He plunges his fingers in my core and pumps hard. “You can. Come.” He’s right. The extra pressure sends me soaring, and I sail into bliss with abandon. Moaning, grinding against his face, I’m milking every second of this ecstasy.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says, gently placing my knees back down on the bed. “I love that you granted me that.”
I murmur some gibberish about me being the lucky one, or some such fool thing, but I’m not kidding. I’m drunk on pleasure, the feel of his tongue still lingering between my legs, even while my cheeks flush with heat at the thought of how recklessly I came on his mouth.
“Is this part of your plan of seduction?” I ask, as he removes the tie from my wrists and ties it around his neck, slightly crumpled, but doable.
He gives me a wicked grin that makes my rapidly beating pulse spike. He needs to be careful how he wields that grin. It’s dangerous.
“I have no plan of seduction, Caroline. You already belong to me.”
I give him a curious look, but he only winks at the doorway. “I need to go see my men. You have plenty to occupy your time until I return. I’ll be back within an hour.” He turns and leaves the room, and I swear he takes a piece of my heart with him. I’m losing myself to him, this powerful man who commands not only an army… but me.Chapter 13TomasThe difference between what I want to do in my head and what I actually do are two very different things. And I need to face that.
I want my wife to behave herself, to fear me. Then before I know what I’m doing, I’m laying her down and eating her out until she comes on my face with reckless abandon, as if carnal indulgence trumps logic and reason. And hell, maybe it does.
I adjust my dick, hard as a fucking rock, while I fix my clothing. Caroline doesn’t think she’s beautiful, and to most others, she is no model. She isn’t what most people would consider beautiful.
But I’m not most people.
The curves she curses make me want to bury myself in her to the hilt, claiming her as all mine. She’s like a pin-up model of old, with their creamy, voluptuous thighs, full, taut breasts, soft curves and feminine allure I’d follow like the call of the sirens. When I unleash myself on her, she can withstand me. She doesn’t crumple, even when I punish her, dominate her, fuck her.
And I wonder, knowing now what I do, if being dominated helps her let go of negative associations she had with sex. Maybe it empowers her, yielding the way she does.
The woman was made for me.
A man like me likes a sturdy woman with curves and stamina. She’s fucking gorgeous.
The way her eyes light up when I bring her to orgasm, the pink coloring of her cheeks. Parted lips and moans of pleasure, her sweet hands clasped about me while she anchors herself for safety. Steady breathing soft sighs. Everything about her is passionate and powerful, and I’m fucking honored how she submits to me.
Submission has many facets, though. She doesn’t cave. Not my Caroline. Though she’s learning what I like and adapting, she’s got a will of iron and a mouth to match it. Witty and sharp, she keeps me on my toes.
Jesus.
Jesus.
I’m falling for her.
Never in my life have I fallen for a woman. I’ve dated, I’ve fucked, I’ve flirted and courted, but never, never has a woman wound her way around my heart and mind like Caroline.
It fills me with pride to know that she bears my name, my ring, and some day, I hope she’ll come around to being amenable to bearing my children.
So when I leave her in our suite to be dolled up by Elliot, a stack of books by her bedside table and permission to help the kitchen staff prepare lunch, it pleases me to see how she smiles.
“You remembered,” she says, her beautiful eyes alight with hope and pleasure.
“Remembered what?” I ask her, sliding my suit jacket on. I know exactly what she’s talking about, but I want to hear her say it.
“You remembered that I like to cook.”
“Of course,” I tell her with mock sternness. “You’d do well to cook me a meal, woman. Wait staff is all well and good, but a good wife knows the way to her man’s heart is through his stomach.”
I’m teasing her, but I don’t think she knows it.
“Does she?” she asks me softly, her head tipped to the side. I can practically see the wheels spinning.
“I like hearty meals,” I tell her. “Comfort food. I work hard, and when I eat, I take it seriously. No light fare on my table. Salads are for rabbits.”
She gives me an all-out grin, and I swear to God in that moment I’d give her anything she fucking asked for. “Noted, sir.”