Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Leith
Entering the train station triggers a sharp memory.
* * *
I’m sprinting faster than I ever have—running for my life. I have to board that train. If I miss it, Dad and Maw will catch up with me, and they’ll whip me and cage me.
They heard I was in Kolkata, even kent?1 who I was staying with. They sent three servants to hunt me down. Now my last hope is getting out of this city, because no one I know will hide me.
My parents want to force me to watch them drug and experiment on innocent animals, to “toughen me up.” Then they want to send me to military school.
But I’ve lived for a year on my own. I’ve tasted freedom, and I don’t plan on going back to my cage.
And someday I’ll free all those animals.
The last call for passengers sounds, and the doors close briefly once.
I lengthen my strides, my heart thrashing in my chest and the soles of my ragged shoes beating the pavement.
The doors slide open, stay open a moment, and—in that split second before the last car’s door closes, I hurl myself up and through, crashing onto the stairs.
I don’t have a ticket, but I’ll find a place to hide, at least until it’s too late for them to kick me off.
* * *
As Iona checks her phone, I nod to Draven and McKinley, who stand fifty feet down the platform amidst a knot of other passengers. They tip their heads in acknowledgment and hop on the train as the doors open to the seated coaches.
The sleeper car I’ve reserved for Iona and me opens its door, and three hosts alight onto the platform, collecting our bags and ushering us aboard.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Cargill.” The hostess beams, gesturing to the champagne on ice and two flutes on the table. “Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your trip more pleasant.”
It’s almost midnight by the time the train pulls out of the station. I’ve put on John Mayer’s Stop This Train and poured us glasses of bubbly.
I trap Iona’s knees between my thighs as we sit opposite each other sipping our drinks. “Tired?”
“No. I’m strangely wired.”
A tremor steals through her, and I feel it too. The pulse of electricity that vibrates under my skin when we touch. A subtle shift in the energy field around us when our legs brush. A jolt of heat coursing through my blood when she speaks.
All this is why I need to be careful around her. I can’t afford to get entangled with my wife. She’s here for my revenge and, only secondarily, for pleasure.
At night on a sleeper train it’s easy to imagine there is no world beyond the windows of your car. You’re traveling through time, not space, and the bodies of sleeping passengers are those of the dead. You enter a fleeting state where your reflection in the glass is the only living thing.
Thoughts become tangible, more real than they could ever be at your origin or destination.
I’m tempted to dwell on recollections of Aaron, but with monumental effort I sweep them under the carpet. Now is the time to gather more ammo against my bride.
I settle my gaze on Iona, entrancing in a burnt-sienna peasant blouse that accentuates the earthen tones in her hair and skin. “Tell me more about what brought you to my house two weeks ago.”
Flushing vermilion, she gives a shake of her head. “Och, it was nowt. It’s all been settled.”
My jaw jumps, and I capture her in my unswerving gaze. “Sliging?2 to me will earn you a very serious punishment indeed.”
Swallowing, she does visible battle with herself.
“To jog your memory,” I prompt, “it was an important potential case for me. You were trying to locate someone and bring him to justice. I could help because I have a lot of underworld connections and conduct much in-depth research.” Each quotation intensifies her blush. “Does that ring a bell?”
“Please, Leith.” Her low, soft voice barely sounds above the hum of the train.
I cock my head. “You were about to spill your guts to me that day. What’s changed since then?”
She looks out the window, then faces me, fear darkening her eyes. “You’re my husband. Back then you were just a stranger. You have much more power over me now.”
I suppress a smile at her intuition. “And you trust me less now than you were prepared to then?”
She ventures a small nod. “You put me through hell that night with the Insta post. I don’t know your real motives for marrying me. You speak of”—she hesitates, gulping—“my duties as a wife and obeying you as my . . . lord and master. But I only understand you want to control me.”
My cock twitches in my slacks. “You’re a smart wee thing, Flame. But you left out a few important details. You like it when I torment you. You enjoy being manipulated and controlled. You want to fulfill your duties as my wife.”
Looking as if she’s been sideswiped, she opens her lips to speak, but nothing comes out.
She can’t deny the force of my words.
I take our glasses and place them in their holders.
“Come.” I pat my knee, and she swipes her tongue over her upper lip, hesitating only a moment before rising and sitting in my lap.
“That’s my good girl.” Her nipples bead against her shirt, and goosebumps pepper her arms. As her clean heather scent invades my nostrils, my dick tenses against my fly.
I slide my palm up her inner thigh, parting her legs.
“This is what you were made for, sweetheart.”
I draw aside the top of her shirt, exposing the long muscle of her shoulder. Laying a soft, languorous kiss on her warm skin, I nibble at her tender flesh. Fuck, she tastes sweet, like milk and new-blown blossoms. The wanton moan that pours from her makes my nerve endings sizzle.
I sink my teeth into the curve of her neck, and she cries out, till I lave away the pain and breathe cool air on the bite. “With me, you’ll always have pain with your pleasure, Iona. It heightens the senses and enhances your enjoyment.”
She bows her back, lolling her head over my shoulder.
“What a responsive wee wife.” As my fingers approach her heat, I play with a nipple, twisting and tugging it till she whimpers.
Strumming the nip with my thumb, I circle my fingers over the drenched gusset of her panties.
“So wet for me.” I switch my ministrations to the other nipple, tweaking and pinching it to a chorus of mews.
“That’s it, mewl for me, Flame. Take it all like the dutiful plaything you are.
You’re made to serve me.” I shunt aside her panties, a flood of arousal instantly coating my fingers.
She swivels and grinds into me as her backside nestles over my stoner.
“You’ll live and breathe nowt but me.” I glide my fingers over her pulsating, dripping pussy, plunging two into her soft gulf.
A gasp escapes her, and she wriggles to find more contact, more friction.
“Such a greedy thing.” Brushing my thumb over her clit, I find the button inside that detonates her.
I massage it, then retreat. Stroke, press, and circle.
Thrust, bat, and stretch her inner walls.
Her breaths grow shallow, and she grabs hold of my forearm.
Working her up to a pitch, I suck hard on her neck, leaving a love bite for all the world to see.
“That’s it. This is what you’ve dreamt of me doing for so long.” My words are swallowed by her cries. “Come for me, pet.”
Her cunt clamps on my fingers like a steel trap, she’s so fucking tight. Spillage gushes over my hand. “Leith! Oh God, Leith!”
“Just my name, wife—that’s all you’ll ever scream. God has nowt to do with it.” I piston my digits in and out, lengthening her climax while adding a third finger.
Slowly her scream dies down, her eyes blow wide, and pink splashes her cheeks.
I hold my fingers to her lips. “Taste your cum.”
Sniffing her juices, she darts her tongue out and licks them off my hand, making my cock throb.
Reaching a hand into her shirt, I hold the weight of a round, luscious breast, giving it a squeeze. “You’re going to do that six or seven times a day until you die, wee plaything. Sometimes more.”
Quivering from her legs to her neck, she blinks up at me. “But you . . .”
The smile slinking up my lips is that of a jungle cat as I cup her rapidly pulsing throat. “I give the orders, you obey. Understood?”
Her plump lips part, and a puff of disbelief escapes them. “Aye.”
“Good.” I give her throat a gentle squeeze. “Don’t change or clean up. I have to make a few business calls. I’ll be in the Club Car.”
“Okay.” She climbs off my lap, leaving me with a boner the size of Finland.
The O of her lips and the glazed look in her eyes when she came are burned in my brain.
Pushing to my feet, I adjust my trousers and watch her bend to open her bag. The curve of her backside is mouthwatering.
I exit the car, smiling. This appetizer was all about her. Sometimes gentleness is the best way to catch shy prey.
Now for the main course.
* * *
Iona
As soon as he’s gone, I flop onto a seat, gusting out a full breath.
My core tingles from where he entered me, and wetness coats my folds.
Everywhere is swollen, sore, and vibrating with need.
It’s as if he’s awoken a sleeping beast within me.
Now it’s hungry for more—more pleasure, more attention from Leith, more of that heavenly, earth-shattering feeling that drowns the senses in one carnal purpose.
I know this was just the tip of the iceberg and there’s much more to sex.
But if this even hints at what it’s about, I’ve been depriving myself of satisfaction at its most pure and essential.
Rubbing my clit with my own fingers and letting Leith penetrate me with his are on two different planets.
Then again, he didn’t ask. He took. Strangely I loved that part of the experience—having him wrest control from me.
It was as if he was the pilot and in taking the helm he assumed I entrusted my life with him.
I certainly trust him with my body, which is much more than I could say of any man since That Night.