Chapter 36
Quentin
I kiss her firmly on the lips, then move toward the bathtub. I run the taps, making sure to add something that fills the air with the scent of roses. I hold my fingers under the tap, then nod. Just the right temperature for my wife.
I return, scoop her up, then step inside the bathtub and sink down. I cradle her against my chest. With the hot water lapping around us, I slowly relax. Steam fills the room. I wrap my arms about her and soak in the warmth.
When the water reaches the level of her nipples, I reach up with my foot and shut off the tap. Making her come is the greatest feeling ever. I can't wait to give her more orgasms. The thought sends the blood draining to my groin. Nope, I need to let her rest and recover. Unfortunately, my cock doesn't get the memo, for it extends and insists on settling against the cleavage between her arse-cheeks. I've never felt this young, this alive, this turned on, this hopeful about the future as when I'm with her. I hold myself still, not wanting to disturb her, content to watch as her eyelids shutter down and she melts into me.
Her blonde curls stick to her forehead from the steam, her lips turned up slightly. That flush on her cheeks is not only due to the hot water; it"s the orgasm I gave her that relaxed her completely. She looks so serene and sweet, and so well-fucked in my arms, it seems like a pity to wake her. No matter that having her curves pressed up against me has given me a raging hard on. I want to bury myself in her pussy, I want to squeeze the plumpness of her fleshy thighs, I want to mark the perfect swell of her bottom, then bend her over and fuck her arse. I want to lick and suck and possess every hole of hers.
I want to make her come so hard, she forgets every man who came before me. My thoughts send the blood draining to my groin and tighten my balls. I want to be inside her so badly, but hearing her sigh and watching her parted lips and the softness of her features, I don't want to rouse her. We could spend the rest of our lives in this bathtub with her in my arms, and I wouldn't complain. My dick, sadly, has other plans.
She draws in a sharp breath, and I know she's back with me.
I cup her pussy, and a whimper escapes her. And when I push aside her hair and drag my stubble across the curve of her shoulder, she shivers.
I trace my fingers up the cleavage between her pussy lips, then down to play with the rosette between her butt cheeks. She gasps, then spreads her legs, giving me more access. When I bring my fingers back to her clit to trace the swollen bud, she writhes and rubs up against my erect shaft.
I have been erect since the first day I saw her. And this, despite wanking off every opportunity I've had. Nothing's going to compare to being inside of her. And I'm not letting myself take her until I've ensured I've made her come enough times.
I pause.
I've never been as concerned about satisfying a woman before this. I've never wanted to care for someone else like this before. Never wanted to protect anyone else from the world—except for my son, but that"s a different emotion. This, what I feel for her, is dangerously close to something I've never felt before. It's the kind of love that would make me want to burn down the world if it would make her happy. The kind of love where I wouldn‘t hesitate to give her anything she wants and stop anything or anyone from ever hurting her.
The kind of love that heats my blood and makes my heart stutter. And ties my insides up in knots.
I freeze with my fingers inside her pussy.
She squirms against me, and when I don't react, she turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder. Her lips are parted, her breath coming in pants, but when she peruses my features her eyebrows knit, "What's wrong?"
I stare deeply into her eyes, taking in the naked emotion in them. A mixture of need and lust, and a yearning so strong, it hits me in the chest like a steam roller. I want to tell her what I realized. That despite my best efforts not to, I'm falling for her. That I've never felt this way about anyone else.
I open my mouth to tell her, but nothing comes out.
"Q?" She pulls away, then turns around so she's positioned on her knees between my legs. "Is everything okay?"
I will never be okay. I'll never go back to being the person I was. You're already changing me. Out loud,I say, "Why wouldn't I be?" I manage a smirk. "I was simply thinking how I can't wait to fuck your arse."
She flushes, then firms her lips. "I want to believe you, but something in your eyes tells me it's more than that."
She searches my features again, and I resist the urge to look away. This woman sees me, and it strikes a chord of fear in my heart. I feel like I"ve bared my soul to her. Another first.
It"s taken a woman less than half my age to bring me to heel. She's one of the most caring women I've ever met. Someone who feels responsible for her family and lives up to those expectations of herself. Felix's mother destroyed my faith in humanity when she left her child, but my wife is beginning to restore it, brick by brick.
"Baby"—I cup her cheek—"you're one of the few people who sees through my bullshit."
"I am your wife, after all." She snorts.
"And there"s no one else like you." No one else—not my fellow Marines, not my father or my brothers or my nephews, and definitely not my son's mother—can look past my facade, to the sentiments that lurk underneath.
She blushes further, then bites down on her lower lip. I can feel the tug all the way to the crown of my cock. I can't stop myself from bending my head and covering her mouth with mine.
Her taste is drugging, and evocative, and the stuff my dreams are made of. It shifts something in my chest, then turns my thighs to iron and my balls into obsidian.
When I tear my mouth away, both of us are panting.
I search her eyes. Can she tell what she already means to me? That my life will never be the same again. I'm no longer Quentin Davenport. I'm first and foremost, my Raven's husband. Her protector. Her defender. Her lover. Her dominant.
She must sense something of my thoughts, for her eyes widen. Her lips curve in a soft smile. She dives in again for a kiss, but I evade her mouth.
I can"t tell her what I feel for her. It"s too much, too soon. It makes me feel too vulnerable. But I"m so grateful to have her in my life, so grateful that she's gotten me in touch with my emotions again, the least I can do is make her come. So what, if I'm avoiding talking about feelings by making her orgasm, I will tell her what I feel for her. Just not yet.
"Q, please—" she begins, but I grip her hips and lift her up. Thanks to our height difference, I"m able to position her over my face. She balances her knees on my shoulders, clutches my head for support, then stares down at me. "Wh— What are you doing?"
"I"m contemplating my wife's cunt; you have a problem with that?" I stare at her glistening pussy, and her stomach muscles clench. I press soft kisses up one thigh, then down the other, before I pull her close to my mouth. "Ride my face."
"What?" The shock in her voice makes me chuckle.
"Press that sweet little slit into my mouth and let me lick it until you come."
"You already did that," she squeaks.
"This time, I won't use my fingers."
When she hesitates, I apply enough pressure, so she has no choice but to bend her knees and bring the flesh between her legs close to my lips. I instantly latch onto her clit and suck.
She cries out, throws her head back, digs her fingers into my shoulders, and tugs. A burning sensation sparks down my neck, my spine. My cock jumps in anticipation. I growl against her cunt, and her thighs quiver. I slide my hands down until I'm cupping her butt cheeks. I squeeze them, and she whimpers.
The sounds she makes form the symphony of my life. Her lips, her pussy, her fingers, the touch of her skin on mine, the sound of her voice, her scent, the way she smiles, her little moans when she's aroused, the way she doesn't hesitate to go toe-to-toe with me, how she cares for the people in her life, how she embraces her submissive side and doesn't hesitate to open herself up to new experiences—all of it has chained my heart and locked it, and she has the key.
I'm hers. Does she realize that? Can she sense it in how I handle her body? And she is mine. She belongs to me.
That fire under my skin turns into a blaze. I begin to lick between her pussy lips, around her clit, then down to her slit, where I stuff my tongue inside her warm, wet channel. She whines and squeezes her thighs around my face, and fuck me, but this is heaven. Between her legs, with her thick thighs suffocating me. I slide my fingers down the valley between her butt cheeks and play with her back hole. At the same time, I curl my tongue inside her and her body bucks. She curves her back, throws her head back and screams. Moisture bathes my mouth, drips down my chin, and she convulses as she orgasms.
When she goes limp, I bring her down to my chest, where she curls in.
We stay that way until the water begins to cool. Her shoulders twitch, and she snoozes. I don't want to wake her up, but I also can't stop myself from trailing my fingers over the curve of her shoulder. I bend and sniff her throat, inhaling the scent of her body now infused with the notes from the rose-scented bath salts especially for her. For her, I'll allow myself to smell like flowers.
I push the hair from her face, then bend and kiss first one eyelid, then the other. I kiss the tip of her cute little nose, her lips. She parts them, and I slide my tongue inside, then stop when she stirs.
I don't want to wake her. She deserves to rest. She must be tired. I take full credit for her orgasms. I allow myself a small smile. I wore her out, and her muscles are so relaxed, she's almost comatose. It's been a long day, and no doubt, her emotions have been all over the place. I draw back slowly and wait until she settles, and her breathing deepens.
I rise up and step out of the tub, holding her in my arms. I manage to dry her and bring her to bed, where I tuck her under the covers. Then I deposit the tray of food back in the kitchen and do a quick sweep of the house to make sure all the doors and windows are locked, and the security system is active. Not something I've done before, but with the most precious thing in the world under my roof, I want to make sure everything is secured. By the time I crawl into bed with her and pull her into my chest, I've already missed being with her, and we were apart for less than ten minutes.
She's becoming a necessity, an addiction. One that's settled deep into my skin and bones and become a part of me in the way no one else has. All signs that I'm in love with my wife. She has the power to hurt me more than anyone else on this earth.
Something I'll worry about later.
For now, I'm going to enjoy the curve of her butt, the contour of her waist, the honeyed softness of her skin, the rose-tinged scent of her shampoo, combined with the familiar scent of my soap that smells different on her. She smells like mine, and I know I'm fucked. There's no escaping the fact that I've made myself vulnerable to her.
When Felix's mother left, I swore I'd never allow anyone else into my life. Yes, I was at fault for what happened with her. And no, I hadn't loved her, but it didn't make the aftermath any easier to bear. It pushed me to bury myself deeper in my career. I was confident I'd never let myself be that vulnerable again. Yet, here I am, in love with a woman less than half my age. A woman who's my wife. Who I'm wedded to and have no plans of letting go.
But what if she grows tired of me?
If she leaves me too, what then?
She won't. I'll make sure of that. I close my eyes and drift off.
I'm back in a familiar nightmare. I know I'm dreaming but I"m unable to snap out of it. I'm back in that office on the warship off the coast of Russia that doubled up as our headquarters. I'm the commanding officer in charge of a secret mission to exterminate the insurgents who pose a serious threat to our country. The drones over the hideout of the enemy beam pictures to our screens. I'm watching the scene unfold on screen, but there's tense silence around me.
I"ve realized that the intel we received is faulty. Our team is on the scene—where they shouldn't be. But so are the enemies to our country.
If I don't call the strike, they'll go through with the plan to detonate the bomb in central London, causing one of the most horrific terrorist incidents in the modern history of the city.
If I do—we'll lose all four team members.
They should not have been anywhere near there, but the information was tainted.
They"re also outnumbered. There's at least fifty hostiles spread across that square mile. If our team doesn't die from our missile attack, they"re going to be hunted down by the enemy and meet a far more horrific end.
One way or the other, they're not coming out of this alive.
Experience tells me that. And if I don't take out the enemy soldiers, many more people will be injured.
The operator manning the controls grips the edge of the table with white knuckles. He's sweating, despite the air-conditioning in the space. There's silence in the room.
On screen, the sunlight is blinding. The buildings sprawled across the complex seem to be uninhabited, but the drones picking up the body heat of those inside indicate otherwise.
Then a figure emerges from the door. The drone zooms in on him, and the picture reveals he has a portable missile launcher over his shoulder. Fuck.
The Fire Control Operator in charge of deploying the missile swears. "You can't do this."
He's the one person on my team who challenges my command. As if I need to be reminded of what's at stake? If I don't follow through, I'll have failed in my duty to my country and to my monarch and to my fellow citizens. I'll have failed to protect them. And if I do... I'll have hurt my own family, irreparably.
It's likely Ryot will never forgive me for this.
The sweat pools in my armpits. My chest tightens. My entire career has led up to this moment. I call upon all of my military experience to help me make the judgement call. I know what I have to do. I push all of my doubts and feelings into a box and bury it in the deepest part of my soul.
"Stand by to engage on my command," I growl.
The tension in the room spikes. The rest of my team is motionless, their eyes riveted to the screen. The scent of sweat and stress, a pungent mix of body odor and something more acidic, deepens. It's the scent of oncoming tragedy. I can taste it on my tongue, feel the electricity in the air. The hair on the back of my neck rises.
"Fire," I bark.
The operator hesitates. This has never happened before. He has never questioned my command. This situation has divided my team. It's going to tear my unit—my family away from home—apart. My heart sinks.
Then with a herculean effort I shove my grief into the same box as my other feelings.
When I speak, my voice is calm, "That's an order, Marine."
There's an edge of authority to my tone that demands action. It cuts through the heaviness in the space. The operator presses the button. The missiles fire. My heart stops then starts up again. Thump-thump-thump, the blood booms in my ears.
There's a delay of a few seconds.
Then the buildings blow up, as does our drone.
The picture cuts out.
The operator jumps to his feet; he turns to me. "You took out our own." His eyes blaze, but underneath it is the same sorrow that I tucked away.
"Collateral damage." I keep my voice casual, but my heart squeezes in my chest.
My mind, though, is absolutely clear. I followed the rules to the letter. I did the right thing.
The operator advances on me, an ugly expression twisting his features. His face morphs until he looks like Ryot, who then raises his fist and smashes it into my face. I rear back.
I'm dreaming. I'm still dreaming.
I try to wake up but am unable to break free of the images. Pain, so much pain, filling every molecule in my body and engulfing me. I deserve this. I am responsible for this destruction. I should be punished. I don't defend myself. Don't throw up my arms to ward off his blows.
His features morph again, so he looks like my wife. Raven's bleeding from a wound to her chest, and half her face is blown up. "You did this to me!" She turns her accusing eyes on me.
No!My heart somersaults into my throat. Not my Raven. Not after I realized I love her. I can't lose her.
You're still dreaming.
But the anguish that squeezes my ribcage feels all too real. I deserve this. I deserve to pay for what I did to Ryot. I deserve to lose the love I've waited a lifetime for.
I stumble back. "I had to," I plead with her. "I had to do it. I couldn't not."
"This is your fault." She stabs her finger into my chest.
A sharp pain cuts through my ribcage. The woman I'd give my life for is blaming me for what happened.
And I... I know she's right.
"I know. It"s all my fault. And I"m so sorry."
Her eyes flash. "It's not enough."
Her features morph back to Ryot"s. "You will lose what is most dear to you." His voice is cold.
There's a finality to it that chills me to the bone.
This is my punishment. I'm cursed to lose the one thing, the person I love the most. I'm cursed to lose her.
"No." I shake my head. "No."
"Yes." He cracks his neck. "Only then, will you know my pain."
Sweat beads my forehead and slides down my back. My body is heavy. I"m sinking. It"s impossible to breathe.
I shake my head. "Nothing can happen to her."
"Quentin?" Her voice calls from somewhere far away.
No, not my Raven. I cannot lose her.
"Now you'll know how it feels to not want to live anymore." Ryot bares his teeth. "To have the one thing you love the most ripped away from you. To have your future turn into a black hole of despair, to lose every hope and wake up every morning cursing the fact you're alive and she isn't. You deserve this. You dug your hole; now bury yourself in it."
He begins to laugh. The sound echoes inside my head, ripples down my spine, and shreds through my veins, my cells, until every part of my body has turned into an instrument of torture.
I know then, I can't let her into my life. I can't risk losing her. I can't risk something happening to her.
I have to let her go before someone destroys her to destroy me.
Run, Raven. Run from me. Run before I wreck you like I've wrecked everything I have ever valued. My relationship with my family. My son. And now you. Run, you deserve better.
"Run—" I snap my eyes open and see her face hovering over mine.
The curve of her eyebrows, those thick eyelashes, the pain-filled eyes swimming with tears, those bee stung lips forming my name: "Q?" She cups my cheek. "You were having a nightmare."
I grip her shoulders. "A nightmare?" I croak around the constriction in my throat.
A nightmare from which there is no waking. I know what I did. I did wrong by Ryot. I did wrong by my son. And now, I'm going to do wrong by her. I was selfish. I saw her and decided to use her to secure my future. I married her to ensure I got my inheritance. I was drawn to her, then fell in love with her. I allowed myself to become vulnerable to her... Knowing she'll leave me one day. Knowing I'll hurt her like I've hurt everyone else in my life, and then she'll be gone. I'm going to lose her. It's inevitable. Sweat pours down my back, clings to my shoulders.
My heart seems to have expanded to occupy my entire body. I'm one big mass of throbbing, aching, hurt. And she can save me. This one time, I can use her body to get rid of this desperate feeling that grips me. This one time, I can bury myself in her and find solace. And then... I'll let her go. Then, I'll walk away from her before I further damage her life. She"ll be better off without me.
I'll become a distant memory, and she can move on. She can find someone better than me. Someone who'll love her the way she deserves. I swallow the bitterness crowding my throat. Someone who'll kiss her and fuck her and?—
"Q, you're hurting me." She swallows.
I loosen my grip on her.
"I'm sorry"—I memorize her features— "so sorry."
Am I apologizing for holding her too tightly, or for letting her go?For the inevitable distance I"m going to put between us... But not yet. I have her in my bed, in my arms, and I can love her... Just for now, I can give her pleasure. I can't undo the fact I married her, but I can bring her to orgasm. I can fuck her the way she deserves. I can make it so good for her, better than anything she's experienced in the past or will from any other man in her future. The thought of anyone else holding her lights a fire in my veins. I flip her onto her back.
"Q," she gasps, "what are you—" She cries out, for I've pushed her legs apart, positioning myself against her opening.