Chapter Ninety-Four

Ghost

I watched her walk toward the bedroom—for five seconds.

Then I was moving.

Stepping out on the lanai, I scanned the backyard out of habit, then quickly pulled the accordion shutters closed and secured them. Back inside, I grabbed a couple of cold waters from the fridge before I strode toward the security panel and used my personal code. The rest of the hurricane shutters began to automatically close over every door and window in the house while all the lights started systematically shutting off, room by room.

I stepped out of my boots and tossed my keys and wallet on the entryway table. Then I was counting strides in the rapidly darkening house I knew better than the one I'd grown up in.

I was halfway down the now pitch-dark hall, shirt unbuttoned, when I heard her panicked voice.

"Grayson?"

My cock grew harder as I grabbed my Glock from my SOB holster and counted off the remaining steps to the bedroom.

Clearing the corner, I moved into the room with a stealth born of necessity and training, then I cataloged.

The alarm clock I'd unplugged last night was still out. The small indicator light on the cell phone charger on her nightstand was lit but half obstructed from the lamp I'd positioned in front of it. The room was nearly pitch-black, and my wife was standing at the foot of the bed.

She called out again, louder this time. "Grayson?"

Using the minimal light cast from the phone charger, my vision trained for the dark, I watched my hayatim .

Facing the door, her back to the bed, she crossed her arms over her breasts. "Please answer me."

I silently set my Glock on the dresser.

She trembled. "I am afraid of the dark."

Moving past her, I placed my cell and the waters on the nightstand.

Drawing in a sharp inhale, she raised her head.

I repositioned to a meter in front of her.

Her voice came in a whisper. "Grayson?"

I removed my shirt. "Turn around, Safiya."

She flinched in surprise, then her arms tightened around herself. "I cannot see you."

She'd seen me for eight years. Now she was going to feel me.

Eliminating a step between us, reaching into my jeans pocket, I lowered my voice. "Turn."

She spun. "You closed the storm shutters. The nightlights went off. Why are you—"

I gathered her hair.

Sucking in a breath, she cut off midsentence and shivered.

Using the elastic I'd taken from her, I secured her long locks into a ponytail. Then I ran my hands across her shoulders and down her arms. "Cold?"

The goose bumps I already felt multiplied. "No."

I circled her wrists. "Frightened?"

She hesitated. "Yes."

Good. It'd heighten her awareness of me. "No covering yourself." I lowered her arms to her sides. "No hiding from me."

She tried to lean back into me.

I held her wrists firm and her arms straight. "Rules." I lowered my mouth to her ear. "You trust me. You follow my commands. You communicate."

"I would like to have the nightlights back on, please. Or the storm shutters in here opened."

The shutters made the house more secure, distorted time, kept the outside world at bay, and gave me room to both breathe and operate. I wasn't going to just fuck her.

I was going to strip my wife of her fears.

"You trust me," I repeated.

"Rules," she whispered.

"Yes." I sucked the side of her neck and stepped into her.

Her sharp inhale hit the deadened sound of the room, and my cock fucking throbbed.

Pressing her hips back, trying to grind on me, she fought against my grip on her wrists. "I-I would like to touch you."

Bringing her hands behind her back, I nipped the thin flesh over her collarbone and ground my erection against her. "I'd like to claim this gorgeous ass after I fill your sweet cunt with my seed."

She fucking froze.

I moved both her wrists to one hand, shoved my jeans off, then cupped her. "Problem?" She was already dripping desire.

"You…." She shivered. "Do you want children?"

Fully fucking aroused, I condensed the conversation. "You're not on birth control. I'm not going to use protection, and you're going to feel me every time I come inside you tonight." I stroked through her folds. She was fucking soaked. "I wouldn't be irresponsible with you if I wasn't prepared for the consequences." I'd promised her my heart yesterday. That fucking cross meant she got all of me. "No half measures," I reminded her.

"Consequences," she repeated.

"Children," I amended, done talking. Stroking myself once, needing to claim her, I sank two fingers inside her tight cunt. "If you object, tell me now." If she did, I'd pivot. If she wanted a small army, I'd fuck her tirelessly. Either way, I got my dark-eyed beauty who'd sealed her fate that day she'd looked at me like I could move fucking mountains.

Her back bowed, and she bore down on my hand.

Fuck , she was perfect. "That's it, beautiful." I stroked deeper. She struggled against my hold, and my cock surged at the hint of her resistance. "You have two seconds to object." Then she was going to get exactly what I had planned for her, because this woman stole my reason.

"N-no objection." Panting, voice breathy, she leaned forward. "I want what you want."

I shoved her chest down to the bed and kicked her legs apart.

Forced air expelled from her lungs on impact, and her knees bent.

Holding her arms locked behind her back, I stroked against her G-spot.

She fucking mewled.

I was going to shatter this woman. "Do you want to come?"

She begged. " Please ."

"Wait." With focused pressure, I rubbed harder.

Her cunt pulsed, and she started to shake. "Grayson!"

"Wait," I ordered with more force.

"I-I cannot wa—"

"Come." I thumbed her clit and stroked fast and deep.

Her moan filled the bedroom, and I practically came with her.

Pulsing hard, constricting around my fingers, I gave her the orgasm.

For eight seconds.

Then my wet fingers were around my cock, stroking my hard shaft as I brought my head to her tight entrance and rocked in an inch.

Her gasp ate her moan, and she jerked forward.

I lost control of eight fucking years and drove into my wife.

She came off the bed, a cry echoed, and my axis tilted.

Jesus .

Fucking .

Christ .

Hot. Wet. Tight. Perfect .

Head back, eyes closed, I held on to her hips, and for two goddamn seconds, I fucking drowned.

Turkish spilled out of her mouth.

My mind already spun up, my cock throbbing, my balls drawing in, I only caught a couple of her words. Big. Fit.

Wrapping her hair around my fist, I yanked her head back.

Then my mouth was on hers. Kissing her how I was fucking her, driving my tongue into her sweet heat, I let go of her hip and splayed my hand just above her sex.

Pushing her back into me as I thrust forward, I circled her clit with two fingers.

She melted into me.

Fuck. "That's it, beautiful. Good girl." I bit the side of her neck, then sucked. "You're taking me flawlessly." I increased the pressure on her clit.

Her body trembled, then my hayatim absolutely fucking wrecked me. "You are filling up my entire body as if you are touching my soul."

I fucking stilled.

Then I cupped my woman's face and turned her head toward mine as I leaned down. "You can't see me, but I'm looking right at you." I pulsed inside her. "Do you feel me? Do you feel how we fit together?"

Her tears dripped down my hand. "Yes."

"You are my soul, Safiya Savas." I kissed my wife.

She cried.

I didn't stop.

I stroked through her sweet mouth, I teased her clit, and I kissed her until her cunt started to constrict around my cock.

Then I pushed her back down to the bed, brought her knees onto the mattress, and I fucking unleashed.

Hard and fast, I drove into her.

Gripping her by the waist, grinding my hips, angling my thrusts, I fucked my hayatim .

I fucked her until her shattering cry filled the whole damn house and she fell apart.

Then I fucking let go, and came inside my wife.

Every second of the past eight years came together.