The cuffs come next and my wrists swing free. I reach for him, but he pushes my hands away, bending to lift me in his arms, so close to his chest I’m drowning in his scent. He lays me on the bed, spreads my legs, then drops to the floor. I’m still plugged, now aching with need and throbbing with the pain of the brief, brutal session, when he buries his face between my legs.
One, two, three strokes of his tongue, and I spasm with pleasure. He probes my channel with the very tip, while working my clit with his thumb, and at the third stroke, I fly into ecstasy. I come so hard against his face I whimper and shake, my body tense with contracting muscles chasing utter ecstasy. And just when I’m coming down from the first earth-shattering orgasm, so intense I’ve lost my voice with screaming, a second builds on the first. Sweeter. Harder. Impossibly more intense.
“Oh, God, Tomas,” I groan, as a second orgasm wracks my body. I’m still wrapped in ecstasy when he pulls his cock out and lines himself up at my core. I grasp his shoulders, needing to anchor myself, just before he impales me with his full, hard cock.
I swear and writhe and hold onto him as he slams into me before pulling his hard cock all the way out. All the way out, then slamming into me again, over and over. “Tomas,” I moan. “I’m sorry.”
He thrusts in me one more time, bringing his mouth to my ear. “My love, I am, too.”
I soar into climax when he does. We’re gripping each other like we’re the only two survivors in a world of destruction, desperate and aching for oneness.
He’s never called me love before. Not once. And he sure as hell has never apologized.
He lowers his body, his forehead touching mine.
“I needed that,” I tell him. “God, Tomas. I may regret saying this later, but I need that intensity sometimes. I don’t even know I do until you deliver, but I can’t enjoy sweet sex like that. Am I crazy?”
His forehead still on mine, he breathes in, like he’s inhaling my very scent and essence.
“No more crazy than I am,” he says. “I was pissed and needed to regain control. So I went to you.”
“I know.”
He lifts his forehead off mine and looks into my eyes. “Do you, love?”
“Yes. I could sense it, that you needed to control me. Are you ready to tell me what happened?”
His eyes cloud over again, and for a brief moment I regret asking him. I like the sincere conversations with him, when we’re just two lovers, and neither of us shields ourselves from the other in an effort to self-protect. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
He pulls out of me and we’re messy and sticky. I’m aching, throbbing from what he just did, but blissfully satisfied.
“Bath,” he whispers. He’s stripped to his boxers when he holds a finger up to me. “Stay here until I call you.”
He walks to the bathroom, then seconds later I hear the sound of a bath being drawn. Right now, I couldn’t disobey him if I wanted to. When he strips me down like that, fucking me and spanking me and dominating every inch of my body, I surrender fully. Eventually we’ll play the game again—him needing to control me and me fighting until he breaks me down in surrender. But for now, I’m his little detka.
“Come, Caroline.”
I walk to him, every step making my body ache. My ass throbs, my breasts tingle. But God, that bath sounds good.
I take his hand and let him help me into the tub. The warm, fragrant water envelopes me, the scent of vanilla calming me. To my surprise, he follows, sitting at one end of the tub and drawing me onto his lap.
He washes my hair and lathers me up but doesn’t say a thing. I don’t push him. He’ll tell me when the time is right.
When my body’s clean and my hair wrung out, he turns me to look at him.
“I’ve had a man on Andros since I married you,” he says. “Every fucking day. We were tailing him, with the intent of acting when the time was right. We were ready to strike. Ready to punish him for what he did to you.” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “But as of this morning, he’s gone.”
Even though I’m fully submerged in warm water, I shiver.
“He’s gone?”
If he’s gone, he could be literally anywhere.
“We’ll find him,” Tomas says.
A loud knock sounds at the door. “I swear to God, if that’s Nicolai again…” but his voice trails off when the knock becomes more insistent.
“I’ll be right there!” he shouts. He helps me out of the tub and towels me off, but I can tell he’s doing this quickly. He wants to know who’s at the door. Still draped in a towel, he grabs a gun from the bedside table and heads to the door. “Do not move, Caroline.”