30. Henry

30

Henry

I had to get Freya home. Now. The ache to claim her as my wife gnawed at me, a constant, consuming hunger. Every moment spent away from her felt like a wasted breath.

Nothing else mattered. Not the meeting I was supposed to have attended where the board members droned on about whether I was entitled to my inheritance. Not the game that my team had won earlier that night without me. Only Freya mattered.

The engine of my car hummed beneath us, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across her face. She looked at me, her eyes holding questions I wasn't ready to answer yet. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, pushing the car a little faster.

Except, when I pulled into the driveway, a familiar car caught my eye. Minka's sleek, black Mercedes. My chest tightened, my pulse quickening for an entirely different reason.

"Everything okay?" Freya's voice was soft, concerned.

I didn't respond. Instead, I guided the car into the garage, the overhead light flickering on as the door rumbled shut behind us. I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, the tension between us thickening.

We stepped into the house, the air heavy with unspoken words. Minka stood in the living room, her presence a dark cloud over the evening I had envisioned. Her arms were crossed, her stance defiant, as if she had been waiting for us.

"What are you doing here, Minka?" I finally asked, my voice cold, eyes narrowing at the sight of her.

Freya moved closer to me, her hand finding mine, grounding me in a way I desperately needed. The weight of her touch, the warmth of her skin—it reminded me why I brought her here in the first place. To make her mine, fully and irrevocably.

"You owe me." Minka's eyes flicked to Freya, then back to me. "I had to miss my boyfriend's championship game.”

I arched a brow, letting my skepticism show. "Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?"

"With the help of our lawyer, I went to that meeting," she continued, ignoring my jab. "I explained everything—why you weren't present, why you were violent towards both Jensen and Dan, and why you still deserve to maintain control of not only your inheritance but Papa's legacy."

I squeezed Freya's hand, drawing strength from her presence. "And?" I pressed, needing to hear the outcome.

"After I pointed out everything Richard had done to try and thwart Papa's trust, they finally agreed," Minka said, a small, triumphant smile spreading across her face. "Richard was awarded a small sum, but that's it. He was released from his duties. If he tries anything, we can file a restraining order on him and proceed to sue him if necessary. And you, you remain inheritor of the estate while I inherit the Serpents. It's done, Henry. It's finally over."

Relief washed over me, a weight I hadn't realized I was carrying lifting off my shoulders. I stepped forward and pulled Minka into a tight hug, gratitude overwhelming any lingering resentment. "Thank you," I whispered, the words barely audible.

Minka's arms wrapped around me, her embrace strong and reassuring. For a moment, the three of us stood there, a united front against the challenges that had tried to tear us apart.

When Minka and I pulled apart, she turned her gaze to Freya, her expression softening. "I suppose a welcome to the family is in order," she said, her tone warmer than I'd heard in years.

Freya smiled, her gratitude genuine. "Thanks?—"

Before she could finish, Minka wrapped her in a tight hug. Freya stiffened at first but quickly melted into the embrace, her eyes wide with surprise.

"You'll have to forgive my brother's grumpiness," Minka said, pulling back but keeping her hands on Freya's shoulders. "He's always been this way. But he does love you. He wouldn't have married you if he hadn't."

Freya glanced at me, her eyes searching mine. I held her gaze, feeling the heat between us intensify. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, the color spreading down her neck, making my pulse quicken.

"Right," Minka said, breaking the spell. "I'm going to go because, well, I don't want to watch that unfold. So… yeah. Take care." She laughed, releasing Freya. "Good luck."

Minka turned, her steps quick as she made her way to the front door. I didn't even say goodbye. My eyes stayed locked on Freya, drawn to the way the flush on her cheeks deepened. When the door closed behind Minka, I lunged for Freya, unable to hold back any longer.

Without a word, I scooped Freya into my arms. She gasped, her hands gripping my shoulders, but there was no resistance, only anticipation. I carried her to the dining table, the solid oak surface where we had shared meals and a poker game now a stage for something entirely different.

Setting her down on the edge, I watched as she spread her legs, making room for me. Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, her eyes locked onto mine. The invitation was clear, and I didn't hesitate.

My lips crashed into hers, a desperate, hungry kiss that spoke of all the words I couldn't say. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the connection. I felt the heat of her body against mine, the electric charge that always ignited when we touched.

"The bed?" she asked, her voice breathless, eyes wide with need.

"Here," I growled against her lips. "Everywhere. I want you on every surface of this house."

I didn't give her a chance to respond. My hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve, every shiver. The table creaked under our combined weight, but I didn't care. This was where we needed to be, where I needed her.

Her fingers clawed at my shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin. I obliged, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside. The cool air hit my chest, but the heat between us was all that mattered. I could feel her heartbeat against mine, a wild, frantic rhythm that matched my own.

I moved my lips from her mouth to her neck, tasting the salt of her skin. She arched against me; her nails digging into my shoulders. The sound of her moans, the way her body responded to every touch—it drove me wild.

There was no more holding back, no more restraint. We were lost in each other, the world outside fading into oblivion. All that existed was this moment, this hunger, this undeniable need.

"I'm going to fuck you in your wedding dress, wife," I growled, my voice rough.

I lifted the skirt of her dress, the delicate fabric bunching around her waist. The sight of her blue panties made my breath hitch.

"Fuck," I muttered, my gaze locked onto the thin fabric that barely concealed her.

With a swift motion, I tore them off, the sound of ripping lace echoing in the room. My fingers brushed against her folds, feeling the slick heat of her arousal.

"You're so wet," I said, marveling at the wetness coating my fingers. "Dripping."

Her eyes met mine, wide and dark with desire.

"You're offering me a meal," I murmured. "How can I refuse?"

I got to my knees, the hard floor pressing against me as I leaned in. My mouth found her mound, the taste of her overwhelming my senses. She gasped, her hands gripping the edge of the table, her body arching towards me.

The moment I tasted her, a primal satisfaction surged through me. Her flavor, a mix of sweetness and raw desire, filled my senses. Freya’s fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white with the intensity of her hold.

She moaned, a soft, breathy sound that drove me wild. Her hips bucked, pressing herself closer to my mouth. I responded by delving deeper, my tongue tracing patterns over her slick folds, seeking out the sensitive spots that made her gasp.

"Henry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Oh, God."

I couldn’t get enough. Every moan, every gasp, every tremor of her body against my tongue spurred me on. I teased her clit with the flat of my tongue, then circled it, drawing out more of those delicious sounds from her.

Freya's taste, the way she responded to every touch, had me rock-hard, straining against my pants. But this wasn’t about me. This was about her, about making her come undone beneath my mouth.

Her breath hitched, her moans turning into a continuous stream of soft, pleading sounds. I increased the pressure, sucking gently on her clit, feeling the tension coil tighter and tighter within her. She was close, so close, and I wasn’t going to stop until she shattered.

"Please," she gasped, her voice breaking. "Please, Henry."

I slipped a finger inside her, feeling her walls clench around me. She was so tight, so wet, and the sensation drove me to the edge of my own control. I added another finger, pumping them in rhythm with my tongue, driving her higher and higher.

Freya's moans grew louder, her body trembling against me. I could feel the tension building, the way her muscles tightened, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

And then she broke.

Her climax hit her like a bullet, her body arching off the table, her moans turning into a cry of pure pleasure. I felt her walls contract around my fingers, the slick heat of her release flooding over me. I didn’t stop, didn’t let up, riding out her orgasm with her until she collapsed back onto the table, spent and trembling.

I pulled back, my lips and chin slick with her arousal. I looked up at her, her eyes half-closed, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. The sight of her, completely undone, was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I straightened up and leaned over her, my lips capturing hers in a searing kiss. She tasted herself on my mouth, surprise and desire flickering in her eyes. Her breath mingled with mine, deepening the connection, intensifying the need between us.

Without warning, I grabbed her waist and flipped her over, pulling the skirt of her wedding dress up again. She gasped, her hands bracing against the table, her body arching in anticipation. The sight of her, spread out and waiting, sent a surge of primal hunger through me.

I freed my cock, the hard length of it throbbing with need. I didn't hesitate. I thrust inside her, a groan escaping my lips as I felt her heat envelop me. The sensation was indescribable, a tight, wet heat that gripped me, pulled me deeper. Every inch of her, every tremor of her body around me, heightened the pleasure, drove me to the edge.

I moved in and out of her, the rhythm building, each thrust a desperate claim on her body. It was so damn hard to keep control, to not lose myself entirely in the sensation, the overwhelming need to take her, to make her mine.

"Let go," she breathed out, her voice a soft plea. "Please, baby, I need it. Harder. Harder!"

Her words, her desperation, shattered the last of my restraint. With Freya, I didn't always have to be in control. She wanted all of me, the raw, untamed part that I usually kept hidden. And I was more than willing to give it to her.

I gripped her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh, and thrust harder, deeper. The table creaked beneath us; her moans growing louder, matching the rhythm of our bodies. The sensation of her walls clenching around me, the slick heat driving me wild, pushed me closer to the edge.

"Freya," I groaned, my voice rough, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

Her response was a breathless moan, her body tightening around me, urging me on. I gave in, let go, losing myself entirely in her, in the wild, unrestrained need that consumed us both.

I grabbed Freya's leg and lifted it onto the table; the shift allowing me to sink even deeper inside her. The sensation was incredible—hot, tight, and utterly consuming. Each thrust felt like an electric shock, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. Her cries, her desperate pleas, only fueled my desire.

"Henry, please," she begged, her voice raw with need. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

Her words were my undoing. I leaned over her, my chest pressing against her back, the warmth of her skin against mine. I could feel her heartbeat, fast and erratic, matching the wild rhythm of our movements. One hand found her breast, squeezing it gently before sliding down her body, finding her clit. I rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles, feeling her shudder beneath me.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice rough with exertion. “Who are you to me?”

She moaned, the sound pure, unfiltered desire. “Your wife,” she breathed out, her words almost a plea. “Mrs. Mathers.”

The sound of that name—my name—coming from her lips sent a wave of pleasure rippling through me. It was primal, a deep-seated satisfaction that resonated in my core. I was claiming her, not just in this moment but forever. Freya was mine, bound to me in every conceivable way. The realization tightened my grip on her hips, driving me to take her harder, deeper.

“Who’s fucking you?” I growled, my thrusts becoming more erratic, driven by the need to hear her say it. “Who’s taking you from behind like a fucking animal?”

She cried out; the sound echoing through the room, filling my ears, my mind. “My husband,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Oh, Henry, you’re my husband!”

Her words pushed me over the edge. The pleasure that surged through me was almost unbearable, a white-hot wave that left me breathless. The sensation of her body clenching around me, her cries of pleasure filling the air—it was everything. Each thrust, each gasp, each desperate plea from her lips intensified the ecstasy coursing through me.

My vision blurred, my focus narrowing to the point of our connection, the place where our bodies met. I was lost in her, in the way she responded to me, the way she gave herself over completely. The pleasure was overwhelming, an all-consuming force that left me teetering on the brink.

“Freya,” I groaned, her name a rough, desperate sound.

She tightened around me, her body shuddering with the force of her own climax. The sensation, the sight of her coming undone beneath me, sent me spiraling into my own release.

But I didn't stop.

I was fucking greedy.

I wanted more.

Freya's moans grew louder, her body trembling with each stroke. She was close, so close so soon, and I could feel the tension building within her, the way her muscles tightened around me. The sensation was almost too much to bear, but I held on, driving deeper, harder, my fingers working her clit in time with my thrusts.

And then she shattered. Her climax hit her with the force of a storm, her body arching against me, her walls contracting around my cock. The feeling was indescribable, a tight, pulsing heat that gripped me, pulled me deeper. Her moans turned into a cry of pure pleasure, the sound echoing in the room.

The sensation of her release, the way her body milked me, drove me to the edge. I thrust harder, my movements frantic, desperate, chasing my own release. The pleasure built, a crescendo of sensation that consumed me, until I finally let go. My orgasm hit me like a lightning bolt, every nerve ending igniting with intense pleasure. I groaned, my body shuddering, the release overwhelming, spilling into her with a final, powerful thrust.

For a moment, we stayed like that, our bodies entwined, hearts pounding in unison. The room was filled with the sound of our ragged breaths, the aftermath of our wild, unrestrained need.

Slowly, I eased out of her, feeling the loss of her warmth, her tightness, but also a deep sense of satisfaction, a connection that went beyond the physical.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, our bodies still trembling from the intensity of our shared release. This was where we belonged, together, in each other's arms, every barrier between us shattered.

"Mine," I whispered in her ear. "My wife. My… everything."

Freya hummed, pressing a kiss on my collarbone.

I scooped her up in my arms, bridal-style, intending to take her to bed. But she was asleep before I even made it to the stairs.

I had given up everything for her… and, in return, I gained more than I could have ever hoped for.