Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Leith
I activate the vibrator at several more awkward junctures of our meal, enjoying the stricken look on her face each time. Through a monumental effort she manages not to come. When we’ve finished dessert, I lead her out onto the terrace, where several couples have stepped out to admire the view.
One glance from me makes the men hurry their women back inside, and Iona snaps her head up.
“Why did they all suddenly leave?” Her mistrustful look says she expects the worst.
“The staff have let them know in advance this is our terrace as soon as we come out.” I draw the doors shut and step into her, backing her up to the railing.
All evening I’ve wanted to have her alone to ravish.
In this dress her shapely legs go on and on, and her lovely square shoulders taper in a V to her slender waist.
She smells of afternoon sex, of heather, lavender, and fresh earth.
“That isn’t very nice,” she says in a husky, low tone.
Planting my hands to either side of her, I cage her in. “You love it.” I dig my stoner into her warm crotch. “You’re soaking wet, and your nipples have been bullet-hard all evening.”
“But we could enjoy the views with them out here?—”
“What I have planned for you is for our eyes only.” As I work her dress up her hips, her breath hitches. “I refuse to share you.”
“Except with all of London?”
“Anyone looking eight floors up may see us. But only I have a view of this.” I run my fingers over her gleaming pussy lips, catch her juices, and taste them on my tongue.
“Leith,” she murmurs in a lust-hazed tone.
I capture her in my unremitting gaze. “Free my cock, Iona.”
She hurriedly unbuttons my jacket, undoes my braces, releases the buttons on my fly, and pulls down my trousers and boxer briefs.
With all London bustling below us, the distant blare of horns and wail of sirens, the glittering lights and illuminated monuments, I angle my tip toward her entrance and slam balls deep into her. She cries out, her mouth opening on an O.
She feels ungodly good. Holding her hips, I pull out partway.
“Remember the rule of the evening, Flame.”
Disappointment leaches across her features. “I’m not to come.”
I close my fingers around her throat, smiling down at her. “Eyes on me.”
Moving again, I feel her almost instantly flutter against me, making my cock swell. Her dilated pupils, flared nostrils, and sped-up pulse say she likes doing dirty things in public, knowing I could choke her to death right here, eight floors above the city, and no one would find out.
I drive into her with increasing intensity, reveling in the drag of my thickness along her inner walls, the sound of my balls slapping against her, and the glazed look in her eyes the closer she gets to coming.
My long, deep strokes speed up, and I come inside her, stiffening and groaning, pressing my hard body against her soft one. I feel that whoosh of euphoria that comes when you ski down the steepest part of a mountain. All my blood is in my cock, all my essence packed inside her.
She claws my back and threads her fingers through my hair, desperate for touch where pleasure is forbidden. Inhaling my scent, she buries her head in my chest.
I catch her chin and tilt her face up. “The rest of tonight, Iona. Then you’ll be rewarded.”
* * *
I take her to a jazz show, and afterward, in the ladies’, I lock the door, bend her face down over the sink, and insert a vibrating dildo with an attached clit stimulator into her pussy. When I’ve finished, I bite her arse. Hard. She shrieks and trembles.
I meet her questioning look in the mirror. “This is for dancing with Darian. By the end of tonight, you’ll know categorically whom you belong to.” Swatting her bare bottom, I step back and watch her pull her dress down. “Come.”
She takes my hand. “Where are we gaun?”
“A famous cocktail bar in SoHo.”
I’m pleased to see she walks gingerly, knowing she’s full of toys that will light up her sensitive parts at the tap of my phone.
The theme of the bar is clowns and fools. Pierrot pictures plaster the wall, Picasso’s harlequins grace the tables, and the drinks come with the motley fool’s caps and bells. The booths are converted circus stalls. Were I to zap Iona here, she’d fit right in with the kooky atmosphere.
So I don’t.
Still, she’s plenty turned on, uncomfortable, and on edge. We sit together on one side of a booth, listening to Jessie J, Ariana Grande, and Nicki Minaj’s Bang Bang over the sound system while I run my fingers up and down her goose-pimpled arm.
“Are you really into detective fiction?” She turns her Bourbon Bauble around on the table—a drink made with American whiskey.
“Aye. What do you read?”
“For work, anything from literary fiction to women’s fiction.”
I breathe in her lavender scent through her hair. “And for pleasure?”
She pauses a long moment. “I love smut. Dark, taboo, and erotic romance—anything with implausible premises, intense angst, and suspense.”
“You like the escape element,” I surmise.
Looking down, I see she’s blushing crimson. “It may sound silly, but for me, these books are healing. Even when the villain-heroes force the women, they’re not really forcing them. The women want it. I guess for a long time I’ve wanted that too.”
She uses reading to work through her traumas.
I cup her nape, forcing her to look up at me. “And now?”
She shakes her head. “Those novels are nothing like reality. I’m full of conflicting feelings when you .
. . push me to do things. My realistic side sees the dangers of being blackmailed, coerced, and threatened.
I see the world from society’s perspective, not just ours.
So when we went out on the terrace earlier, I felt bad for the couples who had to go in because you wield so much power.
Every time you fuck me bare, I think, what if I did get pregnant?
And I often wonder, what if you weren’t as handsome or commanding as you are?
You taking on the role of lord and master wouldn’t be so attractive then. ”
My hand slides down to the appealing groove between her ribs and hip. “You find me handsome and commanding, eh?”
She mock-punches me in the chest. “You don’t need any ego inflation. Forby, that’s what you took away from what I just said?”
“Forcing you brought you out of your cocoon,” I point out.
Her expression is troubled. “Aye, but for how long?”
She’s afraid sex with me may trigger her.
I grip her throat, feeling her pulse points.
“You’re strong, Iona. No matter what I do to you, you roll with it.
I test you at the engagement party, and you meet each test with courage.
You see me with Galiene, and you soldier through.
You run from your killer on the train, and you come out of hiding ready to die for your beliefs.
Now you’re taking your punishments like a seasoned warrior.
I don’t believe there’s anything you can’t conquer. ”
She opens her mouth to reply, when Galiene appears at the end of our table, dressed in a lilac pencil skirt and a white blouse with a tie collar. I’m so surprised to see her, at first all I register is her harried expression.
“Leith, we have a situation. I couldn’t reach you on your phone, so I came here.”
The only way she’d know where we are is if Draven tipped her off. I plan on speaking with him later. In the meantime, I slide out of the booth.
I fix Iona with an imposing look. “Stay here.”
She splits a resigned frown between me and Galiene.
I lead Galiene to the furthest corner of the bar and remain standing as she perches on a barstool. “What’s gaun on?”
“I hated to interrupt your honeymoon.” She straightens the lapel of my tux.
“But Hume Irving has declared his intent to prosecute you. An article in The Times this morning spilt all the gory details of your former guardian’s death.
It also mentioned you’re now handling the Lowing case and cast doubt on your intentions in that case.
” She purses her lips. “The article just skirted the boundary between investigative and invasive. There’s nothing in it that could justify suing for defamation of character, but it insinuates a lot. ”
“And all this warranted your coming to interrupt my first night with my wife?” I’m being unfair to Galiene; she’s only the messenger.
She tilts her head in sympathy, dragging her tongue over her upper teeth. “I came to be of service. If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to put me to work.”
Of course she only wants to help. I rake a hand through my hair. “Find out everything you can about Irving. We’ll commission our own exposé on him, just to even the playing field.” I blow out an exasperated breath. “I suppose the police will come questioning me.”
She squares her shoulders, lifting her chest. “You’re Leith Cargill. You don’t answer to the police.”
I smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I hope at least they have the sense to hold off till after my honeymoon.”
I see her to the door, then return to Iona’s and my booth. Iona refuses to look at me, and tears prick her eyes.
“What’s gaun on?” I feel like I’m asking that a lot tonight as I slide in and wrap an arm around her.
“Nothing. What did she have to say?”
“It’s obviously not nothing, Iona.” I thumb away a tear on her cheek. “Tell me, or I’ll activate all three vibrators at once. And trust me, you don’t want that.”
“Are you fucking her?” she bursts out.
Well, well, my wee Flame is jealous.
“What if I am? How would that make you feel?” I push.
“Like you don’t give a damn about me,” she spits, lifting her chin in defiance. “I’m your wife, Leith. I expect faithfulness, at the very least.”
“So you insist on faithfulness out of self-respect?”
“No! Yes. I mean, not just because of self-respect.” She explodes a tense breath.
I cup a breast, thumbing her erect nipple through her dress. “Why else?”