Page 150 of Mine to Worship

Thirty minutes later, Robert is sentenced to twenty years in federal prison. And I hold my head high while the other women and I smile at justice being served. A weight has dropped off my shoulders and hand in hand with my husband, we step inside the car.

I’m in our bedroom, applying red lipstick, preparing for a night out. Kian steps outside the walk-in closet, dressed in a custom-made black suit, looking forbiddingly good. His eyes heat my back, and he tests the straps holding the material of my black dress.

Our eyes meet and he plucks a box from his suit jacket. A diamond necklace with a heart in the shape of a lock and the key where an R is stamped. I pat it and smile.

“Making a statement?”

“I like to put my name on you.”

He grins and extends his hand.

We join the others in the club downstairs.

Today has been a win for all of us, and we’re celebrating. My parents are babysitting our girl while we occupy the VIP section at R.

“You look so damn sexy,” Kian growls.

Confidence runs through my veins, his hungry eyes boosting it even further, his fingers skimming up the slit to my thigh.

I wrap my arms around his neck and say, “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Do I ever take a break from it,” he says, a brow raised in seriousness.

A chuckle escapes my lips and I lean into him and say in his ear, “I heard this hotel has some really amazing rooms, all about experiencing various themes and stuff like that.”

“Hmm, it’s good that I know the owner.”

“Can you tell him to fetch us a key, then? I’d like to experience the jungle theme. I’d like to see a wild animal unleashed.”

“Fuck, angel, I am crazy about you,” he says and grabs my hand.

“Hey, you can’t ditch your own party,” Aubrey complains.

“Watch us,” Kian replies and we laugh as we run toward the hallway.

In front of the elevator, he thumps his feet on the floor, patience running out. His fingers slide down my exposed spine. The elevator dings open, and he grips my hips, backing me into the wall, crashing his lips on mine.

“I want you naked and spread out on the bed one second after we enter the room,” he says with barely contained lust and I love it. Anticipation rolls down my spine and I bite down on my lower lip.

“Someone is bossy tonight.”

“No, hard as fuck, and it’s your fault when you sway your hips for one hour straight against my dick.”

“Did I?” I bat my lashes in fake innocence, brushing invisible lint from his shirt.

“Oh, angel,” he says, his deep, and husky voice commanding goosebumps to break out on my skin.

We tumble down the corridor, and he slides the key in. The door gives way and he slams it shut behind us. He yanks my dress off, and I get on the bed, wearing only the necklace, black lingerie, and heels. Under his adoring and heated gaze, I feel beautiful, confident. I spread my legs for him, and he crawls between them. I put my heel against his chest.

He raises a brow at me, his hand curling around my ankle.

“Tonight, I want you to fuck me. No holding back. As if I am made just for you, to please you, yours to play with, to take me how you want.”

His hand cups my neck, and he drags me to him, my heart beating a wild rhythm against my chest. “You are those, too. Wife, mother of my child, my partner, my lover, but above all, you’re fucking mine.”

He slams his lips on mine and unclasps the bra. At my naked breasts he lets out a stuttered breath and they swell even more. He bites my nipples, and pleasure shoots through my core, then sucks on them to ease the sting. I am a pulsing, needing, wet mess.

I missed this, him truly letting go.

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