“I like everything about you.”
The promise in his voice almost convinces me he’s telling the truth. Why do I find it so hard to accept compliments? To believe that someone could actually care for me for who I am? Seamus did a number on me.
My father did too. Even my mother.
I am a product of my environment, and in my environment growing up, I was neglected. For too long, I’ve let that define me. Being with Perry—marrying him—has changed that. I no longer want to be known as the pathetic little rich girl who stays holed up in her bedroom day and night, scared to live her life.
Life is meant to be lived. Perry has shown me that. Even Seamus has too, not that I would admit that particular fact to my husband. Fighting for my life and taking risks is not something I would’ve ever imagined happening to me.
I’ve done both in the short span of a few hours. Now that I’m home and safe, naked in a bathtub with my husband, I feel…
Alive.
Energized.
Perry conditions just the ends, as I requested, before rinsing my hair one more time. I enjoy the warm water spilling over my hair. Down my bare back. His touch is comforting. Arousing. I’m tired, yet I want more. More from Perry.
Everything he’s willing to give me, I’ll take. Greedily.
“Ready to get out?” he says once he’s finished.
Opening my eyes, I turn my head so our gazes can meet, and I take him in. His hair is damp. I study his various tattoos, the one just above his heart. Without warning I turn, the water splashing as I readjust myself so I’m in front of him, bending my knees and straddling his lap. His expression is surprised, but I can tell he likes me like this.
His rising erection is more than a hint that he approves.
I run my hands across his smooth broad shoulders and he tilts his head back, his lids heavy as he watches me. “What are you doing?”
“Thanking you.” Leaning down, I kiss him, my tongue finding his. After one stroke, I pull away, smiling down at him. “For taking care of me.”
Perry slowly shakes his head. “What else am I supposed to do? You’re my wife. I take care of what’s mine. I told you this.”
“I like knowing I’m yours,” I whisper, tilting my hips forward, letting my pussy brush against his lower stomach. His eyes widen the slightest bit when I make contact. “Even though it should make me mad.”
He reaches around me, his fingers tangling in my wet hair, tugging gently on the ends. “What should make you mad?”
“How possessive you are. Goes against every feminist thought I’ve ever had.” I kiss him again, licking deep and he responds in kind, his tongue tangling with mine, a low murmur of approval sounding in his throat. I grind against him, wanting him to know what I really want and he tightens his hold on my hair, his other hand wandering. Searching. Making me shiver everywhere he touches.
“You can be a feminist and still like me claiming you.” He tugs hard on my hair, making me gasp and when he puts his mouth on my throat, his teeth nipping, I hiss out a breath. “You own me just as much as I own you, wife.”
A thrill zips through my blood at his words, making my core pulse and I wrap my arms around his shoulders, clutching him to me as I devour his mouth.
The kiss turns carnal in an instant, the water sloshing around us. Cocooning us. We kiss and kiss, my jaw aching, my entire body on fire for him and when I reach between us and grab hold of his cock, he groans.
“You’ve been through a lot,” he says in protest as I guide him home. “You sure you want to—”
I cut him off with my lips, sinking onto his erect cock at the same time, sliding down his shaft easily since I’m so wet. Until he’s fully inside of me, thick and pulsing, filling me completely.
The utter rightness I’m experiencing at having him buried deep is overwhelming and all I can do is clutch him for a moment. My face in his neck, breathing in his familiar, delectable scent. I run my fingers across his back, readjusting my lower body, sending him somehow even further and now we’re both moaning.
“Fuck, Charlotte,” he chokes out when I begin to move. “You feel so damn good.”
I don’t respond. I’m too caught up in the slow drag of his cock within me as I ride him. How the head nudges a spot deep within me that has me seeing stars. It’s too much. With Perry, it’s always too much, and I get swept away. Every time I come down, my clit brushes against the base of his cock and oh God, that feels good too. Amazing. The water is splashing with my every bounce, falling over the edge of the tub and I don’t even care.
A growl leaves him and he grabs hold of my waist, pinning me in place as he moves his hips, pushing inside of me again and again until I cry out, my thighs tightening as the orgasm washes over me out of nowhere. I close my eyes and hold him close, whimpering with his every thrust, until he’s coming too.
Without a condom.
God, we’re so stupid. But I sort of don’t care. Would it be such a hardship, having Perry’s baby?