neck, his head turned to me.
I take the opportunity to study him when he’s not aware.
Long eyelashes curl up in an almost feminine manner that enhances the angles of his cheekbones, the singularity of his straight nose, the square jaw, that stubborn chin, the broad forehead which hints at the intelligence I see in his eyes.
He’s handsome, but it’s more than that. There’s a sense of power clinging to him. A charisma very few people possess. The kind which allows him to lead a company. Can I do that?
It’s not because I’m a woman that I’m doubting myself. I’ve never felt being one has ever put me at a disadvantage. It’s more that I’ve never been in such a senior role before. Which is not to say I can’t do it. But it’s daunting.
I’ll need to draw on my reserves of energy and stamina, and my ability to persevere. It’s going to be a stretch, but the fact that he believes in me? That’s what has made me even consider the possibility of accepting this role.
"You’re thinking too hard." He smirks with his eyes closed.
"How did you know I was awake?"
"I can sense everything about you, baby." He turns more fully to face me and opens his eyes. And like the first time when he fixed me with those gunmetal eyes, I’m entranced.
There’ll never not be a time when I’m not in thrall of being the focus of his attention. Bewitched. Spellbound by how the touch of his eyes on my face leaves pinpricks of awareness in their wake.
"And what am I thinking now?" I flutter my eyelashes, hoping to distract him.
I don’t want him to guess the self-doubt that fills me with this new role he wants me to take. It feels important that he sees me as capable. Is that because I still see him in the role of my boss?
Maybe I haven’t transitioned to him being my husband.
Though in bed, with both of us naked, it’s difficult to think of anything other than how I can get him to use me for his pleasure.
Maybe my thoughts flicker in my eyes, for his own glint. "You’re thinking you want me to make use of your body."
I try and fail to stop my jaw from dropping.
“How did you—" I gasp as he throws me on my back and covers my body with his.
"How did I guess?"
I begin to nod, then shake my head. “I can’t say I’m completely surprised you did. I haven’t been able to hide my thoughts from you." I frown. "Though I hope I’m not that transparent."
"You’re not, except to me," he says in a quietly confident tone. One that has no sign of smugness. It’s almost a statement. One that implies he knows me. That he watches me closely. One that gives me immense satisfaction.
"You going to fuck me then?" I sigh.
He chuckles. "You, using the F-word, is strangely arousing."
"Same." I lower my chin.
And when I feel the stab of his cock between my legs, a helpless shudder scrolls through me.
"Brody." I cup his cheek. The tenderness I feel for him always takes me by surprise. Because he’s the big, bad dominant. And I want him to order me to do his bidding. There’s security in it.
Home, a sense of belonging which is strangely calming.
I don’t have to make choices. Or decisions.
I trust him to make them for me. And it’s that trust, that devotion he inspires in me, which also inspires this absolute loyalty.
I’m afraid I’m falling deeper in love with him.
"Brody," I whisper again. I want to give voice to my thoughts, but hold back… Because he doesn’t. He’s made it clear; something as silly as falling in love is not for him.
Sadly, that’s not going to stop me from feeling what I do.
Or from taking pleasure in how he draws orgasms from my body.
Nothing wrong with that, either. Not when I don’t know how things are going to be once we’re back in London.
This. Here. Now, is what I have with him. I’m going to make the most of it.
I’m sure he’s going to breach me with his cock, which has grown bigger, thicker, and more insistent over the last few minutes. Instead, he shoves off me and lays on his back, then pats his chest.
"Get on here."