Chapter 10

ChapterTen

Blessing

It’s Christmas morning.

I settle my feet onto the floor and stand, only to stumble sideways. My left knee dips and I wobble, my head momentarily dizzy before the bedroom very slowly comes into focus.

I have been mauled. By my husband.

Manhandled.

All night.

And my throat is sore from screaming at him to keep going.

When we arrived home from the opera, Edison was still suffering from the delusion that people were after me, determined to take me away from him. I couldn’t calm him down. Not with kisses and whispers and cuddles. Not even the security team flanking us on the way home was enough to give him peace of mind. It took hours of lovemaking to free him of the paranoid glint in his eyes—and I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same again.

My husband is obsessed with me in a very unhealthy way.

In between bouts of sweaty, animalistic sex, he rose from bed to check the windows to make sure they were locked, he pushed furniture in front of the door to keep intruders out. All while muttering, “They won’t take her from me.” After which he would come back to bed, roll me onto my back and bring me back to the brink of ecstasy with his tongue between my legs. By the time he mounted me, he was in a fury, growling his possessiveness while the headboard slammed against the wall.

This morning, I can barely walk.

And I feel like a queen.

With a grinning yawn, I stretch my arms up over my head.

As obsessed as my husband is with me…I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

Prettysure.

I’m not sure what puzzle piece is missing, but we’ve been married such a short amount of time. Surely, I will figure it out in due course. Or the worry will correct itself.

I pause in front of the mirrored armoire, noticing the squiggly line between my brows. Ignoring it, I open the door and remove a big, fluffy robe and wrap it around myself, belting the sash. I slide my feet into slippers that somehow already have my initials monogrammed into them and leave the bedroom—

Laughter.

My feet shuffle to a stop.

I know that laughter.

It belongs to the children.

What are they doing here?

A smile blooms on my face and I start to run down the hallway, holding onto the banister as I speed down the staircase and throw open the front door of the house. Christmas explodes across my vision. Snow falls from the sky, all of the trees in courtyard are decorated with lights that shine in the dim morning light. Somewhere in the distance, bells jingle merrily…

And there is Edison.

Having a snowball fight with the children.

His hair is a mess and he hasn’t shaven. He’s wearing his dress pants from last night…with snow boots. And a big overcoat.

One of the younger children hits him with a snowball, square in the forehead.

I hold my breath.

And he laughs.

It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in my life. Deep and booming and a little bit rusty. Now my legs feel like they are going to collapse for an entirely different reason. He shapes up a snowball in his gloves and lobs it carefully at one of the younger girls, obviously being careful not to inflict any damage, but she collapses in the snow giggling, like she’s been hit by a torpedo. I start to worry that she’s going to catch a cold, until I realize all of the orphans are wearing coats. Brand new ones. Gloves and hats, too.

Did Edison do this? Of course, he did. No one else would. My eyes flood with happy tears and I sniffle, that small sound turning every head in my direction.

“Wife. You’re awake,” Edison breathes, his eyes going from carefree to possessive as they land on me. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, husband.”

“Blessing!” the kids shout in unison, many of the smaller ones rushing over to throw their little arms around my waist and squeeze me. I kiss each one of them on the head, hugging them in return, my heart growing fuller and fuller with every child that greets me. And when they run back into the yard to resume their snowball fight, I throw myself into Edison’s arms.

“Thank you. This is the most wonderful Christmas present I could ask for.”

“Oh, angel,” he says, kissing my hairline. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“What do you mean?” Rather than answer right away, he scoops me up and carries me into the house cradled to his chest, closing the door gently behind us.

“When you returned to the orphanage yesterday, I realized how much you would miss the children. That you would always miss them. Therefore, I purchased the house next door to ours. They will live there with the caretaker and you will be able to visit them whenever you choose.” He brings me into the guest bathroom, settles me onto the vanity and closes the door, that dark paranoia returning to his eyes from last night. “Let me clarify, you will be able to visit them with your security team, Blessing. You go nowhere alone.”

I nod, breathless, overcome by what he’s telling me. “You…you bought them the house next door? That must have cost—”

“There is no amount of money I wouldn’t pay to make you smile,” he says, as if that is a fact set in stone since the beginning of time. “They will live comfortably and receive their educations and when they are adults, the money from my inheritance will be waiting for them.” He pauses, frowns. “I didn’t like the idea of them in that broken down building. Repairs can only go so far, Blessing.”

“Oh, Edison,” I sob, pulling his head down so I can plant kisses all over his face, my heart pumping merrily in my chest. “I love you. I love you.”

When he stares back at me, stunned and hopeful, I realize what I’ve said.

And I realize it couldn’t be any truer.

This is it—the final puzzle piece. Edison understanding the love and responsibility I have toward the orphans. Feeling those same emotions himself. Compassion and care. I knew deep down that he was capable of it.

“You love me?” Slowly, his hands cup the sides of my face, his chest lifting and shuddering down. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” I whisper, a hot tear slipping down my cheek. “I mean it. I love you.”

For a moment, he closes his eyes, as if to savor my vow. “Of course. Of course, the thing that makes you fall in love with me is a good deed that benefits someone besides you. There is no one in this world with a bigger heart than my angel.” He slants his mouth over mine, using his tongue on me until I’m moaning. “Your love is the greatest Christmas present I could ever ask for. Dear God, I’m the luckiest man alive.”

He unbelts my robe and pushes it off my shoulders, his eyes blackening at the sight of my nakedness. Enticingly, I arch my back and shake my breasts for him, allowing his hands to press open my knees, so he can look at my rapidly dampening sex. “Is it selfish if I ask for one more present?” I purr.

“Anything,” he groans, stroking the bulge in his pants. “Name it.”

I pout subtly, knowing it makes him crazy. “Teach me how to ride you, Daddy.”

He makes a startled, guttural sound and squeezes his fly. “You’re going to make me come in my fucking pants.”

I slide off the sink and slowly strut to the bathroom door, opening it, stepping out and into the empty house. Edison follows behind me, breathing hard, his hand moving vigorously inside of his unzipped pants. And when I get on my hands and knees and crawl up the stairs, completely naked, he follows behind me on his own hands and knees, panting and cursing.

I’m sure to let him see everything and how it’s turning me on to tempt him. I pause occasionally to bend all the way forward, slide my knees open and wiggle my butt. I giggle over my shoulder and toss my hair playfully and by the time we reach the bedroom, my husband is nothing short of deranged.

He snatches me off the floor and throws me down roughly on the bed, angling his hips to enter me, but I close my thighs swiftly and shake my head. “I want to ride you.”

“I have no patience to teach you this morning, little girl. Look what you’ve done to my cock.”

We are in the center of the bed, Edison kneeling with his pants around his knees, sweat covering his brow. And I quickly reposition myself so that I’m no longer on my back, but kneeling in front of him. “Please? I’m a good student,” I murmur, taking over the privilege of massaging his big, swollen shaft.

“Christ, I can’t say no to you,” he says through his teeth, his gaze riveted by my small hands traveling up and down his length. “Especially…”

“Especially what?”

His expression turns tortured. “I was a monster last night, angel.” A muscle jumps in his cheek, followed by a tick of his right eyes. “I’m still a monster this morning. Letting you play on my lap is the least I can do, before I flip my sweet wife over and hammer her tight cunt again.”

My lungs expel their contents. “You’re my monster.” I push on his chest to indicate I want him to lie on his back and he does, unbuttoning his shirt while he watches me. A king awaiting his pleasure. And oh yes, I’m going to give it to him.

“I’m the only one who’ll ever give you pleasure,” I whisper, straddling him.

I let my growing obsession with him bleed into my eyes and it excites him, his cock jerking and slapping off the inside of my thigh. “That’s right, wife.”

Reaching back, I guide his shaft to my entrance, rubbing him in my wetness, before impaling myself with a loud slap of my ass meeting his thighs. A triumphant sob from my lips.

Edison’s mouth opens but no words come out. His hands fly to the headboard, wrapping around the wrought iron slats, his breath coming in quick hisses. Edison has never put me on top, but the image secretly turns me on, so I’ve been practicing in my head, fantasizing about what I’ll do when he finally allows me to turn the tables.

Now, leaning forward, I brace my hands on his thick shoulders and squeeze the muscles of my sex as tightly as possible, making quick, horny circles with my hips. “I just want to rub my clit on Daddy,” I whine, my lips on top of his. “Is that okay?”

The groan that leaves him makes me shiver hotly. “Baby. You’re going to kill me.”

I pick up the pace until his eyes glaze over. “Don’t die before I give you your Christmas present,” I say teasingly, nipping his jaw and dragging my pointed nipples through his chest hair. “That would be a shame.”

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he chants, jaw slack. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“But you haven’t seen everything I can do yet,” I murmur, licking the side of his neck, all the way up to his ear, before clamping my teeth around his lobe. “You haven’t seen all the ways I can make you come.”

“You could do that by batting your eyelashes at me,” he pants, reaching out to grip my butt in his hands, clamping down and urging me on roughly. “Ohhhh, little girl, you’re making me insane with those hips. Fuck. Fuck!”

I’m making myself insane, too. The promise of pleasure tingles in my clit and nipples, my toes beginning to curl, tension raking up my spine, poising to release. If I don’t give him his Christmas present now, soon I’ll be too limp and sated to do so.

I straighten back into a sitting position on Edison’s lap.

I pull my knees up beneath my chin and I spin around, muscles of my sex contracted, all of my weight concentrated on my husband’s erection. And it creates a wet, twisting effect that sends a wave of unimaginable sensation to my core. This is friction like no other. I spin and spin, using one hand on his hips to push off, and every time I turn to see his face, his handsome features are more and more blissed out.

“Jesus Christ. How did you…how are you…” His knuckles go white around the wrought iron. “Goddamn you’re such a sweet, innocent whore. My angelic, little whore. They all want your pussy. They all want you, but you’re mine. Mine.”

That vile word—whore—tickles me down deep on the inside, exciting me, encouraging me. Makes me feel confident in my ability to give pleasure. It’s my job.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” I whimper, my orgasm vibrating through my center, strings pulling taut and snapping, letting me fly and fly, my butt scooting in every direction trying to find an anchor, knees squeezed to my chest, making him swell inside of me to the extreme.

His powerful back begins to arch up off the bed, a thunderous shout exploding out of his mouth. “Blessing!” I’ve never seen him shake so violently as he geysers inside of me, his spend leaking and squirting out of my flesh, I’m at capacity so quickly. “I love you. I love you.” He rears his hips up and curses. “I fucking love you.”

“I love you, too,” I whisper, lowering my legs and flopping down on top of him, listening to the riot of his heart against my ear. “Thank you for rescuing me, my sweet Scrooge.”

“You have it backward.” Still breathing hard, he kisses my temple. “My angel is the one who rescued me.”

I pout jokingly. “We rescued each other.”

His grin spreads in the darkness. “Deal.” Before I can smile back at him, I’m rolled face down, his heavy body pinning me to the mattress, his shaft already stiffening again. “Please,” he grunts against my ear, already humping me desperately. “I need this tight ass for Christmas, too.”

I give him a mock stern glance over my shoulder. “No.”

His hips don’t stop slamming into mine. “No?”

I giggle and shake my cheeks in his lap. “You can have it every day, Daddy.”