I drew back as the last pulses of her orgasm ebbed from her hips and she sagged limply on her elbows. She was wet and tender and she flinched as I cleaned her with my tongue, chasing the last bits of her arousal down her thigh. My God, she was soaked for me.
“You’re so fucking sensitive and wet for me, baby,” I said.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “That was amazing.”
I ran my nose over the inside of her leg. “Thank me for it, baby.”
She squirmed and I nipped at her, making her jump.
“Thank you.”
There was a hint of attitude to her words, but I didn’t care. Hearing her soft voice thank me for making her come turned me on more than I was willing to admit. I’d never liked it before, but something about the way she said it drove me insane. I wanted to bury myself in her, wrap my hand around her throat, and make her beg for me while I came in her sweet pussy.
Soon. Not yet, but soon.
I pulled her from the railing and carried her naked back into the kitchen. She wobbled as I put her down, her hands going to my shoulders as I dropped to a crouch. I needed one more taste before I left her for two weeks.
She clung to the counter as I ate her soft pussy, her thighs pressing against the sides of my head. This time, I kept her on the edge for a long time before letting her come. When she finally finished, the shudder that moved through her was explosive and deeply satisfying.
Then I let her put on my shirt and we ate reheated gumbo on the couch in silence. It felt so ordinary and domestic it was almost frightening. I wasn’t the sort of man who lived in comfortable domesticity. I had violent blood in my veins and a legacy, while unwanted, that bespoke only more heartache and cruelty. Men like me, men of war and violence, shouldn’t be allowed to love women like Sienna.
She was too beautiful, too good.
But goddamn it, I was far too selfish to let her go because the thought of her with anyone else killed me. If I hadn’t realized that before today, I knew it now. To my core.
She was mine.
Chapter Seven
Sienna
The day Viktor left for Cairo, I stayed in bed until his car disappeared down the drive. For some reason, there was a dull emptiness in my chest that I convinced myself was boredom. Feeling lethargic, I curled up beneath the covers and dozed until almost noon, as warm and relaxed as a cat in the sunlight.
I rose, blinking in the sunlight, and padded into the bathroom. I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when I noticed a slim, black box on the sink. Setting aside my toothbrush, I picked up the package and pulled the red ribbon surrounding it. The top was taped and it took me a minute to work it apart to reveal a satin cushion with a vibrator nestled on top.
Arousal curled between my thighs, tightening like a coil deep within my hips. Heat traveling up my throat as I opened the note.
I know you’ll think of me.
I couldn’t keep from smiling, all the melancholy of the morning washed away. Goddamn him, he was so self assured, so sexy in his quiet confidence. I’d thought that men didn’t like it when their women used sex toys—my ex had never let me use mine in front of him. But apparently Viktor wasn’t intimidated.
Going back into the bedroom, I slipped beneath the covers. The vibrator was slim and cool in my fingers as I slid it between my thighs and pressed it to my clit. It hummed to life and a shot of pleasure moved through my body, centering in my core.
My mind moved to him, lingering on the feeling of his mouth on me. The way it had been last night. A shiver moved through me as I remembered how his hot, wet tongue curled against my clit, sucking it into his mouth. Lapping at me, flicking my clit until burning climax washed over me like a wave.
What sent me over the edge was the memory of look of pure satisfaction as he got to his feet as I lay there panting from my orgasm. The glitter of confidence in his pale eyes, that wolfish smile that was just a little too wide and a little too consuming. I came against the vibrator with a quiet cry and then I lay on my back, panting and thinking about the way he dragged his hard, lean fingers over my body.
For the rest of that week, I woke up the same way. With his name on my tongue and the vibrator pressed between my legs. It was pathetic, I chided myself, to be thinking about him this much. But, despite how conflicted my feelings were toward my husband, imagining him doing dirty things to me was the quickest, most satisfying way to get off.
The next week went by slowly. It got a little colder and then it warmed up again and buds began appearing on the bushes. I managed to convince one of the guards to walk with me to Magnolia’s house. When I arrived, she was industriously cleaning her sizable house from top to bottom in anticipation of the weather turning warm again.
I was elated at the prospect of something to do other than lay around and mull over Viktor. We spent the entire day sweeping, scrubbing, and beating carpets on her back porch. Then I perched on a stool and watched Magnolia make pasta and pour two glasses of wine. There was a faint chill in the air so we wrapped ourselves in blankets out on the three-season porch and watched the sun go down as we ate.
It was peaceful, almost heartrendingly so. There was something about this place that reminded me so much of the house where I grew up that it was hard to keep the tears from my eyes. Everything smelled the same, like fresh grass, cool woods, and the scent of the sun going down over the water. I’d spent the last ten years after the accident feeling lost, feeling broken, but coming to the marsh had changed all that. This was a place where I could see myself growing old.
After a while, Magnolia turned with a glint in her eye. “So, you miss Viktor?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I certainly don’t miss how much he teases me.”