There was a winking face drawn at the bottom and I smiled, grateful for her words. I hoped she was right, that I did deserve for sex with Lucien to feel good. Setting aside the box, I slipped on the silky lingerie and brushed out my hair. Then, butterflies in my stomach, I stepped out into the bedroom.
My husband sat on the end of the bed looking at his phone. He lifted his head and his eyes fell on me, roving over my body, but his face remained impassive. I knew him well enough at this point not to hope for a big reaction, but I’d hoped for something more. Trying to ignore my disappointment, I padded softly on my bare feet around the side of the bed and sat down by the pillow.
“I’ll shower and be out in a moment,” he said, getting to his feet.
He didn’t look at me when he got up, but I glanced over my shoulder as he pulled the door shut and a rush of triumph rose in my chest. He might be able to conceal his emotions behind those icy eyes, but he couldn’t hide the hardness straining beneath the front of his pants.
I’d half expected him to take his time in the shower, but he washed quickly. I lay on my side, studying the wallpaper, and listened to him move about in the bathroom. When he came out, I sat up and my breath caught a little at the sight of him.
He wore only a pair of black lounge pants. His hair was wet, glossy black, and hanging over his forehead. There were tattoos all over his torso, a few marred by the faint scars across his chest and shoulders. I’d expected him to be more scarred, but most of the ink on his skin was intact in the front at least.
He was well muscled, but it was in an elegant way where everything blended together nicely. There was dark hair across his chest and down his stomach where the V of muscle disappeared beneath his pants.
My core gave a throb as I got to my feet slowly and crossed to him. He held still as I drew near and inspected his tattoos. The large one on his upper stomach roused my curiosity the most. It was a black and white traditional of a dead sparrow hung by its feet with a noose. Above it was a pair of skeleton wings spread over his pectorals and when I leaned closer I could make out tiny roses blossoming over the bones. His arms were a blend of writing and similar images. There was a strong theme of death and flowers.
“Find what you’re looking for?” he asked.
“I was just curious,” I whispered.
I looked up at him, barely reaching his shoulder now that I was barefoot. His eyes fixed on mine and a shiver went through me as they drew me in. Even as my husband, our warm flesh just inches apart, he was still locked behind an impenetrable wall.
“How would you like to do this?” he asked.
I swallowed past the dryness in my throat. “I don’t know. I—I was hoping you could…sort of guide things. I assume you’ve done this before.”
His mouth twitched. “I have. But, admittedly, it has been a long time since I’ve had actual sex.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised. “Well, you’re still more experienced than I am.”
“What would make you feel the most comfortable?”
I thought about it for a moment, grateful for his consideration. I’d half expected him to push me down on the bed and have his way with me, never mind if it hurt. He was an underboss with a reputation for being a lethal killer after all.
My eyes dropped down to the front of his pants. “I—I know this might be a little strange, but I’d like to see it first. I just don’t want to go in blind.”
His mouth twitched again and I was beginning to understand that that was his version of a smile. I kept my eyes lowered, too mortified to meet his gaze, and watched as his lean fingers found the tie of his pants.
“You can look, you can touch,” he said. “I certainly don’t mind.”
His fingers slowly untied the drawstring on his pants and he loosened the waist. My heart thumped in my chest, sending a flush up my throat, and I clenched my hands behind my back. In a fit of courage, I glanced up at him, but he was completely unperturbed. Baring himself to me didn’t seem to phase him one bit.
He pulled down the front of his pants and there he was in front of me, all hard like the rest of his body. The dark hair over his groin was trimmed and there was a tattoo of a skull with flowers blooming from the empty eye sockets just above his penis. He was thick around and longer than I’d expected. There was a vein running up the side of his length to the ridge encircling the tip.
“Oh,” I said quietly.
“Disappointed?” he said.
I shook my head. “It’s larger than I thought it would be. I don’t know…I’m not sure that’s going to fit honestly.”
He laughed and I looked up at him, startled. It was a short, hoarse sound, but it was definitely a laugh. It didn’t reach his eyes though, they remained as impassive as ever.
“I’m sure we can get it to fit,” he said. “I noticed in the bathroom that Iris gave you a bottle of lube, so we can use that to make sure it doesn’t hurt.”
“I think it’s going to hurt,” I said thoughtfully. “Iris said it hurt a lot for her the first time.”
“That’s because Duran is an impatient motherfucker,” he said.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “May I touch it?”