Mrs. Bates stood beside our bed and spoke to me in her rolling Irish lilt, “Thomas and the other lads are waiting in the kitchen. He says you must get up, that you and the countess have important plans this morning.”
We had arrived home late the night before, after the armed command finished searching our car.
I helped my wife in from the car, and we went straight to our bedroom. She quickly fell asleep with the side of her face resting on my chest, her long hair blanketing parts of us both. I couldn’t sleep, so I monitored her breathing and fought the urge to slip out into the night to track down the motherfucker who had dared to place his baton between my legs. The officer who had patted me down had no idea what kind of enemy he’d created for himself by delivering Devon Parker’s threat to my wife.
Anger punched me in the gut, reminding me who I was, showing me that my father’s purpose for me would never change, no matter how hard I tried to be a different man. It was a madness. It encouraged me to leave Elle alone in our bed for the hunt, to make another kill to secure our future.
She had been panic-stricken out on that street, though she’d tried to hide it from me. Nothing was stronger than my determination to protect my angel when she was upset, so I stayed with her in our bed. My brain finally shut down at the break of dawn, and I fell asleep after pulling Elle’s backside tightly against my body. She rolled from my chest onto her side, which was her tell when she found peaceful rest—a sign that she was clear of the nightmares.
Mrs. Bates mumbled to herself, waiting for my response as she pretended to clean the bedside table.
I quickly pulled the sheet above my waist to cover my naked body.
Mrs. Bates was a fixture in both homes, caring for my wife as she might care for her own daughter. She was focused and task-oriented and never seemed to notice things like that, or if she did, she didn’t let it show or didn’t care. I supposed she had known before taking us on that she would encounter nudity in our bedroom, given it was the only place we found privacy from the rest of the world.
Elle and I had accepted that a sense of danger and urgency would often take over parts of our life together. Our peace was limited to small fragments of time in between, and our bed was our sanctuary.
“Thomas is quite right, Mrs. Bates. What time is it?” I rubbed my eyes as she opened the draperies, letting the scarce sunshine beat against the windowpanes to wake up Elle.
“It’s quarter to nine.”
“Christ, we overslept.” I sat up. “I’ll ring Sean and have the commissioner sent here.”
“I brought some breakfast up with me, dear,” she said to Elle, handing me my mobile phone from the table. “I’ll fetch the tray from the landing, so you can get started on your coffee and toast.”
“I don’t want to get up,” Elle grumbled. She hadn’t bothered to open her eyes.
“We’re supposed to see Commissioner Brown at ten this morning, baby.”
Her pretty arse was there next to my hand, mine for the taking. I watched Mrs. Bates exit the room and then slid my hand along the curve of her bottom.
As Elle complained about the appointment time, she pushed back into my hand for a firmer touch.
Resentful as fuck because I couldn’t have her right then, I found some pajama bottoms on the floor and hit the toilet. When I came back out, Elle was sitting up with her knees pulled to her chest beneath the sheet, sipping coffee. There was a smear of raspberry jam at the corner of her mouth. Her hair was a wild mess.
She is so beautiful. I need her.
Elle smiled. “Stop staring and come eat the fried eggs Mrs. Bates carried up for you.”
I prowled on my hands and knees from the foot of the bed to get to her. “Here, let me see. You have something on your face.”
She lifted her face to mine. I feigned wiping away the jam with my thumb and then licked it off of her face.
“It’s quite good. Give me some more.”
Elle set her coffee aside on the bedside table and dipped her finger into the pot. She painted her bottom lip with the jam. I sucked on it, the jam, her lips.
“More,” I ordered.
When she pulled her jam-covered finger out again, she hesitated, holding it upright without touching anything. “Tell me, Will, where do you want it this time?” Her voice was sensual and a little hoarse. She hit me with a playful, turned-on smile from beneath her lashes.
“I’ll show you what I want.”
I pulled the sheet away from her bare body and couldn’t help but gape for a minute before I dragged her finger over her skin to her pebbled nipple, circling it, making it harder. She hissed and arched her back. Christ, she was touching herself, and it was so beautiful to watch. When I lifted her finger away from her breast, she groaned.
“More. Please, Will. Do it again.”
I smirked and grabbed the jam. “I’m hungry, baby. More.”
She curved two fingers and scooped more jam from the little crock. I placed them on her other nipple and watched her circle it and arch again, and then I dragged her two fingers down along her abdomen and pressed them to her clit. She cried out.
“Don’t come, Elle. Not without me.” I pushed back and settled my weight on my heels as I watched her work the raspberry jam round her clit. I stroked my throbbing cock and watched her pant and writhe in pleasure. Then, I stopped her, stopped us both. “Grip the pillow above your head.”
She resisted. “Will, I need to come, now.”
I took hold of her wrists. “I said stop. You’ll do as you’re told, angel—or you’ll get nothing at all.”
Her eyes widened, her lips parted for a rush of breath, and she submitted to my command with a nod.
I was demanding more of her in bed, as she had asked, acknowledging that she was indeed not breakable, though I’d never thought of her that way. When I looked at my wife, I saw strength, determination, compassion. If she needed proof, I would demonstrate for her, but it would be done my way. That meant I would never smack her arse again.
“Good girl,” I said against her skin, my mouth devouring the sweet berries on her stomach. I drew my tongue upward along the red streak she’d painted for me until I reached her hardened nipples. I sucked them both, drawing each tightly between my teeth and pulling before releasing them to give her the sharp sensation of erotic pain.
She writhed and moaned each time, arching into the slight sting. “Oh God,” she cried.
“There is no God, angel. There’s only me. And you are mine.” I placed tender kisses on her nipples and blew to change the sensation to one without the promise of pain.
“You are my god,” she said as I dragged my mouth to her neck.
Her words made my erection kick out against her body and my heart pound faster in my chest. I loved her beyond words. I was obsessed with her, obsessed with how she wanted me. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed because she was everything.
“I need you, Will. Please don’t let rage tear us apart again. I can’t survive without you.”
I abruptly lifted my head to meet her eyes. She knew. She’d picked up on it the night before when she saw my face through the car window, when she’d pressed her hand to the glass and said she loved me.
“Never, Elle. I promise. Help me keep it straight.”
She brought her hands down from the pillow to my face. “We can beat it together.”
I kissed her, taking her mouth with such brutal fucking force that she had to push my face away from hers. “I’m sorry,” I breathed onto her skin, and then I kissed her again with as much tenderness as I could gather.
I was desperate to be inside her, for her light to chase away the dark in me.
“I’m going to make you come hard, Elle.”
“Are you going to fuck the hell out of me?”
I smirked and pressed my rock-hard cock against her body. Christ. “Remember, I’m quite a lot bigger than you, baby. You sure that’s what you want, to be fucked until you collapse?”
“I definitely want that. You, behind me.”
A rumble hit the back of my throat, and I summoned the strength to put a soft kiss on her lips.
“If that’s what you want, Elle. You know the rules. Hands above your head. I need to prepare you to take me that way. I believe you left some of my breakfast between your legs, so I’ll start there.”