Chapter 19
Desire
My girl tastes magnificent. Aurora’s fingers curl into my hair, shoving my face deeper into her crotch, and I feast on her until she shudders in ecstasy.
The zipper of my trousers is barely containing my straining cock, but I intend to wait for the basement.
She’s dazzling in that white dress she wore to our wedding. White again, in this house again.
The thought I’ll finish what Zack’s father couldn’t and take Aurora on that very iron bed excites me, but it’s just a bonus. My motives are pure: I’m doing this for her. She needs to forget about the Thorntons forever, and the orgasms I give her will burn those memories away.
“Oh god …, Devil …” she exhales.
I rise from my knees, savoring the taste of her cunt, and smile. “I don’t recall ever being called such a contradiction.”
“What do you mean?”
“Both God and Devil at the same time.” I laugh.
“I’ve married a narcissist.” She leans back, looking at me with hazy eyes. Her hair is disheveled, her breath still uneven.
I loom over her, planting my hands on the armrests of the chair. “You’ve married a future king, my queen. And I’ll share my kingdom with you.” I bring my face close to hers. “Taste yourself.”
I crush her lips in a deep, greedy kiss, making her drown in the intimacy. When I draw back, Aurora gasps for air, playing with her clit. She’s clinging to the fading waves of her orgasm—that afterglow is the only thing keeping her from trembling in this house.
“Come on.” I offer my hand. She purses her lips, takes it, and rises.
With uncertain steps, she follows me to the basement door. At the threshold, Aurora swallows hard.
“You go first.” I look into her dilated pupils.
She descends slowly, cautiously, and I follow, breathing on the back of her neck.
“It’s pitch black down here,” she whispers.
I flip the switch. Dim light brings the room, with that very iron bed and its tall post, out of the shadows. I ordered it left. Starched snow-white linens cover the bed, and brand-new chains lie at its foot.
She turns a questioning look to me. I just smirk. “You know my weakness.”
Aurora looks at the bed again, drawing in a breath. I don’t rush, running the back of my hand along her cheek, down to her neck, and feel her pulse racing wildly.
“This house no longer deserves your fear,” I whisper in her ear, barely touching her sensitive skin with my lips. “You’re something far greater than just a victim, Aurora. You’re my wife.”
She gives a short nod and, as if in a trance, steps toward the bed. Her face is pale, shadows of the past reflected in her eyes as she sits on the edge of the mattress. I see her catching those old painful sensations, but she’s not running. She looks at me, frozen.
“Well, let’s begin.” I take the chains from the bed.
While I fasten them to the bedposts, Aurora—my smart girl—puts the leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles herself. The clicks of the carabiners in the silence of the basement sound like a sentence against the past.
“H-how should I lie?”
“On your back,” I command. “First, take off your dress.”
Nodding, she undresses and stretches out on the bed. I attach the chains to the D-rings on her limbs, and the last, shortest one, I snap onto the ring of her choker at the headboard. Now she’s fixed, spread out on the white sheets, defenseless and beautiful.
I shed my clothes, finally freeing my straining cock. My gaze slides over her shivering body.
My toy.
My princess.
My wife.