Without Remorse

This, feeling it for real—a hand other than her own landing on her ass and those fingers of his—

He strummed and tugged back against her g-spot and she mewled in pleasure again, grasping at the fabric of his slacks in need of something to ground her.

“That’s right, kitten,” he said, tugging her jeans the rest of the way off as aftershocks still spasmed through her body.

And then he lifted her by her waist, again as if she weighed nothing. Her world tilted as he lifted her right-side up and settled her on top of him, straddling him—and his waiting cock. Her legs folded on either side of him and she grasped his shoulders, still blinking in shock at everything that had happened in the last ten minutes since she’d come in through the door.

And then he was filling her, claiming her with his giant cock as he settled her down on himself.

There was nowhere else to look but into those dark eyes of his, hard with concentration as he filled her. She was still so sensitive, every nerve-ending felt lit on fire as she clutched onto his shaft with her muscles. The slow slide inside as she settled on him so that he was sheathed up to the hilt inside her—oh God, how had they waited all this time to do this again?

And at the same time, it was so— Her feelings were bunching up inside her until they wanted to overflow but she couldn’t— She didn’t know what she was feeling, just that it was a lot, so much, and she couldn’t sort one feeling out from another—

She tried to duck her face into Nicholas’s chest but he didn’t let her. Instead he took her face, cradled it in one hand, and kissed her deep as he began pumping up and down, in and out of her.

She cried out into his mouth and he took the opportunity of her lips opening to plunge his tongue inside.

And then she was lost to him, all her defenses down, gone, blasted away.

She entwined her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She poured all the emotion she couldn’t express or name into that kiss. She dragged her nails through his hair and moved her hips in time with his.

Until they both came in a panting, heaving, mess of tongues and bodies and oh—

Afterwards, she sat there, every bit of her still entwined with Nicholas…with her husband, and blinked, wondering, what the hell did I just do?

And at the same time, she wanted to do it all over again. But he’d… spanked her. Punished her. As if she were a child. She frowned and tried to pull away from him.

He didn’t let her. “No, we aren’t going backwards. No more silent treatment.”

She shook her head at him, but she looked him in the eye. “I’m not a dog who has to obey her master.”

He nodded slowly. “How about this? All I’m asking is that you talk to me first next time. There are rules to this life and dangers you might not foresee. How can I protect you if I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“What dangers are there from getting a job and working in the bakery?” She drew one arm between them to cover her breasts. “Because Jesus, if I stay locked up in this room 24/7, I’ll go nuts.”

His nostrils flared and she almost backed away but he kept his cool. “I can see that. I want a good life for you, whether you believe it or not. I always thought I could give you that or I never would have brought—”

He sighed and rolled backwards, lifting his arm behind his head and sighing out long and loud. “But maybe I was letting myself be intentionally blind to the dangers because—”

Sloane frowned. “Because what?”

He slid his eyes over to her, and they burned with the intensity they’d had during their lovemaking. “Because I wanted you so damn much.”

Sloane’s belly flipped. He wanted her… She frowned. Did that mean he wanted her just like all the other men wanted her? They wanted to fuck her so they said they loved her and wanted to marry her—

But he’d never pressed for sex. Was he just more patient than the others? “What does that mean, that you want me?”

He rolled back over to her. “It means I want you as my wife. I want to come home to you. I want you as my…” he hesitated before finally saying the last word, even though he looked a little embarrassed, “my family.”

Goddamn this man. Goddamn him for saying the one perfect thing that could crack the armor she was trying to shield her heart with. She wanted to deny him. But he was offering the one thing she thought she’d never have again.

Family. With someone who wanted her—the real her, not the fantasy version she portrayed to the camera. Her with all her fucked-up freakiness and moodiness and silent treatment and—