47. CHAPTER 44 #3
“I love you, Orion,” she breathed, her voice cracking as she moved faster. “Love how you touch me.”
The words punched clean through my chest. I grabbed her hips harder, thrusting up beneath her, matching her rhythm with a ferocity that made her gasp.
“You love how I ruin you,” I ground out. “Say it…look at me when you say it.”
She lowered her gaze down, and locked eyes with me, barely holding herself together. “I love you. I love this. I love us.”
Still fucking stubborn. I love it.
I thrust harder, our rhythm turning frantic, her breasts bouncing in my hands as I trailed my thumbs across her nipples. Her walls clenched hard, and she shattered, crying out my name as she came, pulsing around me in tight, relentless waves.
I followed a heartbeat later, driving deep and spilling into her with a guttural curse, holding her tightly to my chest as we shook apart together.
“Love you,” I choked, my mouth on hers, kissing her through the aftershocks. “So fucking much.”
We collapsed in a slick, panting heap. For a long moment, I just lay there with her sprawled over me, her face tucked into my neck, our hearts beating hard in the same unsteady rhythm.
Eventually, when her breathing evened out again, I rolled, gathering her into my chest as I stood. She made a soft, exhausted noise, her arms looped tightly over my shoulders.
“Come on,” I murmured, kissing her hairline. “I’m not done taking care of you.”
I ran her a bath and took my time with her, slower than I ever had last night, making sure she felt every bit of care I’d denied her before. But slow never worked with us. One touch, one look, and we were right back where we always ended up—losing control, needing more, unable to stop.
We eventually washed properly, trading the cloth between us, but even toweling off turned into another round—her bent over the sink, my hands braced on either side of her as I slid into her from behind, kissing the back of her neck until her knees wobbled.
We came together again, clinging to each other, our reflections blurred in the mirror—two people wrecked and remade in the same morning.
The hours blurred. Morning melted into afternoon. We dozed off tangled together, only to wake to wandering hands and greedy mouths, whispering things we’d never dared say in the months before.
Then the hunger took over again and I found myself licking up a slow path up her thighs and my mouth buried between her legs.
And her returning the favor, wrapping her lips around me with a confidence that stole my breath, while I praised every hungry sound she made, and finally came with her name on my lips.
We couldn’t stop touching eachother.
By the time genuine hunger—not just the kind she inspired—finally drove us from the room, it was already lunch time. She slipped into one of my shirts, the hem brushing her thighs, buttons barely done. I pulled on a pair of joggers and nothing else.
We went downstairs hand in hand, our fingers laced so tightly it felt so good.
In the dining room, we sat too close, our thighs touched.
It made eating a test of discipline I was in no state to pass.
Every brush of her knee against mine sent heat storming through my veins again.
More than once, I had to look away, clenching my jaw as I imagined dragging her back upstairs, or even under the table.
“Later,” she whispered, catching my expression, her eyes dark with the same need as mine. I nodded, hiding my impatience for the meal to end.
Lunch barely registered. We moved food around our plates, stole quick kisses when the staff turned their backs like fucking teenagers in love, and the second our plates were cleared, I’d had enough.
My phone buzzed where I’d left it beside my knife—emails, board messages—the world demanding attention it didn't deserve. Normally, I’d skim them without thinking. Today, I didn’t even pretend.
I picked it up and typed.
Me: Jenn, clear my weekend. I wouldn't be available for calls, or meetings. Family priority. Only disturb me if something’s been razed to the ground. And make sure nothing does.
I watched the three dots appear almost instantly.
Jenn: Understood, Monsieur Kade. I’ll handle everything.
Excellent. That was one problem solved.
I flipped the phone to Do Not Disturb, set it face down on the table, and felt a dark, satisfied calm wash over me. It was Saturday. The company could live without me for forty-eight hours.
My wife, on the other hand, was not going to be deprived for another second.
I pushed back my chair and stood, reaching for her hand. Her brows lifted, amusement already curving her mouth as she let me pull her to her feet.
“Orion—”
“We’re not done,” I said, threading our fingers together, already steering her toward the stairs. “You know this.”
She laughed softly, disbelieving. “You’re insatiable Mr. Kade,” she accused under her breath.
I glanced back at her, let her see every unrepentant thought in my head.
“For you?” I said. “I’ll always be…just for you.”
We barely hit the bedroom before I had her naked again. I stripped in a few impatient motions, flipped her onto her hands and knees, and slid into her with one deep thrust that knocked a strained moan out of both of us.
I fucked her hard like that, one hand clenched in her hair to pull her up so I could kiss the side of her mouth, the other pressed over her lower belly to keep her right where I wanted her.
Still I couldn’t get enough of my wife. I doubt I ever will.
The rest of the day passed in similar patterns—slow and sweet on the rug, frantic against the wall, her riding me until her thighs trembled and I had to hold her upright.
Between rounds, we talked in low, intimate voices about our fears and guilt.
About the future ahead of us that we would barely see clearly.
We dozed off as day time gave way to the evening, then woke only to tangle ourselves back together, as if to check if the connection was still there, and still real. Every time, it was. Stronger than before.
By night time, we were finally sated—our skin damp, our bodies exhausted and heavy. Her head tucked into the curve of my neck, and I was the happiest man alive.
Making up had never looked like this for me—so intense and endless and stitched with so much love it was almost unbearable.
As I lay there with her wrapped around me, her breath feathering my chest, I knew this was the life I wanted, and I’d spend the rest of my days fighting to keep it, for as long as she lets me.