Chapter 30 #2
“I love it when you tell me what to do.” He kissed her cheek, then took her earlobe in his teeth, tugging gently. When he slid a finger inside her, she clenched around him. “Order me about for your pleasure, Dora. Tell me what you want. Command me. I am yours for the commanding.”
Her eyes turned to his, surprise in their depths, but to his delight, she didn’t hesitate. “I want you inside me,” she whispered.
Isadora had never felt this kind of power before—she felt heady with it, pride and delight and eagerness firing in her veins at the thought of Nicholas, so stoic, so in control, offering himself to her, allowing her to command him.
She had brought him to his knees…
She pushed him on his back, and he immediately went, lying himself out for her. His winterbell eyes were heated, burning into hers as he waited… And waited.
She took her delicious time, reveling in his absolute obedience.
No matter how much he hungered for her—and she could see in his face how much he did—he waited for her.
Besides, like this, she could take a look at him in all his naked glory.
Such a honed male body; battered and bruised, perhaps, some bruises fading, but kept so strong and muscular.
She didn’t like his fighting, but she couldn’t argue that it made him rather spectacularly honed.
If only he could leave the bruises behind now.
She ripped the rest of his shirt at its buttons, then traced them slowly, and his eyes watched every movement.
“You went back,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He drew in a sharp breath, but she had no intention of giving in to the call of her body until she understood—and until she had the assurance that they were moving forward in a way that she could bear.
“I had a lot on my mind…” he said carefully.
“And sometimes, when I’m there, I can ignore the rest of the world.
The same reasons as before. And when things were so unsettled at home, it felt as though I had nowhere to be.
But that was because I didn’t speak with you about it.
I was ashamed.” He made no attempt to hide his bruises or reach for her, delivering his explanation in a flat voice that made her heart ache a little.
“But this time, it… it didn’t work. All I could think about was coming back to you.
I’m sorry, and I promise to you now that I will never do that again. ”
She nodded, nearly tearing up. “All I want is for you to be safe.”
“I know, Dora.”
“Thank you.” Finally, she moved, climbing over him, feeling as though she had been waiting for hours, maybe days.
Nicholas had made her wait for weeks, but she was finally getting her due as a wife, and he clamped her hips in his hands as though he wished for nothing more than to hold her in place above him.
His fingers dug into her skin, but rather than uncomfortable, it made her feel a little alive, as though he was transferring his want to her through the pressure.
She felt so utterly alive, lining herself up above him and sliding his arousal through her slickness and putting the head at her entrance.
“Children…” she breathed as his eyes glazed. He throbbed in her hand, eagerness incarnate.
“If you want them,” he gasped, hips bucking, “I want a family with you. I love you, Isadora.”
She sank all the way down on him, the stretch, the fullness, making her feel as though she was complete for the first time in weeks. Since he had last been in her bed, making love to her with such gentle passion.
Now, his passion seemed anything but gentle. There was raw desperation on his face as he clung to her, and she understood that his need almost transcended hers, and that he was holding on deliberately so he could worship her, cherish her—even though he wanted nothing more than to take back control.
She raised herself up and brought herself back down onto him. He grunted as she ground him deep inside. Again. Again.
“Isadora…” he groaned.
“Shh. I’m in control now.” She grinned wickedly, taking him languidly. His breathing hitched, and she slowed, keeping him from the very edge.
He tossed his head on the pillow. “You will be the death of me…” he rasped.
“Then you will take the memory of this into your grave.” She kissed him, the seconds dripping by like honey as she made love to him, and her own climax tightened inside her.
It sneaked closer without her realizing, and when she drew apart, she slowed, realizing she trembled on the very brink.
Her thighs shook as she tried to hold herself back, to wait for him the way she had planned.
Nicholas sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist, positioning her so she was sitting upon his thighs, with his arousal still inside her, pulsing a little. His eyes were clear as they looked into hers, and his strong arms held her tightly.
Though he said nothing, she knew what he meant: you’re safe. I have got you.
Perhaps she was foolish to agree, to capitulate so easily after all he had done, but when she saw sincerity, how could she help but believe him?
“I love you…” she moaned as pleasure washed over her. He held her tight as she convulsed, murmuring reassurances as she fell apart around him, inside his arms. His jaw was gritted, and as she fell, so did he, groaning as he spilled himself inside her.
This was everything she could have hoped for, and she lay inside his arms, sated and comfortable.
“I want to move you permanently into my bedchamber,” he mumbled, nuzzling her neck. “I want you to take your place as my wife in every possible respect.”
Her lips curved in a sleepy, contented smile. “Forever?”
He kissed them deeply. “I want every day of it.”