Page 119 of The Unplanned Wedding

All the sensations coalesce in my core and build up until it reaches my chest. And when he tears his mouth from mine and growls, "Come," I instantly shatter. The world goes dark. I’m dimly aware of his low groan as he comes inside me. Of the warmth of his release filling me. Of him continuing to fuck me with his dick and the vibrator until a second orgasm builds in my lower belly.NO way. Again?

My eyelids flutter open, but before I can protest, the climax washes over me, gentler than the first, but even more intense, for he’s kissing me again, and looking into my eyes. And it’s so profound. Soeverything. I’m filled with him, and surrounded by him, and weighed down by him. I’m subsumed by him. I’m his, in every sense of the word. And then the blackness overpowers me.

When I open my eyes, he’s holding me in his arms. I’m laid out on top of him, while he’s on his back. It’s quiet because he switched off the vibrator,which is no longer inside me. He also untied the bindings around my ankles. My cheek is pressed into his chest, and I can hear the boom-boom-boom of his heart as it bangs into his ribcage. It’s so reassuring to know I’m not the only one affected by what happened. I turn my face into his chest and kiss him. I taste the salt of sweat on his skin, smell the scent of sex that clings to his pores, and shiver in response.

His arms around me tighten. "Cold?"

I shake my head. "Overwhelmed."

He dips his head and kisses the top of mine. "You were incredible. You allowed me to push you at every stage and matched me step-for-step. You never backed down and opened yourself up completely. You humble me, baby."

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. It’s silly wanting to cry, but his praise is so incredible. It fills me, heals me, and swells my heart with so much warmth, I’m sure it’s going to burst. I press my lips to his chest again, as the tears drip down my cheeks.

"Hey." He flips me over on my back. Balancing his weight on his arms, he looks at me closely. "Did I hurt you? Did I push you beyond your limits?" Worry shadows his eyes.

"No." I swallow down the emotions bubbling inside me. I have this ridiculous urge to cry, which is strange. Why should I feel so undone? But it's like he’s given me permission to allow things I bottled up inside to be unleashed.

"It’s okay." He cups my cheek and kisses my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my mouth. "It’s okay to let it all out."

More tears flow down my face, and I don’t try to stop them. I allow myself to be held by my husband and soothed by my master as I cry for things I didn't dare acknowledge until now. About how the very act of being given up by my mother left me with a primal wound I’ve spent my entire life trying to come to terms with.

How with every foster family I was bundled off to I tried to fit in, and in doing so, never felt free to be myself. How I could never give myself permission to stay in the moment. How abandoned I felt all through my childhood, until Irene adopted me; and how, even after that, I carried the burden of feeling like I had to be grateful to her. How despite her best efforts in trying to give me a home, it felt like a part of me was missing.How lost I felt, like I was always searching for something. How I never found the space to mourn everything I'd lost. How that loss hit me anew when I met my birth mother, and that brought all of my grief to the fore again. How, in his arms, I have the space to let go, for the first time in my life. How the relief of submitting to him completely means I’m in a vulnerable enough space for the dam to break open.

I sob silently, then with more abandon, as he holds me. As he pulls me in and rolls onto his back, stroking my head and murmuring encouraging words. And when I’m done crying and spent, he rocks me to sleep.

When I open my eyes again, it’s morning and he’s still holding me. I look up into his face, take in the growth of whiskers on his jaw, his slightly parted lips, the scars on his cheek which only add to his vulnerability. His long lashes graze his cheeks as he slumbers. I reach up and touch his scarred cheek, tracing the curve of the puckered flesh up to his temple.

His eyelids flutter, and his bright blue eyes stare down at me. He’s awake instantly—thanks to his military training. His arms around me tighten, then one side of his lips hitches up. "Good morning, wife."

EPILOGUE

Three months later

June

"Do I look okay?" I glance sideways at my husband.

A month ago, we’d moved into a gorgeous townhouse in Primrose Hill. It's the same area where Quentin and Nathan have their homes. As do Sinclair and Summer Sterling. It’s nice to be surrounded by friends and family, and this place feels much more like home. As for my apartment I’d offered it to a charity that works with adoptive families, so they could rent it out to those most-in-need.

Without waiting for my husband’s response, I turn toward my reflection in the mirror. The dress I’m wearing falls below my knees. Its sleeves flow down my arms to wrap around my wrists. The neckline is modest, the color dark pink. It sets off the flush on my cheeks and the deep rose lipstick I’ve painted across my mouth. I fusswith my hair, then turn and take in my silhouette. "I feel like I’m already showing. I can’t be, can I?” I groan.

"You look perfect." My husband steps up and wraps his arm about my thickening waist.

Yes, I was on birth control. But apparently, that was no match for my husband’s super sperm. I’d never tell him that because that would only go to his head. I have a sneaky suspicion I became pregnant that first night at the Cumbria home. Or it might have been the next night, or the night after that, or during the next few days, when we proceeded to christen every single surface in that house. And quite a few objects in that space were used, as well, in some interesting ways. Good thing, it’s our place and no one else in the family is interested in using it. Because, I have to tell you, it wouldn’t be hygienic for them to use that house after our activities. We were there for a week, and it was an amazing break. We returned reluctantly, and only because there were a spate of emergencies Knox was unable to manage remotely.

When I showed Knox the results of the pregnancy test a month ago, he turned so white, I was sure he’d faint. Then he’d whooped, and scooped me up, and proceeded to kiss me until I was breathless.

And since then, he hasn’t let me out of his sight. I’d already decided to leave my job at Davenport industries by then, so becoming pregnant simply spurred me to accelerate my decision. I decided to join forces with my adoption search specialist and expand the services we could offer to both adopters and adoptees.

As Knox’s wife, I have a monthly allowance from the Davenport family trust fund. Apparently, I’m a beneficiary because I married into the family. At first, it didn’t feel right to accept it, until Knox pointed out I'm entitled to it, and I can use the money to further my own causes. Which is when I approached my adoption search specialist and asked if I could become a partner with her. Turns out, she was looking for someone to bring in fresh equity, and I'm that person.

We're formulating our roles and responsibilities, but it's so exciting. For the first time in my life, I have a sense that I'm building someone of my own. We're also building our own family.

Knox bends and presses his cheek against mine, "You look gorgeous."

"You’re biased."

"And rightly so. You make me feel like the luckiest man alive."

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