Chapter 37

37

Mira

The breath squeezes out of me. He’s bigger than I remember, and thicker. I’m spread around him, pinned to the bed, and he’s pushing against my channel walls. I was so wet, he slipped in easily and yet, his girth is such that flickers of pain travel to my brain.

"It hurts," I gasp.

"You knew it would."

"I’m not scared."

"You should be." With that, he thrusts his tongue between my lips and drinks from me. His cock throbs inside of me, and the sensations that ping through my blood signal the pleasure that’s on its way. He kisses me until all my attention is focused on where his lips meet mine and his tongue mates with mine. It’s a single-minded worshipping of my mouth, which wipes all thought from my head. Then, without breaking the kiss, he pulls back until he’s poised at the rim of my slit. When he breaks the kiss, I survey his features.

His cheeks are flushed. His eyes are alert. He surveys me closely, and this time, when he propels his hips forward and breaches me, the entire bed jolts. He slides inside all the way to the hilt, and I’m sure I can feel him in my throat. He stays there, watching my face, taking in every expression I’m unable to hide.

And when I part my lips, he slips his thumb inside my mouth. I suck on his digit and his eyes blaze. He drags his wet thumb down my chin, my cleavage, to the space between us. He circles the part where his cock is plugged inside me, and I can’t stop the mewl that slips from my lips. He plants his hands on either side of my head and pulls out slowly enough for me to feel every throbbing inch of his length. His next plunge sends a shockwave of sensations up my body, and he doesn’t stop.

In-out-in, his movements speed up. Each time he sinks inside me, he hits that secret spot in my core. Sweat breaks out on his beautiful shoulders, and the tendons of his throat stand out under his skin. His features are so stark, they seem lined with pain, and his gaze has an almost helpless quality to it. He continues to fuck me, never breaking the connection of our eyes, and it’s so intimate. More intimate than anything I’ve ever encountered in my life.

I dig my heels into his back, feel the planes of his back give and flex with each move. I dig my elbows into his shoulders, locking my arms about his neck. Like a machine, he continues. His body is a blur of motion, a power drill that has only one goal. Taking us to the top, together.

"Come with me," he orders. His body is wound so tightly, every inch of his body seems to be carved from stone, the muscles under his skin taut, the expression on his face strained. The heat of our bodies melds and traps us in a furnace of mutual desire. Then he slides his hand under my butt, into the cleavage between my ass cheeks, and when he slides it inside my forbidden hole, the climax blazes up from my toes. It shoots up my legs, tightens around my core and zips up my spine. I arch my back, open my mouth and when I cry out, he’s there. "Now," he growls.

And I shatter. The orgasm bursts behind my eyes, the white noise a roaring in my ears. The climax seems to go on and on. When I begin to float down from the high, I realize he’s still inside of me.

"Open your eyes as I come inside you, wife."

I manage to prop open my eyelids and hold his searing golden gaze. He fucks into me one last time, then his gaze widens, the flames inside his eyes flare into a shower of gold and silver, and with a low roar, he pours himself inside me. His body shudders, and his shoulders quiver. I hold onto him, tightening my grip as he empties himself. When he begins to slump, I tighten my grasp about him. He buries his face against my neck, and I turn my cheek into his sweaty hair. I inhale that edgy, spicy scent of his and fill my lungs with Edward.

"I’m too heavy." He begins to move, but I refuse to let him up.

"Stay. I like your weight on me."

The aftershocks convulse through him—or that might be me. At this moment, we feel like the same person. His muscles grow heavy, and when his body twitches, I realize he’s fallen asleep. I close my eyes and drift off.

Something wet licks between my legs. My nipples tighten. Sparks prickle along my skin. I moan, then gasp when a sucking sensation on my clit fans the sparks to flames. I crack open my eyes and look down long enough to glimpse his head between my thighs. Holy shit, the sight of his dark hair in contrast to my white skin, the intensity with which he’s focused on eating me out, the way he squeezes the backs of my thighs as he holds them apart, create the most carnal sight I've ever seen.

"Eddie," I moan.

It seems to spur him into action. He rises up on his knees then stretches out next to me. He turns me so my back is to his chest, pulls me in snug, then urges me to bend my knees. "What’re you doing?"

In response, he turns my head and kisses me. The taste of me and him intertwined together fans the flames that run through my veins. And when he nudges his cock into my slit, they become a forest fire. He slips inside me, filling me, stretching me in that pain-pleasure way. He brings his hand up to squeeze my nipple, and my pussy clenches.

"You’re so fucking perfect," he whispers against my mouth. Then rocks into me, then again. He presses tiny kisses up my cheek, then to that erogenous zone behind my ear. He ravishes the column of my neck and slides his hand down my stomach.

I flinch.

"What’s wrong."

"Nothing."

"Tell me," he orders.

"It’s—" I swallow. "I’ve never had a flat stomach. I’m not exactly thin."

"You’re perfect."

Tears prick my eyes. "Nice of you to say that, but a size sixteen is not everyone’s idea of beauty."

"It is mine." He leans back so he can look into my eyes. "You are my idea of beauty."

His cock twitches inside me as if to punctuate his words.

"And you call yourself emotionless."

"Except when I’m with you. You get under my skin—with your sweetness, your gentleness, your gorgeous curves, and your beautiful mouth."

"And you don’t like it."

"I don’t." He lowers his head until his mouth hovers over mine. "I love it."

I walk into Edward’s office and come to a stop. He’s standing at the window, his back to the room, his phone held to his ear. It’s snowing outside. A reminder that Christmas is less than a week away. It’s my favorite time of the year, but in the rush of events that have swept me in their wake over the last few weeks, I haven't been able to focus on it. I have to get him a gift; but he doesn’t believe in Christmas. Did he believe in it when he was a priest? Of course, he must have. Will he ever get over what had happened? I’d like to think last night is an indication that he might.

He came inside me twice, then woke me up, once again, before dawn when he slid inside me. He didn’t seem to be able to get enough of me.

He was so gentle that last time, so tender. He brought me to climax and it almost felt dreamlike, suspended as I was between that half-asleep, half-awake state. He came inside me again, and I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up when he brought me breakfast in bed. He’d already showered and dressed. He kissed my forehead and told me he was leaving for the office. He said I could take the day off, but I wasn’t able to stay away. I wanted to be near him.

Then, there's also the fact that he didn’t take off his clothes when he made love to me. And it was making love. He could call it by another name, but he wasn’t fooling me.

I take in his tall form, dressed, as always, in his three-piece suit. He was dressed in a similar one last night—when Sinclair helped him up the stairs and onto the bed, where he passed out, fully dressed.

I’ve never seen my husband naked. He turns and sees me. His lips curve in a smile, one that reaches his eyes. It lights up his features, making him look so much younger. Is this how he looked before her? Before he left the church? Before the incident?

He pockets his phone and stalks toward me. I’m aware of the answering smile which curves my lips.

He reaches me and takes in my features. "Sleep well?"

"Did you?"

"The best." His smile widens.

"I missed you." I curse myself as soon as the words are out. Because it’s true and because I don’t want to come across as clingy and because… I don’t want him to sense how much in love with him I already am.

A strange expression crosses his features. "You shouldn’t be so open with your feelings," he says in a guarded voice.

I scoff. "I know you missed me, too. Saying it aloud does not minimize your standing as an alpha-male."

"Thought you said I was an alphahole?" His eyes gleam.

"And you take it as a compliment?"

"Isn’t it?" He smirks.

Fish on an e-scooter, this is the first time he’s smirked. And it’s hot. So hot, my panties just melted, and I’m wet all over again. Good thing he didn’t use that particular weapon against me earlier or I’d have never been able to resist him. The sun rays glint off his hair, which is so dark, there’s a blue hue around it. His tawny eyes are a brilliant gold. The sense of power that clings to him is so potent, I almost orgasm spontaneously. You’d think having slept with him would lessen his appeal, but it’s only made me even more conscious of how attracted to him I am.

There’s a knock on the door. It opens, and Edward glances over my head. The color fades from his cheeks. "Ava?"