Page 199 of Making Choices

Cherub’s hand flutters down to the top of my head.

It’s a ghost of a touch.

It’s enough.

For now.

I capture her wrists and pull her to her knees in front of me. She gasps, then rallies fast. Her hands slide around my waist as I kiss her, and she nips at my empty bottom lip with her teeth in silent protest when I end our connection. Collaring her throat, I hold Cherub still as I tell her, “I’m gonna make love to you. Fuck the wedding—it can wait. Fuck the Trinity—they don’t get our first time.”

“Okay.”

Leaning my forehead against Cherub’s, I peer deep in her eyes. “You’re on board with this?”

“My head is rebelling—all the reasons why this is wrong are trying to paralyse me,” she confesses with a sharp nod that contradicts her words. “But my heart is all in.”

“Good… ’cause this is happenin’. No more half-truths. No more dodgin’ reality. You’re mine.”

When she doesn’t object, I gently manoeuvre her onto her back on the blankets. My hands shake as I unclasp the straps of her stilettos from around her ankles. After removing her footwear, left then right, I skim my hands along her legs. Over her knees, past the surgery scars, I grip the front of Cherub’s thighs as I expose the creamy skin of her lower belly to my gaze. The oversized skirt is pushed up around her waist, the wisp of white lace that hides her pussy from my sight a tease. I shuffle forward on my knees so I’m between her legs and look down at her with every ounce of love I feel in my eyes.

“This is gonna be fast, and it’s gonna be messy. I’m not gonna undress you. I’m not gonna come close to takin’ my fill of your perfect body, but I am gonna make you mine.” My duchess shudders as I run my fingertips along the soft skin at the edge of her panties. “You’re walkin’ up that aisle with my cum runnin’ down your leg. When we pledge ourselves to each other for the Trinity’s amusement, we’ll smile each other wide and play the game, because that’s all it is.”

“Carter,” Cherub breathes my name like a vow as I lightly pinch her clit though the lace. Her hips buck and she shudders. “This is—”

“Exactly what we need. This is our ritual—our secret. We married in private, duchess, and we’ll seal our union in private, too.” Pressing my middle finger inside her body, I allow my eyelids to flutter shut as I take in the feel of her wet heat gripping me. I slide in and out, my thumb on her clit as I prepare her for me. “Everythin’ they get is for show. This is ours.”

Looming over her, I use my hand to work her body into a frenzy while I claim her mouth with mine. It takes her head a moment to get on board with what I’m doing, but when she does, the change in her is a marvel. Cherub’s hands cup my nape, then she tangles her fingers in my hair. She tugs and pulls, scratches her nails over my scalp. Sets off goosebumps on my skin with her touch.

My entire body pulses as I bask in her attention.

She doesn’t stray below my shoulders, yet it feels like she’s everywhere.

I rejoice in my decision to flip the Trinity a metaphorical middle finger by wearing my hair down for the ceremony. They’d wanted me to cut my hair, remove my piercings, marry my duchess in a suit without my cut in sight.

To play the part...

I gave them almost everything they demanded.

Except one thing.

My hair is mine.

Inexplicably wrapped up in the woman I’m pushing toward breaking point.

She’s always loved my long locks. Touching them. Brushing them. So many of our private moments have occurred because of my hair. My entire look is modelled after a single comment she made as a twelve-year-old. The man bun. The decision to remain relatively cleanskin while everyone else tatted themselves up.

All I’ve ever wanted is to stand out to her.

So, I paid attention to her preferences, and I moulded myself to her taste.

And it’s finally paid off in spades.

Breathing Cherub in, stealing taste after taste of her mouth, I finger fuck my wife to climax. I swallow her gasps of her pleasure. Absorb the sounds of her lust in my soul. Imprint the sight of her flushed face on my psyche. Capture the memory of this moment in my heart.

“Holy hell,” she whispers as aftershocks ripple through her. When I shuck my suit jacket and shirt, Cherub runs her gaze over my upper body. “No man should be as beautiful as you are.”

The way she easily compliments my looks makes Venom’s comment pop back into my head. He accused me of having everything. Looks, book smarts, and a loving family. He wasn’t wrong, but he has deluded himself if he can’t see that he’s always been richer than me in so many other ways. He’s publicly held my duchess’ heart since the day she was born. I’ve spent my life in his shadow, praying for her to look past him, hoping she’d see me.

And now that she has... I’m reborn.

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