Chapter 32

32

Edward

Only when the words are out of my mouth, do I realize what I’ve said. And that she heard it, and that there's no turning back now. I tried to show her my true self, and I let the truth slip out— dammit—the very reason I lost my composure, the very reason I lied earlier. And now, it's all out there. And I know she’s going to ask me about it, and I’m not ready to talk about it—not now, not for a while. So like the coward I am, I tilt my hips, push forward, and breach her.

"Eddie," she cries out. No one’s ever called me by this nickname, and hearing it from her lips sends the blood draining to my cock. My cock thickens impossibly more, pushing up against her walls. I wait, wait, allow her to adjust to my size. Then, when the trembling in her body recedes, I propel my hips forward and bury myself inside her.

She groans.

So do I.

And because I can’t stop myself, because I’m falling for her—and my heart knows it, though my brain hasn’t yet caught on—and because she’s so fucking gorgeous laid out in front of me, and because her lips are a better taste, better than any liquor I've ever drunk, I lower my head and press my mouth to hers again. She parts her lips willingly, and I ease my tongue over hers. The taste of her is potent and sweet and complex and innocent, all mixed into one. It goes straight to my heart and ties a lasso around it, then heads to my cock. My shaft twitches. I draw of her breath, lick into her mouth, absorb her whimper, and when I straighten, she looks at me with so much trust, that ball of sensation in my heart expands until it bleeds into my skin and covers my entire body. I hold her gaze, then lock my fingers around the nape of her neck. "Do you trust me?"

She nods.

And it undoes me, all over again.

I reach down and around her, then begin to strum her pussy. Color flushes her cheeks, and she moans. Her muscles relax even more, and I slip deeper inside her. "You’re so tight… So hot… So perfect." I grit my teeth and allow her to adjust, once more, to my intrusion.

I continue to play with her pussy lips, circle her clit, and when I slide my fingers inside her cunt, she moans. "It’s too much. You’re filling me up. I can’t take any more."

"You can," I say with complete confidence in her. "You will. You’re my Belle."

"And you’re a beast," she moans.

I like that name even more, though I don’t say that aloud. Instead, I rub her clit with the heel of my palm. "Open up and let me in, baby."

She willingly widens her legs further. I continue to slide my fingers in and out of her, and when I add a fourth finger, she shudders.

"Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod," she chants. I don’t stop her. Even if I don't want to hear His name from her lips. Whatever she wants, whatever she needs, It’s hers.

Except me. I can’t give her myself. Not more than what I've already shared.

But I can make her come one last time. I pull out but stay poised at the rim of her back entrance. She shivers, and when I propel myself forward, I slide all the way in. My balls slap against her slit, and the entire desk shakes. A glass crashes to the ground, but I don’t stop. I pull out, once again, and still holding her gaze, push into her. I bury myself to the hilt, hitting that spot deep inside her.

"Oh—" she gasps. "Oh my—" I release my hold on her neck, squeeze her hip and position her at the right angle. This time, when I push into her, I hit that spot again. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. But I know. I know she’s close. She’s almost there. Her back curves, her thighs clench, and she squeezes down on my cock and my fingers. I pull out and push forward, again and again, and when her pupils dilate until only a circle of blue is visible, and the skin over her knuckles is stretched white, and that tell-tale shudder spirals up her hips, I lean over, place my lips above hers and command, "Come."

"You didn’t come, again."

She shoots me a sideways glance. I keep my gaze focused on the road ahead. After she shattered under me, I pulled out, then scooped her up in my arms, and took her into the ensuite. I helped her out of her clothes and, brushing aside her protests, cleaned her up. Then, I showed her the walk-in closet I had built especially so I could store clothes for her. She seemed taken aback by the range of clothes—all in her size, including the underwear.

“You bought all this?” she asked.

When I nodded, her gaze widened. “It’s not easy to find plus-size clothing; it must have taken you a lot of searching to find this array of clothes.”

“It was worth it. You’re worth it.” I helped her out of her clothes, and while she stood naked, I worshiped her with my eyes. I stored every curve of her body in my mind—her heavy breasts, the nip of her waist, the flaring of her hips, and those fleshy thighs that haunt my dreams. I wanted her to sit on my face, so I could take my time and make her come again. I wanted to crawl up her body, settle between her legs and finally, finally bury myself inside her. I almost lost my resolve and did just that, but at the last moment, I managed to tear myself from her. I left her to find a suitable change of clothes.

She chose a below-the-knee skirt, a blouse, and a jacket in a peach color that turned her skin to ivory.

She's so fucking beautiful, my wife. If only I could give her the kind of love she deserves. For the first time, I'm wondering if marrying her was a mistake. I didn't want anyone else to have her. I was selfish. I am selfish. I've spoiled her life, and I have to make up for it.

Once she was ready, I hustled her out of the office, not caring that it wasn't even five p.m. As I steered my wife toward the elevator, the receptionist shot me an alarmed look. When I didn’t acknowledge it, she jumped to her feet and walked over to me. “Are you okay, Sir? You’ve never left office this early before.”

“I wasn’t married then. I am now.”

Belle draws in a sharp breath.

My receptionist ignores her and takes a step in my direction. “If you need anything else?—?”

I squeeze my wife closer. “I have everything I need.”

This time, Belle turns to me, a question on her features, which I pretend not to notice.

I hustle her into the elevator, then hold her close as the elevator doors close on the receptionist’s crestfallen features.

“I think she has a crush on you,” Belle teases.

And I’d like to crush you in my arms , is what I want to say, but I don’t.

We ride in silence for a few more seconds, then she turns to me, “Is it true you’ve never left the office this early before?”

I nod.

“You didn’t have to leave early because of me.”

Yes, I do. I want to spend every second of every day with you. The first time I saw you, my heart hurt, and the throbbing in my groin has become a permanent fixture. My balls need to be drained before it gets to be too much. Too bad, I'm not going to indulge myself.

Something of my thoughts must be revealed in the stance of my body, for she stiffens, then scans my features. "Edward, have you taken a vow of abstinence?"