Page 72 of Kissed By Shadows

IRIS

After my promised orgasm in the shower, I walk out of Hunt’s bathroom to find a pair of my period pants, some soft leggings, a vest, and one of Rowan’s hoodies that smells so delicious I can’t help snuggling into the soft fabric. Roman grumbles as he kisses me on the cheek and leaves the room, something about Rowan having more game than he has any right to.

Smiling like a loon, I get dressed and follow the smell of bacon, finding Hunt and Rowan in the kitchen. Rowan is just pouring the contents of the kettle into a hot water bottle, and once he’s screwed the cap on, he heads towards me as I settle on a stool at the island.

“Have something to eat, then you can take some painkillers,” he instructs as he places the warm bottle over my stomach.His fingers brush over the hoodie I’m wearing, his hoodie, that irresistible half smile playing on his plush lips.

“Yes, sir,” I tease, a contented sigh escaping me as the heat feels like a cuddle directly to my womb. Row’s nostrils flare, his pupils widening as he stares at me with a singular focus that has my core clenching, and not with a cramp.

“I like you calling me that, Little Lamb,” he confesses softly, leaning down until his lips are right next to my ear. “But I think I’d prefer Master, especially when I tie you up and mark all that pretty skin with my blades.”

All the breath rushes out of me, a fire filling my veins at his words. New. Kink. Unlocked.

“Why the fuck does she need painkillers?” Hunt growls out, placing a plate of pancakes, bacon, and maple syrup in front of me.Fucking yum!His brows are drawn low as he looks me over, and I can’t help the scoff that leaves my lips as I grab my knife and fork.

“Probably because pulling out my coil last night triggered my period, and cramps are a bitch.” The last part leaves my lips on a hiss as a cramp tightens my insides, my fists clenching around the cutlery I reached for when he set the plate down.

His cheeks flush, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Do you need anything? Willow used to eat her weight in chocolate, I could get some for you if you’d like?”

He’s so earnest that my heart melts and tears sting my eyes. Stupid fucking hormones, I’m always more emotional when I’m on my period.

“Dark chocolate with sea salt please,” I ask, and he gives me a nod from the other side of the counter, then pulls out his phone and starts tapping away at the screen.

“Eat,” he commands while still looking at his phone, and I bite my bottom lip to hide the goofy smile that wants to spread them. I know that maybe in this day and age of feminism, Ishould bulk at being told what to do, but a part of me loves that he notices when I need something and makes sure that I’m taking care of myself.

I make small noises of appreciation as I eat my breakfast, Rowan sitting down next to me, watching me as I inhale the food. I’m almost finished when Roman saunters in, coming to sit on my other side, his hand landing on my thigh. Hunt places a plate of food in front of him, dropping some painkillers in front of me and setting down a glass of what I know is freshly squeezed juice because it’s Hunt and he’s anal about fresh vitamins. I give him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I say softly, and his lips quirk even as his pupils blow a little. I love having that effect on him, that my words can affect him just the way his often turn me into a puddle of girl goo. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

Hunt’s piercing green eyes hold my stare for a moment, and I let myself get lost in their swirling depths. “Well, if you’re feeling up to it, it’s the first craft club session.”

“I completely forgot!” I exclaim, a smile pulling my lips upwards as I reach for the painkillers and the glass. “And it’s just my period, of course I’m up to it.”

“It’s okay if you want to postpone, you don’t have to push through if you need to rest, petal,” Roman tells me, and when I turn to glance at him, I can see the genuine concern in his eyes. It’s not that he thinks I’m incapable, it’s that he understands periods are shit and sometimes you might just need to curl up in a ball and wallow in self-pity while eating all the junk food you can find. At least, that’s what I’m assuming he’s thinking, I may be projecting a tad.

“Honestly, I’m fine, and once these painkillers kick in, I’ll be right as rain,” I assure him, taking the drugs. “What time do we need to be there? Did all the stuff arrive? We’ll have to set up, and make some snack?—”

“It’s all been taken care of, Peaches,” Hunt interrupts, amusement glinting in his eyes. “And it starts at two, so you have a couple of hours before everyone arrives.”

I glance at the clock to find that I’ve just eaten lunch, not breakfast, as it’s half past midday. Hunt opens the oven, and the most delicious smell of freshly baked cookies fills the kitchen.

I lick my lips, watching and practically salivating as he pulls out a tray and moves them to a cooling rack, then places another tray inside the oven.

“I’m going to need some of those,” I blurt out, and his masculine laugh does terrible things to Evangeline.

“I’ll make extra. I’m guessing chunky chocolate chip are your favourite?” He slings the tea towel he was using to protect his hand from the heat over his shoulder, and that has no right to be so sexy, but my hormones missed the memo because I’m definitely all hot and bothered. “If you keep looking at me like that, Peaches, this next batch will get burnt.”

My wide eyes snap to his, his large arms crossed over his chest as he stares at me with a slightly feral look in those green eyes of his.

“Sorry,” I mumble, my cheeks heating as I lower my gaze. I squeak when my stool is spun, firm fingers gripping my chin and lifting my gaze back up. Swirling green fills my vision, and damn Hunt for having such pretty eyes.

“Never apologise for wanting me, wife,” he says, and my heart skips a beat at the fact I am his wife, that we’re married. He says the words so gently, at odds with his firm hold of me. I swallow, my mouth dry when he leans in, his lips hovering just over mine. “I am yours whenever you want, whenever you need, and I will gladly let those fucking cookies burn if it means I get to be inside you again.”

He doesn’t let me answer, just closes the tiny distance between us, and I moan when his lips touch mine. They’reso soft, so contradictory with the hard man they belong to. I sink into his kiss, which starts off slow, almost teasing until I whimper, and then it’s like something inside him snaps. He pushes between my thighs, his tongue forcing its way inside my mouth with a demand that I don’t even bother to try and ignore. Hunt kisses the shit out of me, decimating me with his lips and tongue until I can barely breathe, my hands clawing at his T-shirt, desperate to feel his skin beneath my fingertips.

Just as I draw my fingers down to slip underneath his soft vest, he abruptly pulls away, and a sound of protest falls from my abused and swollen lips, but the fucker just chuckles.

“Why don’t you three head to the centre and I’ll follow with the cookies?” he suggests, but it’s definitely more of an order. His eyes are fixed on mine, his chest heaving, and I can't help letting my gaze dip down to find his obscenely hard dick tenting his sweatpants. Serves him right.

---