Chapter 35 #2
Dante and Angel were ensconced in a huge dog bed near the unlit fireplace in the living room. Dante lifted his head and glanced at the gas log as if he expected me to light it. I obliged his wishes.
Although I was still a bit sore, Natasha was much better.
I was, of course, delighted she was well, but had to force myself to remember she was fifteen years younger than me, exceptionally fit, and hadn’t been injured as badly in the first place.
Although she’d been shot at close range, the small-caliber round hadn’t been a hollow point, and passed through her body at an angle, thankfully just missing her internal organs.
I was even growing used to my new low carb, low fat diet, which she managed with the determination of a general commanding their troops, much to the irritation of our private nurse.
God, I already missed her lemon cannelloni, but it was a small price to pay for the happiness shining in her face.
Of course, Natasha was an imaginative cook.
I was sure she could come up with a healthier version.
I hadn’t told her yet, but I transferred ownership of my house in California to Saoirse.
The property held too many memories, and I wanted us to have a fresh start.
Finland seemed as good a place as any for that, but I’d also purchased an island in the Caribbean.
It didn’t have an active volcano as Natasha wished for, but the island would eventually boast a magnificent British colonial mansion built just for her with a gourmet kitchen and plenty of space for our burgeoning collection of pets.
At just under four hundred acres, we could even add a few saddle horses.
Or perhaps children, but that would be a conversation for another day.
Whilst her excitement was infectious, it was past time for us to reconnect in the most intimate of ways. Between the endless video conferences spent with Ella gathering information on Ronan’s known associates, recovering from our injuries, and absolutely no privacy, we’d barely even kissed.
Thanks to Ella’s people, Ronan’s body was found burned beyond recognition in an accidental garage fire, and all evidence of our presence was removed from the house and from Ronan’s security footage.
The few guards who had seen us had also been eliminated.
Natasha’s targets would be unaware they were being hunted until she slit their throats.
Ella had already paid her for the hit on Ronan.
Natasha took one look at the nine-figure payout, covered her eyes, and told me to invest it.
Part of it went to her island, and the rest to a talented broker, who would make sure she had a generous income for the rest of her life.
I considered liquidating some assets to pay for the island myself, but I split the purchase price with her, ensuring she would have a stake in our future.
Naturally, her name was on the deeds for both the Landbo house and her island.
Later, she could choose a house in Italy near the Swiss border if she still wanted one.
I followed her into the kitchen. She dropped the shopping bags on the table, and after giving both dogs and Dante’s cat some attention, returned to the foyer to take off her boots, coat and hat. When we finished putting our groceries away, I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her to face me.
“You may not speak, slave,” I said, letting my voice deepen into a low purr. “Go into the bedroom, undress, and kneel in the center of the room.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it and cocked her head. Instead of protesting, she tugged my shirt from the waistband of my trousers and lifted it to reveal the angry red scar on my abdomen.
“Time out for technical difficulties, Master,” she murmured.
“I’m fine.” After moving her hands to her sides, I turned her toward the bedroom and swatted her succulent backside. “But no acrobatics.”
“Yes, Master.” She took a step, then turned a cartwheel, her sock-covered feet barely missing the edge of the quartz countertop. “No acrobatics.”
Must not laugh…
“Bratting will get you a thorough spanking, little slave.”
She giggled and evaded me, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Can’t catch me! I’m the gingerbread man!”
Seeing her blossom into the playful, happy person before me sent a pang into my chest, and I resolved to make her smile every day for the rest of our lives.
I lunged and caught her before she could do another cartwheel. Although I considered throwing her over my shoulder, I thought better of it. Despite her apparent wellness, I wouldn’t put undue pressure on her bullet wound.
Or worse, drop her. I wasn’t in top condition and wouldn’t be for at least another few weeks. Thankfully, we were both done with pain medication.
“First, you’re going to get a spanking for refusing to let me carry anything,” I warned as I circled her throat with gentle fingers. “Then you’ll get another for bratting.”
“But if I let you carry all the heavy stuff, you might not have the strength left to make love to me all night, Master.”
I refused to admit that she was probably right. We’d had a long day, and I was tired—but not too tired to make love to my beautiful wife.
Tightening my fingers around her throat, I said, “The time for talking is over, slave. You will walk into the bedroom, undress, and kneel in the center of the room facing the picture window.”
Her breath hitched in her throat, and she relaxed into gorgeous obedience, lifting her chin, but keeping her eyes down.
Crossing her arms behind her back, she walked ahead of me until she stood in the middle of our bedroom.
Slowly, giving me a show, she laid her phone, three knives, and a pistol on the dresser, then undressed and carefully folded each piece of clothing before lowering herself to her knees.
Finally, she spread her thighs, revealing her pussy glistening with moisture.
I laughed inwardly. She was unarmed when she was naked, but she would never be helpless.
“Such a very good girl.” Ignoring the twinge of pain in my ribs, I crouched and dragged a finger through her wetness, then sucked it clean. “And so very sweet.”