This time, there was no rush to sign papers. There was no hurry at all, only the gentle rock of the boat. And there were better vows.
“I promise to partner with you in all things,” Kyril promised her as a street musician hired for the evening played a tune that made his heart swell. They’d spent half an hour together writing new vows simply because she’d wanted to. How could he deny her anything?
The captain finished the vows with simple words. “It is a blessing, in this world, to have a partner to sail through life with. Have you brought rings to mark this blessing?”
They had.
It was Hannah’s turn first. He slipped her ring onto her finger.
“You’ll have to take your other ring off, Sheikh Kyril,” reminded the captain.
He hesitated. The signet ring was a powerful reminder of his responsibility to everyone under his care. The gold contained the ashes of a fire, a grim memento of the biggest mistake of his life—a life nearly lost and a hard lesson learned. Kyril could never let down his guard or people could get hurt.
But he looked down into Hannah’s eyes, and it hit him. This new ring was simply an extension of that responsibility, expanded by the weight of his love for her and their unborn baby. When she slipped the band onto his finger, it felt as if he’d always worn it, despite its differences from the signet ring now on his opposite hand.
His thoughts raced back, one more time, to the night that had taught him what it meant to be a man, but Hannah’s lips on his, soft and yielding, brought him firmly back to the present.
“Now we celebrate,” she said into his mouth. “It’s our wedding night.”
* * *
Hannah felt sultry as the dress dropped to the floor, revealing the matching bra and panty set she’d purchased along with it. The air in their suite was charged somehow. It was supposed to be a practical wedding, nothing more, but the way Kyril looked at her was full of love.
And lust.
“Hannah,” he said softly, and she felt the depth of that love in the sound of her name. “Come to bed.”
She ignored him as she reached behind her back to unhook the bra. Wrapping her arms around her breasts, she pulled the bra slowly free before dropping it on top of her dress. Stepping out of the circle of fabric, she turned before bending to retrieve the bra and dress from the floor. With her back turned, she didn't have to hide her smile at Kyril's moan of approval.
"Hannah!" This time when he said it, there was a note of desperation in his face and she chuckled.
“I’ll come to bed when I want to,” she said defiantly. She slipped her thumbs under the waistband of her thong and slid it down to her feet before stepping out of it. She looked up in time to see Kyril palming his erection, a look of misery on his face.
"Hannah" His tone turned cajoling as he gave her that grin—oh, that grin—she couldn’t resist. Climbing onto the foot of the bed, she crawled slowly toward him, watching as his eyes dilated as his passion grew. Kneeling next to him, the range of emotions flitting across his face was almost unnerving because they were all for her.
Reaching out to cup her face in his hands, Kyril was careful with her…for a moment. He kissed her softly, as if the wedding had transformed her into a delicate object despite the striptease she'd given him and his gratifying arousal.
That didn’t last.
When she crushed her mouth against his, he growled, his body moving against hers like a bolt of lightning. This—was different. He handled her, moving her so that she straddled him, the head of
his cock sliding against her folds in a delightful, tortuous tease. Hannah, out of patience for his torment, dug her fingernails into his chest and thrust her hips downward, taking him inside.
“Yes,” hissed Kyril, his hands gripping her hips tightly, dragging her hips back and forth. His eyes burned into her, and despite the fact that she was on top, Hannah felt small. She felt his power. It had been unleashed by the wedding ceremony.
Kyril possessed her now in a way she hadn’t expected, driving deeper with every thrust. She gave an experimental push against his chest and he pinned her hips against his, his grip unforgiving.
Her desire wound like a spring inside her, a tension that demanded to be released. She swirled her hips to the rhythm of Kyril’s thrusts, coaxing a low groan from his mouth and forcing his cock against the rough spot inside of her that drove her wild.
One thrust, two, three—and Hannah couldn’t withstand the pleasure anymore.
She came hard, crying out, and Kyril made her ride him all the way down from her climax, his cock pulsing inside of her. Her orgasm was so strong it pushed her right out of her body, out of her mind, and when she came back to herself she realized her eyes were squeezed shut.
When she opened her eyes, Kyril’s looked into hers, a sheen across them she’d never seen before.
“You’re mine,” he told her, and she knew, for the first time, how true it really was.
They tumbled back into the sheets, and despite her insistence on freedom, she found herself clinging to him in the dark, unwilling to put even an inch between them.