Chapter 22 #3
Wanting to shift the conversation, I ask, “How’s Renee?”
At this question, her smile takes over her face. “She’s having a baby.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
Still smiling, she glides her hands to my stomach and grips my shirt. “We’re gonna be grandparents.”
At that, I laugh. Tatum never wanted children, the same as I didn’t, yet we’ve done more parenting of Renee than her mother has. Marilyn has done the best she could, but at the end of the day, she just doesn’t have the capacity that Tatum and I do.
I know that Tatum has loved every minute of parenting Renee as much as I have, but now I see just how deep that love is. Her eyes hold a mixture of love and maternal softness unlike anything I’ve ever seen in her.
“Yeah, Vegas, we’re gonna be grandparents.”
Tears glisten in her eyes as she grips my shirt harder and searches my eyes silently for a long moment. Finally, she blinks them away and says, “You need to figure out how to build a treehouse.”
“Because?”
“Well, do you really think Greg has it in him to build one? The guy might be one of the best lawyers I know, but those hands of his are not made for hammers and nails.”
She’s not wrong, but there’s something else here. I can hear it in her voice. “Why a treehouse? The kid won’t need one for years.”
She takes her time before saying softly, “I never had a treehouse as a child and it’s all I wanted. Our grandchildren need a treehouse.”
Fuck me, this woman is something else and I will never know what I did to deserve her.
I kiss her, taking my time with it, showing her how much I love her. When I let her go, I say, “Our grandchildren will have the best fucking treehouse there ever was.”
The door to the back deck slides open and King’s voice comes from behind me. “We need to go, brother.”
As he walks away, Tatum’s eyes hold mine, the lust in them undeniable. “Bring your fury with you tonight.”
She doesn’t need to ask twice. What my wife wants in the bedroom, she always gets.
Tatum’s POV
8:30 p.m.
The sound of Nitro’s bike pulling into our driveway causes a rush of desire to flood my veins. Hell, that need for him has been a living, breathing thing in my veins all day.
I leave the bedroom and make my way down the hallway towards him, sucking in a breath when I lay eyes on him.
He’s brought his fury.
And a whole lot of lust.
Nitro is a powerhouse of muscle. He always has been, but the last few years have seen even more muscle packed onto his body.
My man is solid power and strength, and as he walks my way with that determined look in his eyes that always means I’m in for the best sex, I thank the universe for giving him to me.
Not just because he knows all the ways I like to be fucked, but because he loves with every fibre in his being.
When his gaze drops to the black lacy cami top I chose for tonight, the appreciation that fills his face chases another rush of need for him through my entire body.
Nitro knows exactly why I selected this cami, and I can read every thought now filling his mind.
This top, with all its straps and buttons, was made for a man who likes to take his time removing his woman’s clothes with a knife.
He slows his approach, but only for a moment. Then, he’s got me over his shoulder as he strides into our bedroom and drops me on the bed.
The anticipation and thrill I feel is the same that I always feel whenever I know he’s going to use his knife. Over the years, I’ve come to love it as much as he does.
Nothing makes me submit to Nitro like his blade. And if anyone had suggested years ago that I would want to submit to my husband, I would have laughed in their face. But here we are, and my submission guarantees multiple orgasms unlike any I had before I learned the art of this.
“You brought your fury,” I whisper as he moves on top of me, nudging my legs wide with his knee.
He keeps his eyes firmly on mine while reaching down to his boot for his knife. “That’s what you asked for.” His voice is rough. Turned on. So fucking turned on.
The silver glint of the blade as he presses the tip of it to my chest makes me still.
The fear that always lives inside me during our knife play roars to life and I lose myself in it.
Nitro has all the control here and I trust him completely, but playing on the edge like this always has danger attached.
One wrong move from me, and I could be in a world of pain.
Drawing blood isn’t the goal for us, but it’s always a possibility.
And that’s where the thrill lives.
The possibility.
The danger.
The unpredictability.
I want every second of this with Nitro.
“Show me,” I beg as he runs the knife tip along the skin at the edge of my lacy top, over my breasts and in between each of the three tiny straps that run from the shoulder straps down to the centre of my cleavage.
The determined expression he’s wearing intensifies. “Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”
I hold my breath when he lightly drags the sharp edge of the knife over my breast. “I want you to forget you’re my husband. Forget you care about me. Forget that gentle even exists.”
He hisses his disapproval. Nitro doesn’t love it when I request this. He might bring his fury to our bedroom, but that doesn’t mean he ever forgets I’m the woman he loves. I sometimes want rough-as-fuck sex with him, and when I ask him for that, I know he struggles.
I go against all my rules for when he has a knife to my skin, and I reach for him.
Absolute stillness is best to ensure no blood is drawn, but a week without him means I’m desperate to touch him.
“When I told you I want your fury, I meant I want all of it. I want you to lose yourself in me so I can lose myself completely in you.”
I see the battle he wages.
Asking him to do this is asking him to connect with a part of himself he doesn’t tend to share with me. The darker side he reserves for the club work he does. But tonight, I want all of him. I need all of him.
He slices one of the straps at my cleavage. Then, another. And another.
His pace picks up as he reaches his free hand down to undo the button on my jeans. A moment later, he’s got the zipper down and is ordering me to remove my jeans.
“Touch yourself,” he says while slicing another strap from my top.
I slide my hand into my panties and find my clit.
Nitro lifts the blade from my chest as he shifts his gaze to my pussy. He watches what I’m doing for a moment before bringing his knife to my panties and using the tip of it to push them down so he can see my fingers and pussy.
The low, guttural sound he makes when his eyes lock onto my clit is almost enough to make me come. I manage to hold my orgasm back, closing my eyes and arching my back while it teases my edge.
“I need your mouth on me.” The words breathe out of me desperately.
Nitro curls a hand around my wrist, stopping me from touching myself. He then slowly cuts my panties in half and pushes them out of the way before placing the knife on the bedside table and bending his mouth to my pussy.
He circles his tongue around my clit over and over. I watch until the pleasure is so great that all I can focus on is that. My eyes squeeze closed, my fingers dig into his hair, and the pleasure consumes me.
When he roughly shoves two fingers inside me a few minutes later, my back arches even more.
Fuck. Yes.
“You test me, Vegas,” he growls as he finger fucks me with all that fury of his.
My eyes flick open, and I find his wild eyes firmly on mine. “You won’t hurt me.”
“I fucking might.”
“I’ll tell you if you do, but you never have.”
He pulls his fingers out of me and moves so fast I struggle to keep up. A few moments later, he’s got his clothes off, he’s got me pinned under him, and he’s got one of my legs up over his shoulder. “I would never forgive myself if I hurt you.”
My breaths come fast as I stare up into the eyes of the man I love who is looking down at me with such a mixture of emotions. For a moment, I wonder if he’ll give me what I want. He always has in the past, but there’s something different about him tonight and I’m unsure which way he’ll go.
He wages a silent battle for a few moments before finally slamming his dick inside me and letting his fury take over completely.
I hold on tightly while he fucks me like he’s only here for his own pleasure.
I can’t get enough.
I fuck him back like I’m only here for my own pleasure.
I use his body just as much as he uses mine and I’m as rough with him as he is with me.
Nitro takes me to the edge over and over, and by the time we both orgasm, I’m so spent that it’s going to take me a while to recover.
I collapse into his arms, and he pulls me close. I don’t even have the energy to lift my face and look at him as I say, “Just so you know, you didn’t hurt me.”
“I better fucking not have,” he says roughly, his arm tightening around me.
The love I hear in his voice causes me to summon the energy to look at him. “You worry too much.”
“I’ll never stop worrying about you.”
“I think being a grandfather will be good for you.”
He arches a brow. “Because?”
I smile and curve my leg over his. “Because it’ll give you someone else to focus all your worry on other than me. Maybe once you’re a grandfather, you’ll get better at fucking me because you won’t be worrying over me anymore.”
A look of exasperation fills his features, but I see the love behind it too. “You’ll be the fucking end of me.”
I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s said this to me during our marriage. It’s Nitro speak for “I fucking love you, woman.”
No one loves me as well as Nitro does.
Our first ten years together were the best ten years of my life, and I can’t wait to be loved by him for another ten.
I smile and curl myself deeper into his arms. “I love you too.”