Page 95 of Married to the Devil

And I’m not alone. Ben removes his suit coat and places it on the piano before approaching to lean against the bed post, his eyes as dark as I’ve ever seen them. He’s still so buttoned up, but his dress shirt stretches across his chest with each fierce breath. His body is strung tight with the seductive energy that spinning among the three of us.

We’re doing this. There are no doubts I’m willing to hear.

“I want it,” I say.

Stoneheart’s nostrils flare, and the chain snaps. I gasp, but the bite of the metal pulling my skin is gone as soon as it begins. He takes a step back and places the broken chain and medallion in his kilt pocket, claiming it.

“Then you’ll have no problem saying exactly what you’re asking for,” he says.

I blink in surprise. “What?”

My husband’s expression is dangerous. The greed there twists something low in my core.

Stoneheart arches a brow. “Ask us to kindly take advantage of your sweet slickness and breed you.”

My mouth drops open. “You’re going to make me beg for this?”

“I’m going to make you do what you enjoy most.” And the knowing look he gives me makes me want to snarl.

My cheeks burn at his assertion.Asshole!As if this plan isn’t exactly what we need. As if I’m not doing him a favor at all.

The anger falters as quickly as it flashes because this isn’t me doing a favor for him. This is us working together. Yes, a baby will stabilize the territory, but it’s also something uniquely mine that he is giving me.

But the satisfaction crinkling the corners of his eyes is telling. He’s going to want more than just my begging, and I’m going to want to give more. To submit. It’s my natural state around him. But it’s also a vulnerability.

As if reading my mind as much as my body, my husband invades my space, his wings rising, touching me with shadow and nothing else. Instead of haughty lust, his expression is one of understanding even as his words are hard.

“This is the cost for your request. By the end of this, I will own you whether you agree or not.”

I rock back on my heels, the words running over my skin like foreplay. Unlike when he mentioned owning me in the town car, I have more clarity. Stoneheart will never discard me. I’m more than an object to him. Just because I don’t have his heart, doesn’t mean I don’t own him as much as he wants to claim me.

The decision is whether I trust him… which I do.

And in that trust is understanding.

He needs this game, the rules it offers, the distance.

I need it too, for different reasons. I don’t want to resist this pull anymore. And if I’m diving into the deep end, I want it to be on my terms.

I lift my chin, taking in Stoneheart and Ben as I reach behind me and unzip my dress. I tug the fabric free, and their eyes lick down my exposed skin as the dress falls to the floor. The whisper of the cloth over skin has my nipples pressing hard against the lace of my bra.

I kick the garment away and catch the shadow of Ben’s Adam’s apple as he swallows. His expression bolsters me. He’s not watching me strip to my unprotected layer, he’s witnessing a celestial phenomenon. Something awe worthy.

And this moment is awe worthy, dammit.

Stoneheart remains frozen in place, neither smug at my actions or ready to take over. He waits, curious and guarded as if I’m a falling star that will rip him to shreds.

Now that I’ve started, I don’t want to stop. An energy builds behind my breastbone. I unhook my bra and shrug that off. My wet panties follow even as they try to cling to my inner thighs.

My breathing is loud in my ears, and the air over my bare skin causes goose bumps to break out.

A pleased purr escapes Stoneheart but cuts off when I kneel. I nearly gasp when my knees sink into the lush rug. The slight burn of the fibers digging into my skin sets off a reaction that has my legs squeezing together.

Every sensation is magnified like this.

The flare of surprise in the gargoyle’s eyes is gratifying, and he doesn’t wipe it away. His carefully controlled demeanor is cracking because of me. Because I’m kneeling before him and planning on shattering whatever resistance in this game he’s going to play with my next words.

“Please.” My voice starts out hoarse, and I clear my throat past the curious mix of humiliation and need. “Fuck a baby into me, Remy.”

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