Chapter 34 #2
The hedges came down. In their place, I built three sitting areas across the lawn, each tucked into a different nook.
The first is closest to the house: it is sheltered by an old wisteria I trained over an iron arbor, with a low round table beneath it ringed by deep, cushioned chairs.
The second sits farther out, by the pond Theo loves: a long bench with a fire pit in front of it for cool evenings.
The third is at the very back of the garden, under the oak where Lucas proposed to me: two benches with a small, stone table between them, almost hidden by the climbing roses I have let run wild on purpose.
“Over here,” I tell them, leading us to the wisteria. The blossoms have not come in yet, but the leaves have, soft and pale. “I had this area built first. The boys can play on the lawn, and we can still see them from here.”
“Sienna!” Anne is looking at the cushions, at the small woven blanket folded over the arm of the nearest chair, at the tea setting already laid out on the table by someone who must have known I would bring my visitors out here. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s home,” Violet says, smiling at me.
I press my lips together and seat her in the deepest chair, the one with the firmest support for her back. Anne settles beside her, and I take the seat across from them so I can see both my friends.
The boys are already at the pond. Eli is keeping a cautious hand on the back of Theo’s coat. Theo is pointing at something with all the gravity of a young scholar.
“Eli is so good with my son,” I murmur.
Anne’s eyes go soft. “He has been waiting for this for months. He kept asking if Theo would have grown taller.”
“He has, actually.”
“I noticed. He’s going to be like Lucas. Same build.”
“He is.”
A comfortable silence settles over us. I trace the rim of my teacup with one fingertip. The wisteria leaves move above us.
“I’m so glad the merger structure has held,” I say eventually.
“Since Darius and Lucas worked through the final integration phase in the spring, we haven’t had a single territorial dispute.
” My voice softens. “And Lucas is so good to me. I never thought I would find someone who would dote on me this much.”
Violet’s hand reaches forward and finds mine across the table. “Your happiness shows.”
Out near the pond, Theo lets out a delighted shriek. Eli’s calm voice answers him.
Anne pulls her son into her line of sight with a quick, instinctive look, satisfies herself, and turns back to me.
“I want to have more children,” I say quietly. “I haven’t discussed it with Lucas. Theo’s birth was so hard that he has never brought up the matter again. He avoids it.”
Anne’s breath catches. Her hand comes back to mine, fingers folding tight around it. “Oh, Sienna.”
“I’m getting another baby. I’ll tie him down if I have to.”
Violet chortles. “Can you imagine how that conversation would go?”
Anne is squinting. “Not well. What are you going to do if he says no?”
I smirk. “I won’t let him pull out.”
“That’s diabolical.” Violet shakes her head at me.
“He wants more kids, Violet.” I get serious now. “He has always wanted more. But he’s scared for me. Meera said she’d be there in case I need her help, and we could have all the best healers standing by, so I don’t know why he’s being like this.”
“Because he loves you,” Anne says quietly. “Talk to him again. Make him listen. He’ll change his mind.”
I’m not so sure he will.
By the time the sky has gone purple, the men have come out of Lucas’s office looking like they have agreed on something they will not tell us about until tomorrow.
Dinner has happened, and the children have been bathed and tucked into the guest rooms with a small army of nightlights. Even the adults have said goodnight.
I climb the staircase slowly. The lamps along the corridor have been turned low. Our bedroom door clicks shut behind me.
The fire in here has been lit. One of the staff has turned down the bed and drawn the heavy curtains halfway across the windows. The lamp on my side throws a soft pool of amber across the floor.
I take a shower and change. Back in the bedroom, I head to the full-length mirror.
The robe slides off my shoulders into a puddle of silk on the floor. Underneath it, a black nightie sits cool against my skin, the satin falling to mid-thigh, the lace at the bodice low.
This is my secret weapon.
My hair comes down out of its twist, falling heavily past my shoulders. I drag a brush through it, watching myself in the mirror. I do not hear the door open behind me because, when he wants to, Lucas moves like a cat.
His hand finds my shoulder, and I jump a quarter of an inch.
Then, he is there in the mirror behind me, the silver at his temples catching the lamplight, his sweater gone, just a soft, white shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His mouth comes down to the curve where my neck meets my shoulder.
“Hi, my love.”
“Hi,” I breathe.
His arms close around me from behind, slowly, carefully, his cheek resting against mine for a long moment. He breathes me in. He always does this. Five years of it, and it still makes me quiver.
“You were quiet at dinner,” he murmurs.
“Was I?”
“A little. I wondered if you were tired.”
“Maybe. Mostly full.”
His light chuckle ghosts against my temple. “What’s the occasion for this?” His fingers splay across my stomach, and his eyes meet mine in the mirror.
“I decided that if you won’t give me another child, I’ll seduce you into it.”
His smile fades. “Sienna.”
“I want more children, Lucas. I am done avoiding this conversation. I want this estate filled with the sounds of kids running around, getting into trouble, causing messes. I want a full life with you.”
He rests his head on my shoulder. “I nearly lost you when Theo was born.”
“The midwife told you that sometimes the first baby is the hardest. We’ve overcome so much worse. This is what I want.”
His jaw sets. “There’s no room for negotiation?”
“No.”
He sighs. “Fine.”
I blink. “That was easier than expected. I had a whole argument prepared.”
He laughs. “I want more kids, too, Sienna. I’m just worried about you. May I?” he asks softly.
My breath catches. Five years, and he still asks.
“Yes.”
Lucas exhales slowly against my neck, the sound heavy with restraint and hunger.
For a moment he simply holds me, his broad chest pressed to my back, arms wrapped around my waist as we stand in front of the mirror.
His hands are warm and steady, one resting possessively over my stomach, the other brushing my hair aside.
He presses a gentle, lingering kiss just below my ear, then another lower, lips grazing the sensitive skin where his mating mark sits.
His hand drifts down, gathering the hem of my nightie and slowly sliding it up my thighs. He doesn’t rush. The satin whispers against my skin as he bares me, inch by inch. His palm smooths over my hip, then cups the curve of my ass.
“Keep your eyes on the mirror,” he says quietly, voice low and calm. “I want you to see everything.”
I meet his gaze in the reflection. The contrast is striking—there I am, already flushed and breathing faster, while he stands tall behind me, still fully dressed, control radiating from every line of his body.
He slides one hand between my thighs, fingers stroking gently along my folds.
A soft sound escapes me when he finds me wet.
He teases slowly, circling my clit with light pressure before slipping two fingers inside me.
He curls them deliberately, watching my face in the mirror as my lips part. My breath hitches.
“So responsive,” he murmurs, his other hand coming up to cup my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple. “Even after five years, one touch and you melt for me.”
He begins a slow, steady rhythm with his fingers, pumping deep while his thumb works my clit. My legs start to tremble. Lucas tightens his arm around my waist, holding me firmly against him.
“You’re shaking already,” he notes, his voice dropping even lower. “Look at yourself. You can barely stay upright.”
The pleasure builds gradually, warm and insistent. I grip the edge of the mirror as my hips begin to move on their own. Lucas doesn’t stop; he adds a third finger, stretching me, his pace increasing just enough to make me whimper.
When my eyes start to flutter shut, his hand slides up to my jaw, gently but firmly turning my face back to the mirror.
“Eyes open,” he says, more commanding now. “Watch how you look when I touch you.”
The pressure inside me coils tighter. My breathing grows ragged, cheeks flushed deep pink in the reflection. Lucas leans closer, his lips brushing my ear.
“Come for me, Sienna. Let me see it.”
The orgasm hits me in slow, powerful waves. I cry out softly, my walls pulsing around his fingers as my body trembles in his hold. He keeps moving through the whole thing, drawing out every shudder until my legs feel weak.
Only then does he withdraw his fingers. He turns me to the right and bends me forward over the dressing table next to us; my gaze now fixes on us in the mirror over it. I hear his belt open, followed by the scrape of his zipper.
His cock nudges against my entrance, hot and heavy. With one smooth, deep thrust, he buries himself inside me completely.
A low groan rumbles from his chest. “Goddess, you feel perfect.”
He starts with slow, rolling thrusts, letting me feel every inch. His hand returns to my hair, gripping just tight enough to keep my head up. The pace gradually quickens, becoming firmer, more insistent.
In the mirror, I watch my body jolt with each thrust, my breasts swaying, my face caught in helpless pleasure. Lucas’s eyes are dark and focused, locked on mine through the reflection.
“You see how good you look like this?” he says, voice rougher now. “Completely at my mercy.”