Chapter Eighty-Five

Ghost

I 'd slid into bed with her before she'd woken up. I'd brought her tea, and I'd taken her in the ocean. Her naked body this morning. The bikini she was in now. That shy, submissive smile when I'd tied the strings holding the scraps of fabric covering exactly where I wanted my mouth and hands.

I was fucking unraveling.

The necklace in my pocket, my cock hard, my head was spun up.

"You are more quiet than usual."

Sitting behind her in the pool, restraining the beast, reminding myself I was giving her more time to get used to me, I kissed her shoulder.

Goose bumps hiked across her neck, and her voice dipped. "And there is a new dress hanging in the closet."

There were also some of my clothes. She hadn't noticed yet. She'd been sound asleep when I'd let myself back into the house before sunrise. "Is that a question, beautiful?"

She glanced over her shoulder to look up at me. "Would you answer if it were?"

I coasted my hand down her thigh. "Try me."

She didn't miss a beat. "How come you did not stay last night, and why is there a new designer dress in the closet?"

Bringing my mouth to her ear, I nipped when I wanted to bite. "That's two questions." The first I wouldn't answer. She didn't need to know I'd had to leave before I'd fucked her raw. "We're going out later."

She turned in my arms, and her breasts pushed together. "On a date?"

Hanging on by a fucking thread, I winked.

Then I started justifying.

We'd had eight years. We were legally married. I hadn't fucked around on her. Al-Hashimi was dead. I gave her my past yesterday, and I'd fucking fed her.

I'd fucking fed her.

"You are not going to tell me, are you?"

I stared.

Lips tipped up. Cheeks flushed that had nothing to do with the heat or the sun. No hurt, no fear in her eyes. My hayatim was fucking flirting with me.

I was done.

"You're done out here." I picked her up.

No protest, she also didn't put her arm around me to hold on.

If my cock wasn't raging fucking hard, I might've smiled. I'd been conditioning her all day. Not to protocols but to my dominance. Direct and subtle commands. Swim to me. Wait. Arms around me. Let go. Float. Dunk. Look at me when you speak to me. Inhale. Hold your breath. Exhale. Shifts in tone, directives and orders. I'd issued as many commands as I had suggestions. Then there was the praise. Infrequent, without pattern, and varied. I'd gotten her attention each time.

I had it now.

Not disguising my intent, but not laying it all out, I gave her a partial heads-up. "We're showering outside, then I'll get you ready for dinner. You may put your arms around my neck."

"Thank you." Soft, shy, her voice landed a split second before her arms.

I carried her to the shower.

Yesterday, both a fucking blink and a lifetime ago, I wanted my woman naked. I wanted to feast on every inch of her body, and I wanted to claim her. Then I would be complete. We'd be fucking complete.

But first, I needed to handle her.

Carefully.

With that thought, I set her down, turned on the water, and stripped her without preamble.

Her nipples hardened, and she pressed her thighs together.

My cock surged, and I reached for the shampoo. "Head back."

"You are washing my hair?"

"I'm washing all of you." Then I was going to make her bleed.

"May I wash you?"

"No." Never. "Head back, Safiya."

Heeding my tone, she complied.

I washed the ocean off her. I washed the pool from her. I scrubbed my fucking mind of every filthy thing I wanted to do to her. Mission focused, I made quick work of soaping her body and rinsing mine.

Turning off the shower, I grabbed two towels and wrapped one around her, then dried myself before I picked her up.

Startled, she drew in a breath, but she didn't comment.

I carried her into the house and set her on the kitchen counter where she'd inadvertently sealed her fate last night. Then I stripped her towel away and kissed her.

For a single minute, I lost myself.

Her soft groan, her pulse under my palm, her trust, her innocence.

Before I sank any further, I pulled back and stroked her neck once, then I gave her a command disguised as a choice. "Give me permission, Safiya."

Breathless, lips wet, eyes hooded, her chest rapidly rose and fell as she stammered, "F-for what?"

"Permission, Safiya. Give it now, or we stop here."

She took two more breaths, then her eyes focused on me. "What am I giving permission for?"

She knew. I waited.

Her pulse jumped and her throat moved, but her stare held. "Permission for…?"

I didn't answer. She had eight seconds. One for every year. Then I was going to take the decision away from her.

Lines formed between her eyes. "You are not…." She took another breath, and her gaze dropped as her voice went dead quiet. "I do not have any experience."

I fucking knew. And I was salivating for it.

"I-I may not please you."

She'd please the fuck out of me.

She whispered even quieter. "You are not saying anything."

No, I fucking wasn't.

If she wanted my attention, she knew to look at me. If she wanted my hands on her, she knew what to say. This wasn't my decision. But once she gave me permission, I'd become exactly who she'd accused me of.

A thief.

I'd take her virginity, rob her of choice, and make her body bend to my will. She wouldn't get a safe word. I wouldn't listen to bullshit protests based on fear. I'd make her come whenever, wherever I wanted. She was in or she was out.

No half measures.

She looked up. Trepidation evident, nerves free-falling, she covered her breasts with her arms. Then the girl who'd first looked at me a world away and a lifetime ago saw me as she'd seen me then. "I do not think I am giving permission for only one thing."

"No, you're not."

She fucking remembered. Almost verbatim. "There will not be any half measures between us."

"Correct."

"And if I am afraid?"

"Then you'll be afraid with me."

She didn't nod. She didn't acquiesce. My dark-eyed Turkish beauty fucking submitted. "I give you permission, Grayson Ryker Gautier."

I surged.

Mouth on hers, hand on breast, thumb on clit. I fucking let loose. Devouring her with my tongue, biting that bottom lip, pinching her nipples, I tasted her, I thrust against her needy cunt, and I ate her moans.

Then I used the weight of my chest, pushed her back, and broke the kiss as I laid her out on the counter. Holding her gaze, I skimmed down her legs with pressure and grasped her ankles. "You're going to spread yourself open for me, beautiful." I placed her feet on the counter, then rubbed up her calves. "Wide open." I pushed her knees out. "And you're going to hold it." Keeping her in position, I rose.

Then I looked down at my hayatim .

Bare, wet, tight, small clit.

Jesus.

I hooked a finger through her folds and came away coated in her thick desire.

She trembled and her core constricted, but alarm hit her voice. "Grayson?"

She had a perfect fucking cunt, and I was going to destroy it.

She tried to bring her legs up. "Maybe… I think…."

"You're beautiful." I pushed her knees back down. "Stay."

She pleaded. "Wait."

"No." Already spreading her, too fucking late to turn back now, I looked.

Hymen.

Intact.

My cock pulsed, precum leaked, and I dropped my mouth over her cunt.

Then I fucking feasted.

Sinking my tongue inside her, licking at her barrier, thumbing her clit, swallowing her innocence, I took, and I tasted, and I let her hands fist my hair.

For one minute.

Then I latched on to her clit and bit.

Her back arched, her legs came up, and she cried out.

I grabbed her wrists and put her hands on the granite. "Grip the edge of the counter," I ordered, pushing her knees to her chest. "Stay. Just like that."

Conditioned, submissive, trembling, perfect, she did.

"Good, beautiful." I palmed one nipple and pinched the other. "Do you know what you're going to do now?"

Needy and spread wide, she moaned. Desperate, her voice shook. "Grayson. Please ."

"You're going to come for me, beautiful." I licked from her perineum to her clit and rimmed her once with two fingers, making sure she was wet as hell. Then I latched on to her clit and sucked as I tongued her hard and fast.

She fucking detonated.

I didn't hesitate.

Driving my two waiting fingers into her cunt with one deep stroke, I broke her barrier.

Her body jerked, she flew up off the counter, and her cry echoed through the house as her nails dug into my biceps.

I gripped her throat and drove my fingers deeper. " Mine ."

Her lips parted with a strangled gasp, and tears fell from her gorgeous dark eyes.

Stroking deep, I coated my digits in her pain, her innocence, and her first orgasm from a man. All of it fucking belonged to me.

Then I pulled out and drew my bloodied fingers against my chest.

One vertical line.

One horizontal.

Cross my heart.

I brought my lips to my wife's. " Hayatim ."