Chapter 17 #3
A bead of sweat trickles down the side of my face.
My entire body is tense with desire. I lift her off of me and push her to her hands and knees, her bottom facing me.
She’s arching it toward me, and I slide my hand between her thighs, plunging into her with two fingers while with my other hand, I quickly unzip my pants and my cock springs out.
I start to finger fuck her and she shudders, pushing back to meet me.
The sight of her ass is enough to push me over the edge, and my seed spurts onto her creamy cheeks.
At the same time, I feel her spasm around my fingers, and she comes so hard she can barely hold herself up, her head resting on her elbows.
I crush her to me and kiss her violently, and then allow her to sink into my arms as I thread my fingers through her hair in the now familiar gesture. She shudders, arousal replaced by a deep sense of calm and security.
I wish I could keep her like this forever, peaceful and sure of me. But I have more things planned.
I stand up and zip my fly. Tossing her a few napkins, I leave her on the floor to go look for the large cake knife in the kitchen. I haven’t forgotten this part of the wedding celebrations.
She comes to find me a minute later, wearing the slip that came with the wedding dress, but that I hadn’t bothered to put on her.
“Take it off,” I order, “and come help me cut this cake.”
She hesitates, but by the fluttering of her eyelashes, I can tell she’s bashful, not rebellious. She flits the slip off then inches toward me. She’s hungry, but not for cake.
It’s all I can do to restrain myself from pouncing on her again.
Grabbing her, I pull her close, holding her from behind, feeling her full bottom pressed against my thighs, her tiny waist against my cock.
I slide a hand over her lower stomach, imagining the feel of it when it will be swollen with our first child.
Then I stroke her arm, all the way down to her fingers, and encourage her to take the handle of the knife with me.
She does so hesitantly, and I smirk, remembering the two people she’s stabbed in her life.
She clearly knows something about handling knives, but you wouldn’t know it from the way she’s timidly grasping this one.
Together, we cut into the buttercream frosting, and I put a large slice on a plate then hand it to her.
It’s quite a cake. Five layers, each of them a different flavor.
Red velvet, carrot cake, chocolate, cheesecake, vanilla.
I didn’t know what she’d prefer, so I chose them all.
There’s copious amounts of edible glitter, too. I know my girl’s tastes.
But she’s frowning.
“Go on,” I prompt. “Eat.”
She meets my eye without a trace of the timidity she showed when I ordered her to undress. “I’m not hungry. It looks very nice, but I’m not hungry. I don’t want to eat.”
“But you will,” I tell her.
I pull her toward a chair and sit her down firmly in my lap. “I’ll feed you.”
Her hands crisp in her lap and I imagine she’s wondering if my plans are to force-feed her. Poor girl. I sigh as I take a spoon and scoop up a piece of cake. Then I gently bring it to her lips.
“Eat, my darling,” I murmur in her ear.
I feel her melt in my arms at that last word. She opens her mouth, and though she really doesn’t seem to enjoy the spoonful of cake, she swallows it.
I continue to cut into the thick slice of cake, feeding her, until it’s all gone. All the while, my other hand draws circles on her back and I murmur soothing words in her ear. By the time she’s finished eating, she’s nestled against me, a peaceful expression smoothing the worry lines of her face.
“I love you, Mrs. Wells,” I murmur.
She moans at the words, and I know she still believes them. For now. “I... want you,” she answers.
I’ll accept those words for now, though I hope she’ll one day trust me enough to speak the ones I really want to hear.
“You have me,” I breathe into her neck. “You’ll always have me.”
“I wish it were true.”
I stroke her hair sadly. “I’ll prove them to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving them to you.”
She sighs, clutching at the arms that are encircling her.
Again, I wish I could keep her like this forever. I’m annoyed at myself for having planned such a busy day. But I’m impatient to have her see the house. In fact, I’m impatient to see it myself. The only person who’s seen it so far is Vincent.
So I gently lift her up and lead her to the bedroom. I toss a short white dress to her and change my own clothes.
“Do we have to?” she groans. “Can’t we stay here a little while longer?”
“We’re going to our new house,” I answer. “The minute we get there, I’m going to throw you down on our marital bed, and I’m going to keep you there as I fuck you all night long.”
She shivers in happy anticipation and quickly puts on the dress as I chuckle to myself.
Then I spot the phone I left in here. I can’t think of the last time I’ve checked it. It’s very unlike me, but then again, you don’t get married every day.
So, I feel a sudden jolt of anxiety when I lift my eyes down to the screen and notice dozens of missed calls.
Most of them are from Logan. He’s one of the few people who knows what I’m doing, along with Everest, Lucy and Vincent.
I beat Vincent up until I was absolutely sure he wasn’t to blame.
None of them have the same information. Vincent has the location of the house, Lucy arranged this ceremony at her childhood home.
My driver of course brought us here, but he didn’t have the details beforehand, and besides, I don’t allow him a phone, only a beeper that permits me to call him but prevents his communication with anyone else.
Everest and Logan, of course, know everything, but that’s different. They’re Devils.
And I’m not worried about Lucy or the driver, who have both been a constant in my life for years.
We know there are two rats, and one of them has been dealt with. The other rat, whoever it is, can’t possibly know a thing.
There shouldn’t be any reason for Logan to be freaking out right now. And yet he is.
I leave Seraphina to finish getting dressed in the bedroom, and go back to the living room. As dread slowly creeps in, I call Logan back.
He answers almost immediately. “What the fuck, Damien? Where’ve you been?”
“Getting married,” I spit out. “What’s going on?”
“You need to get the hell out of there, man. Noel is coming.”
“What?”
“I said,” snaps Logan, as if I was too stupid or too deaf to understand the first time, “get out. Noel is on his way. He has a gun, and he’s planning to kill Seraphina.”