Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
I told myself that I was not a man who would fall to his knees, not a man who would admit he’d fallen in love, not a man to beg his wife to stay. And it’s true. I’m not that man, but maybe I can become him—for her. She’s worth that and more.
Isabella is not in the ballroom, or any of the sitting rooms, or the library. She hasn’t sought solace in the kitchen or the garden. Every place she is not seems strangely empty. It turns my stomach to think of her gone.
The last place I look is her bedroom.
The door’s been left open. Not wide open, but open nonetheless. That’s a reason for hope, isn’t it? She hasn’t tried to lock me out. I push the door open in one hand and go in.
Heat is the first thing to caress my face. Heat, because there’s a fire going. And because Isabella is naked.
Bound on the bed. Her arms stretched wide. Her legs stretched wider. She’s bound and helpless, and I can tell from the rise in her chest that she knows I’m here.
My cock is iron inside my pants, but the scene doesn’t make sense. The fire in the hearth. Her naked body on the bed. “Hello, wife.”
Her mouth works. “Hello, sir.”
Hope is a hard drumbeat. “Sir, is it?” I keep my voice mild. Tone level. “What about the annulment?”
“The papers are over there.” She tilts her head in the direction of the fireplace. My portfolio sits empty on one of the chairs. Isabella burned them. They are nothing but smoke and ash. I step to the grate to confirm it and turn off the flames. Then I go to the side of Isabella’s bed, hands in my pockets to disguise their shaking. My wife looks up at me, eyes huge and glistening. “I don’t want an annulment.”
“So you’ve decided to stay.”
I’ve never felt this nervous and hopeful and adrift before. I don’t quite trust the sensation. It seems like the high before a crash. Before the world comes tumbling down around you and you’re left with nothing.
Isabella’s chin quivers. “I want nothing more in the world than to stay. If you’ll let me.”
“If I’ll let you.” The breath goes out of me. “I would have chased you out the door and dragged you back in. You are my wife. You are mine. Forget what I said and stay.”
“Yes.” The word from her lips feel more final than our wedding vows. A promise. “I will.”
I don’t bother with my clothes. I climb up onto the bed between my wife’s spread legs and dip my head to the sweetness there. The moan that escapes her is filled with relief and desire and an apology, too. She has made her body one gorgeous apology. In return, I’ll give her this.
I lick her from top to bottom while she lifts her hips to meet my face. I tease her folds and suck at her clit and use my teeth on the sensitive places that make her pant and writhe against her bonds. I fuck her hole with the tip of my tongue. I take her until she comes, and then I make her come again.
Isabella gasps when I leave the bed. “Don’t go,” she cries.
I laugh, the sound hoarse and unsteady. “I would never.”
What I will do is strip off my clothes and release her from her prison. Back on the bed I take her in my hands and turn her so that she’s on top, her thighs straining to keep herself positioned over me. “Can I?” she asks. “Please?”
“Take what you want.”
Isabella lowers herself down onto my cock inch by inch. There’s a regal quality to the way she moves as she handles the stretch and the invasion. She’s so tight. So wet. Her muscles pulse, and it pulls a groan out of me that lights up her face. I keep my hands on her hips and guide her down until she’s fully seated. Isabella rocks her hips back and forth, moaning so sweetly I don’t know how I ever fought with her. I’ll let her ride me. I’ll let her be a queen in this house.
Her hands dig into my chest. My wife uses my cock with valiant passion, her pussy fluttering and gripping. But then her eyes open and fix on mine. Isabella leans down and kisses me, the tip of her tongue tentative on my lip. “I want—”
“Anything.”
She shifts herself against me and pulls, turning us so that I’m braced over her. My wife throws her head back on the pillow and sighs. “Like this. I like it this way.”
“On your back?”
“With you in charge.” Her eyes meet mine with lust and seriousness. “I want you to be the one in charge. I want you to have control.” She strokes my cheek with her fingertips. It’s not a particularly erotic touch, but it makes my cock jump regardless. “You were right about my father.”