20. Helen
CHAPTER TWENTY
I eased myself to a comfortable stop with an amused smile on my face.
Warm water lapped around my waist and steam fogged the bathroom.
Most coherent thoughts fled from my mind as I leaned forward, adjusting my position and placing my arms on sturdy shoulders.
His heartbeat thundered against my chest and his short shallow breaths widened my smile.
“I’m glad you survived sparring practice with Gizmo this morning,” I said, tracing a finger over the minor cut on his bottom lip.
“Oh, you should look a bit closer.” Drake turned his head this way and that. His head tipped back and revealed a bruise blooming under his jaw. He hummed when I swirled the pad of my thumb around the slight discoloration.
“I could kill him for hurting your pretty face.” A slight shift of my hips knocked a low groan from me. Drake’s smirk wavered as a grunt left his throat.
“You think I’m pretty,” he said, leaning forward in search of more.
Our noses bumped together, and everything surrounding us fell away as the hardness inside me throbbed.
His breath on my lips made everything condense in that moment, stretching on.
We should have been doing this sooner, enjoying one another.
It seemed a waste to have spent all those weeks threatening to kill him when he had the cock of a god.
“Pretty arrogant,” I scoffed, though it faltered into a moan when he thrust up the barest amount.
“Arrogant?” Drake drawled. He cupped my cheek, and I leaned into his palm. His thumb swiped over my bottom lip, and I nearly sucked it into my mouth. “You better watch that pretty mouth of yours, Monty.”
“Oh?” I crooned, smiling wickedly. My hips lifted, dragging him through my inner walls until only the tip of his impressive length remained inside.
Without warning, I slammed back down, stealing a string of growls from the man beneath me.
“And here I was thinking you were mad at me for biting you last night.”
Drake glanced down through the bathwater at where we were connected. He huffed a brief laugh, watching his cock slip in and out of me through the sudsy bubbles on the surface. “I swear it’s a hate boner.”
He groaned when I bit his bottom lip, digging my teeth in with the intent to cause pain. I released him, sneering playfully. “Go fuck someone you don’t hate, then.”
He snared his fingers in my hair, caging me against his chest. Even though I was on top, straddling him, he held on to the control. He could maneuver me as he pleased, proving it by grinding up into me until my hips rolled in tandem with his.
“I don’t want anyone else.” His low growl in my ear sent a frisson of heat down my spine. And the words made me clench around him. “No one else can make me feel like you do. It’s you, Monty. It’s always been you.”
His kiss was soft, meaningful. The way his tongue licked across the seam of my lips before I permitted him in was tentative, slow.
A hand on my hip trapped me against him, full of his cock and seated to the hilt.
That angle made it feel so deep, and his mouth muffled my whine when it throbbed within me.
He increased the fervor of the kiss, devouring my mouth and swiping his tongue over mine as if to make sure I knew how desperately he meant it.
Dragging my fingers over his scalp, I tugged his head back, making a complete mess of his already mussed black hair. Rising enough to make a point of looking down my nose at him, I said, “Then you should worship me if that’s the case.”
“I will.” My hips rolled; he groaned. “Fuck, I do.”
Lifting on him again and again stole his focus.
The pleasure of him stretching me, hitting those places receptive to bliss, sent us into a delicious spiral.
I rocked in his lap, up and down. Water sloshed in the tub, echoing the crescendo of our moans.
His hands scrambled on my hips, digging into my flesh hard enough to leave bruises—they would pair well with the other love marks he’d left the past few days.
Drake and I had been inseparable since the night we slept in one another’s arms. That night of passion brought us together in a way I wouldn’t have foreseen months ago.
We lost ourselves in the what ifs and could haves as they became our right now.
It was better than dreams—this blissful time of reunion, of reacquaintance, was our reality.
During the days of our short, hidden honeymoon, I allowed myself to indulge in Drake in a way we’d never had the chance to before.
They weren’t quick meetings in a hotel over the summer or secret trysts in empty rooms at school.
We were alone; we were safe. He consumed me, bodily, wholly, as if his very life depended on it.
Drake filled me every chance he got. Waking at random intervals through the night, slipping his cock inside my willing, wet cunt until I dripped with our combined release.
In every room of the cottage, though, that wasn’t difficult, given the size of the place.
Still, he put great effort into christening every surface, filling the air with grunts and moans.
My husband surprised me at every turn. He made breakfast in the morning, serving my hazelnut coffee just the way I liked it. Then he’d bend me over the counters, wipe his fingers through the arousal coating my thighs, eat me out until I cried his name and fucked me brainless.
He joined me in the office, poring over the connections I made, helping me cross out names and adding his own intel to my documents.
By noon the office became cluttered with paperwork on nearly every surface, pinned to the wall, highlighted, with strings pinned to connecting potentials.
Caught up in the excitement, he’d tackle me to the floor, sink his hard cock into my slick cunt, and rut me into oblivion.
Naturally, he cooked lunch as well. The man maneuvered through a kitchen with professional ease, reminding me that there was so much about him from the past ten years I didn’t yet know. And I wanted to learn, to know every aspect of the man bound to me for life.
I knew him once. I loved him once. Perhaps, by some twist of fate, I might love him again.
It was a dangerous possibility… or maybe not.
This time around, we were not only allowed to be together, but forced into our arrangement.
A second chance heaped on my shoulders. No longer shackles, a ball and chain, but a gift in disguise.
In bed at night, he learned me, adored me, and worshiped me. My mind and body, both stimulated by him. His touch, his tongue, his cock, penetrated so deep I swore he carved his name into my bones.
Drake cooked and packed up a picnic for us.
Spread out on a blanket in the garden, surrounded by sunshine and wildflowers, he made me laugh with stories about his friends and missions.
I laughed until tears streamed from my eyes, and he muffled me with kisses.
His hands slid under my dress, and he spread me out on the quilt.
Under a pale sky and fluffy white clouds, he praised me with endless good girls in my ear as he made me experience the most skin tingling, heart-racing, toe curling sex of my entire life.
My legs shook on the journey back into the cottage and through the entire afternoon.
He massaged my legs, my feet, then rolled me over and rubbed into the muscles of my shoulders and spine.
We napped, dozing comfortably together. Returned to our research in the night before falling together again.
He railed me hard and fast, nailing me to the wall like a piece of art he wanted on display.
After a grand dinner he’d made, I tugged him into the living room, got onto my knees, pulled his glorious cock from his jeans and sucked him off until that strong, dangerous man was moaning—whimpering—from how I unraveled his senses.
He came down my throat, tackled me to the couch and tongue-fucked me to the point my eyes rolled back into my head and almost got stuck there.
I was cross-eyed and seeing stars for the rest of the night.
Hand in hand, we strolled over the safe house property, exploring a walking trail through the trees.
Drake told me of his favorite things to cook, his mother’s reliance on pills, and he cracked open his ribs to show me a side of himself he never had a decade ago.
There was something vulnerable to his eyes, his words, that reeled me in.
Sweaty from walking outside for hours, we’d returned to the cottage.
Though we hadn’t made it to the bathroom to clean up.
Greedy fingers ripped off clothes, leaving them in rumpled piles in the hallway.
Drake picked me up and fucked me against the wall as pictures rattled from the force of his hips snapping into me.
My legs bounced over his shoulders as he drove his steel-hard cock into my drenched cunt, hitting a spot that only he ever reached.
Moans breached my lips, and he kissed down my neck, whispering apologies and praise.
I was never more grateful to Brooke for convincing me to pack lingerie than I was those nights. Drake unwrapped me as one might a coveted, long-awaited present. He treasured me with his tongue, his cock, his fingers.
For what felt like endless days, measured in laughter and moans, gentle touches and tentative smiles, he made me come apart repeatedly.
But more than the mind-altering, body-shaking sex, I loved that he listened to me.
Drake listened to me as if I were a god giving commandments and he was a devotee eager to submit to my will.
Those warm, chestnut eyes held a fire of longing that warmed my insides and unsettled the walls built around my heart.
It was our last night in the cottage. Drake and I shared a bottle of wine, organizing my documents in the office to take back to the city.
There was only so much I could do with scanned copies of my research and theories from home.
I needed to return to the city and delve into the potential connections Drake helped me work out.
There were a few avenues we could explore; low-level thugs that might have had the strength or means to hire a small army against the crime families. Some of the numbers didn’t add up…
“Monty,” Drake’s voice pulled me from my inner rollercoaster. “I can see you thinking too hard.” His hands, warm and wet from the hot water, grabbed my face again. “Stay with me, wife. Right here and right now. Just stay with me.”
“Drake.” I keened as he increased the force of his thrusts beneath us. Water threatened to leap over the lip of the tub, and his hips snapping caused me to bounce on his length. It speared through me, hitting me in a wonderful mix of pleasure-pain. “Please, Drake, please.”
“That’s it, Monty. Look at me. Look at me when I fuck you and stay here in the moment.” He pulled my lips to his, kissing me sweetly before nipping my lip. “I’ll take care of you.”
One hand released my face and dipped below the water. His knuckles tickled my stomach before the calloused pad of his thumb located my clit. I yelped out a sharp moan as he strummed the bundle of nerves.
“You like that, Monty, hm? You like how I touch you?” His voice was almost condescending, and it sent a molten shiver down my spine.
“Yes!” I bounced harder, riding him with all the strength in my legs. “I need it. Merde, I need it.”
His thumb slowed, stroking teasing circles over my clit. The pressure of his cock and the friction from his digit kept me hovering on the edge of release. “Don’t tease me, Drake. Please?—”
“Need me. Need me forever and be needy with me. Need me, want me harder.” His thumb pressed down, my back arched, and a cry tore from my throat.
“I’ll give you everything you want. Give me all your needs, all your desires, and I’ll spend the rest of our lives providing you with everything you need. ”
“Please. Please,” I chanted, mindless, breathless.
“Tell me what you want, Monty. Tell me what it is you need,” his harsh voice broke through the haze, demanding my response.
He spread two fingers around my clit, bracketing where he entered me at a torturously slow pace. A tingling pressure spread through my core, and my cunt fluttered around him.
“Come. Make me come. Please,” I whined, I begged. It didn’t matter as long as he gave. “Putain de merde!”
“God, I fucking love when you beg for me, when you clench on my cock. It feels so good. You—Monty—you feel so good on me. So perfect.” Drake’s thumb returned to my clit and his free hand grasped my hip.
His fingers pressed into my hip bones, urging me to ride him faster.
The coiling in my core thrummed with smoldering heat.
With his thumb on my clit, the sensation struck the kindling that sparked an inferno within me.
“C’est si bon. Tu te sens si bien.”
His hard grip pulled my hips down to be impaled on his girth.
My inner walls gripped him, gushing my arousal around his length.
I screamed as a rapture ripped through me.
Nails digging into his skin as I rode that sensual high.
His grunts filled the air until they fractured, breaking with his impending release.
“You’re so pretty when you come. Fuck, you’re so tight.
” His head dropped back, and I attacked his throat with my lips and teeth.
His muscles flexed beneath me, shaking and tense as I laved his throat with the attention from my mouth.
He came with a long, satisfied growl, filling me with ropes of his release.
Drake held me tight, caging me in the comfort of his embrace.
Our bodies remained connected as he drained the bath and refilled the tub with hot water.
The floral scent of soap filled the air and fresh bubbles kissed my flushed skin.
My mind drifted leagues away as Drake lathered my hair with my shampoo.
His fingers massaging my scalp and soaping up my locks felt like heaven and worked to bring my head back to reality.
The act of washing me in the bath had a new level of intimacy to it—deeper than sex. It was tender and gentle and loving.
Hands still shaking from our rigorous activity, I went to swat his fingers from my hair. “I can do that myself.”
An intoxicated smile curled his lips as he gazed at me with so much adoration my insides turned molten. The gleam in his eyes made my heart twirl. “I know you can, but let me do it. I want to do it.”
Drake contained a warmth that was so wholly familiar and alluring. He felt like safety, like a solid foundation to build new hopes and dreams on. Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to bury my face in him, nuzzle into the heat of his chest and the beat of his heart, and never let him go again.