Chapter 38

38

Knox

Her entire body jolts. Her back curves. And with a cry, she orgasms. I watch her throw her head back and screw her eyes shut as she comes.

"Look at me," I command.

She slowly opens her eyelids, and I peer into her eyes as I fuck her through the tremors that grip her. I push my forehead into hers and allow myself to be drawn into the vortex that is her as I come inside her. Her body slumps under me and her eyelids flutter down. I stay there, reveling in the warmth of her pussy, the feeling of belonging, which is both new and also, so right. She's home. She's mine. She's everything. And I'm hers.

I pull out of her, conscious of my cum spilling down her thigh. I push it back inside of her, wanting her body to hold every drop of it. Then I ease myself onto my back and gather her in my arms as she sleeps. I tuck her head under my chin and hold her close.

I try to sleep but I can't. The sex was like nothing I've ever experienced. To say it was mind-blowing is putting it lightly. I wanted to get her to submit to me. Instead, it's as if my ribcage was cracked open, exposing my heart to her. It's like I'm the one who's been brought to my knees. I'll never be the same again. It can never be like this with anyone else.

She accepted and welcomed whatever I wanted to do with her; only, it's not enough. I want more. I want to test how long I can edge her. I want to tie her up and arouse her until she's screaming. I want to take her other virgin hole. I want to tie her up again and spank her until she's so turned on, she'll orgasm as soon as I finger her cunt. I want to...rouse her to fever pitch, then make her beg for my cock. And then, I want to refuse her until she's out of her mind with desire and spreading her thighs and parting her pussy lips and asking me to take her, to put her out of her misery. I want all of that and so much more. Damn. I want to explore every secret fetish, every kink I've dreamed of, with her.

I'm falling for her... I knew this would be the outcome the moment I first saw her. I knew, when I made love to her, it'd be like nothing I'd encountered before. I knew I'd be changed by it... And knowing I'm her first, that she's never been with anyone else before this and won't be after, is a thought that's headier than any aphrodisiac.

Consummating my wedding with my wife on our first night as husband and wife, with my wife being a virgin… If you'd painted this scenario for me, I'd have laughed. But that's how things worked out. And it feels right. And it's because of her. Because she's special…and dazzling…and beautiful…and unique… And I'm not worth the dirt under her feet. But I'm keeping her. I'm never letting go. I told her I wasn't going to consummate the marriage, but I did. We may have started out as an arrangement, but it means more to me than that. A strange fullness grips my chest. It's a sensation I'm unable to pin down.

"Hey—" She clears her throat. "Why are you frowning?"

I glance down to find her looking at me with sleepy eyes. She reaches up and traces the fold between my eyebrows. "You look so intense."

When I don't reply, she pushes her elbows into my chest and balances her chin on her palm. "Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"You looked like you had a lot on your mind."

"I did," I admit.

"Care to share?"

These feelings inside me are too new. I need to make sense of them before I tell her. I find myself withdrawing from her and manage a smile. "Was wondering what to feed you for breakfast."

"This is a beautiful venue," She looks around the restaurant. It has a view of the Seine and the various bridges that crisscross it. In the distance is the Eiffel Tower which we visited earlier. She wanted to go, and I couldn't refuse her. She catches me watching her and flushes. "What? Is there something on my face?" She pulls up her phone and checks her appearance on the screen.

"You're good."

The wait staff places our food in front of us and retreats.

"You ordered for me again?" She glances down at her plate.

"Saffron-infused golden beetroot carpaccio with micro greens and aged balsamic pearls. " I nod toward her food.

"Ooh, that sounds and smells yummy." She glances at my plate. "What are you having?

"Grilled Portobello Mushroom Steaks with Truffle Risotto and Roasted Asparagus."

She pushes her glasses up her nose. She's not wearing her contact lenses today, and I'm so happy about that. Not only because it makes her sexier to look at, but also because she deserves to be comfortable in her own skin, always.

"It's vegan?" She peers at the food.

"It is." I nod. I opted for a dish she could eat, so I can do this. "Try it."

I scoop some of the food onto my fork and offer it to her.

She licks the morsels off the tines, and instantly, I'm hard again. Fuck. Throughout our sightseeing this morning, I found myself reaching for her, holding her hand, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. In short, behaving like a besotted husband on his honeymoon.

I have a feeling this is why Arthur gifted us this trip. He knew, the moment I had my wife alone in a hotel room, all bets were off.

Canny bastard wanted to make sure we'd consummate the marriage. It's well-known among the Davenports, the old man doesn't put merit on any of us being married—not unless it's also consummated. He stopped saying it to our faces though, and instead, found sneaky ways to ensure the deed was done so it'd increase his chances of a progeny. And I couldn't have refused the trip without arousing his suspicions, so here we were. Speaking off, I set down my fork and rub my chin. "We never spoke about contraception. I'm sorry, I should have checked, but I got carried away." Very unlike me, again. "You're on the pill, aren't you?"

She shoots me a curious look.

"I saw it in your purse." I shrug. "And I'm clean. I can email the blood work to you."

She shakes her head. "I believe you. I'm clean, too. I mean, I would be, considering you're the first man I've slept with."

And the last, I think to myself. I shake my head. "It's unbelievable that you were a virgin, but just so you're aware, it wouldn't have made a difference if you hadn't been."

"No?"

I shake my head. "The pleasure I can give you would have far outweighed what anyone else could have."

She scoffs, "Ego much?"

"You know, it's a fact."

She narrows her gaze on me, then sighs. "I believe you, especially after the way you made me orgasm earlier."

I soften my gaze. "It's also you, baby. You're so sensitive to my touch."

"It's us," she says slowly. "I doubt I'd have that response to anyone else."

"It's us." I frown. She's right. I haven't felt this way with anyone else. It confirms to me what I felt before. What I have with my wife is singular. It's extraordinary, really. Unequalled by any other experience in my life. The rush I got from coming inside her beats the exhilaration of my first helo jump. And that , is saying something. Fucking hell. I'm in love with her. I lean back in my seat.

When Arthur asked me if I loved her... I wasn't lying when I said I did. It's why sex with her is so unique, so different, an almost spiritual experience. It's why I feel comfortable opening myself up to her. It's why I know I have to be vulnerable to her. It's why I want to share all of myself, including my proclivities, with her. Because I love her. I've been falling for her since the day I first saw her .

No wonder, I orchestrated events, so I'd marry her and find a way to keep her close to me. No wonder, I forgot about contraception in my need to take her. I want to bind her to me in the ultimate way possible. I subconsciously want her to have my child. Despite knowing she's using contraceptives. I want her enough to hope I'd impregnate her. I rub the back of my neck. I'm well and truly fucked.

She squirms around in her seat, then winces. "Are you okay?" I frown.

Her cheeks flush. "Uh, I'm sore."

"Sore?" Worry squeezes my chest. My guts churn. "Was I too rough with you? Did I not give you enough time to recover? I should have waited, before I fucked you again."

"What? No. What are you talking about? I wanted you to fuck me."

"And I listened to you; I shouldn't have."

I lean forward and survey her features. Flushed cheeks, over-bright eyes, and there are shadows under them too. Also, her cheekbones seem pronounced. "You seem tired. Did you sleep enough last night.?"

She hesitates. "I didn't, but I'm sure I'll make up for it over the next few nights."

"Don't count on it," I drawl.

She flushes, then laughs. And when her features light up and her eyes dance, I feel my heart stutter. That sensation in my chest grows bigger until it fills my torso and spreads to my extremities. I feel light and happy and exhilarated. I also feel... nervous. I'm in so much trouble.

I tear my gaze away from her face, refill her glass with water and slide it toward her. "Drink," I order.

She obeys, and satisfaction squeezes my chest. My blood begins to pump harder. The crotch of my pants tightens further. I berate my cock. How can I be only thinking of myself right now?

It's my fault she didn't get enough rest. My fault that I took her so quickly after her first time. What is wrong with me? I should have realized my needs, my kinks, my overblown sexual appetites would be too much for her. She's a delicate angel. And me? I don't deserve her. This is what I was afraid of—that I'd make demands and she‘d never say no. She's a novice who's discovered her taste for kink, thanks to me. I've sullied her, as I knew I would. The fact that I'm in love with her has complicated things.

I thought I didn't need to hold back with her, but given how I took her again, when she was sore, and so soon after losing her virginity, proves otherwise. I should have stopped and given her space to recover but I didn't. I saw her wince and should have pulled back. Instead, I allowed my dick to lead me. That, and the fact I listened to her, shows me how wrong I am. She doesn't know what she wants. It's my job to protect her, even if it's from me. Because when it comes down to it, nothing changes the fact that she's this delicate angel, and I'm a beast who can only destroy her.

"Knox?" Her sweet voice interrupts my thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"You're not eating enough," I shoot back.

A line forms between her eyebrows. "What is it with you and food?" She tosses her head." Every time I turn around, you're trying to feed me."

"You're losing weight." I frown.

"Good," she huffs.

"It's not good. I like your curves the way they are, and don't want to see you withering away."

"Withering away?" She rolls her eyes, "You're exaggerating."

"I'm not." The anger lurches against the walls of my stomach. The burn extends from there to my chest, to the backs of my eyes. I can't do this. I can't besmirch her. I can't dirty her. I can't control myself around her... Certainly not, when we're away in this romantic getaway, on our honeymoon. I need to get us back to London where I can hide behind the guise of work, at least.

She must sense my thoughts, for she leans forward and touches my hand. I pull it away. Hurt flashes in her eyes, and that makes me feel worse. Fucking hell, I have no tact. None at all. I'm not worthy of her. And if I value her in any way, if I want to stick to my marital vows of protecting her, I need to put distance between us.

"Everything okay?" She frowns.

"It will be." I'm going to make sure it's okay. "Eat up; we need to get going."