51. Gwen #2
“Always.” Lance smirks as he places his hands on my hips and brings his face to mine, planting a peck on my nose.
“What’s in the pool house?” His smile falters, and a guilty look flashes across his face. Guilt, maybe? “Lancelot Henry Tayor, what are you hiding in the pool house?”
He shakes himself free from shock, and I can almost see him place his cool mask on. “Nothing. I told you. It’s my gym.”
“Then why don’t you use it?”
“Because I only use it during the off-season.” He’s too quick with his answer, and I can’t help thinking he’s hiding something.
“Makes sense,” I admit, giving him a false sense of security. “Thank you for being honest.”
I lean forward and kiss him, shoving my tongue into his mouth as I reach for his cock, stroking the blood back into it. When he’s hard and thrusting into my hand, I pull back and jump to my feet, hot cum dripping down my thighs.
Lance watches, torn between possessively staring at the cum leaking from between my legs and deciphering my next move.
“I know you’re hiding something in there, and I want to know what it is.”
“Gwen,” Lance warns, reaching for me.
Shaking my head, I step back.
“Don’t.”
“Then I guess you’re going to have to catch me to stop me.” I’m already running before I finish my sentence.
“When I catch you, I’m going to punish you,” he growls from behind me.
Fear and lust spike my adrenaline as I reach the pool house, twisting the knob and wrenching open the door. The room is dark, but it doesn’t hide the clutter.
Lance wraps his arms around my waist, tugging me back against his naked chest.
“Why is this place filled with furniture?”
“Shit,” he grunts.
“Just be honest,” I beg. Nothing is making sense.
He spins me around. “I lied.”
“I don’t like that.” I push him back and cross my arms over my chest, waiting for him to explain.
“It’s not that big a deal, okay? I just lied about all the guest rooms not being furnished.”
“Wait, what? If the bedrooms had furniture, then why is it all out here?”
Lance sighs. “Because I didn’t want you sleeping in a separate bedroom. I wanted you to sleep in my bed. With me.”
Schooling my features as all the details fall into place, I glance up at my husband. “Let me get this straight. You emptied all the bedrooms so I would be forced to share your room?”
“Yes.” His admission makes my heart flutter behind my ribcage.
“Why?” I ask. I have an idea, but I want to hear him confirm it.
“To make you fall in love with me,” he states with a straight face.
My mind goes back to the day we met at the donut shop, and I wrote the list of rules for our marriage. “Did you plan this before or after we met up to talk about the proposal?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
He eyes me warily but eventually gives in. “Before. The moment I proposed, everything changed. Our marriage has been real to me from the start.”
His confession fills my heart with love, making it grow three sizes in my chest. If he can give me his truth, then I can give him mine.
“I wanted it to be real too.” I admit.
“You did?”
How did he not know?
Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose and breathe through my nerves.
My heart races, and my palms get clammy.
“Lance, before we met, I had the hugest crush on you. Then we shared that one night, and I was a goner. I have wanted you for so long. I only put distance between us because I was afraid of getting hurt and losing you.”
“You could never lose me, little witch. I told you, you cast a spell on me and now I’m yours forever.”
“And I’m yours.”
“Yeah, you are, Mrs. Taylor.” His eyes sparkle in the moonlight as he grabs my butt and lifts me in the air, my arms and legs circling his large frame. Our centers align, and I can feel his semi-hard cock caught between us. “I have one more confession to make.”
I cup his cheeks in my palms, staring into his eyes. “What did you do?”
Lance licks his lower lip. “I was the one who tipped off the tabloids about us.”
He what?
Before I can respond, Lance kisses me, hard and deep. My brain glitches and I melt into him as his tongue curls around mine. His fingers dig into my butt cheeks as he holds me in his arms.
I know he’s trying to distract me so that I don’t get angry at his scheming. So much anger and hurt could have been avoided if he had told me his plan; then maybe I would’ve talked to my father sooner.
Would you have, though?
Any anger I can muster fizzles out because the truth is I was nowhere near ready to talk to Dad about Lance. My husband made the right call.
And seeing as my dad and I worked everything out, my dream job is mine, and my relationship with Lance is as strong as ever, I don’t care about how we were outed to my family.
I have everything I want.
When we break apart, the only thing on my mind is getting my husband inside me.
“I forgive you,” I pant.
Lance gives me a cocky grin. “Knew you would. Now, what do you say, from here on out, no more bad runs, just hot streaks?”
“How hot are we talking?” I ask, rubbing my slit over his hard shaft.
“Burning. Scorching,” he grumbles, walking into the pool house and laying me down on the stack of beds in the middle of the room. “So fucking hot you’re going to be dehydrated. You think you can handle my heat?”
I throw my head back and laugh. “I think I can handle your heat, Husband.” Locking my ankles at the base of his spine, I align our hips, guiding his tip to my entrance. “Question is, can you handle mine?”
He slowly sinks his cock into my pussy, one thick inch at a time. “I can handle anything you throw my way, little witch.”
We begin to move in sync and let our bodies finish doing the talking, and they both agree right here is where we belong.