Page 38 of Bloody Lace

It’s stunningly hot. I can feel an ache settle between my thighs, feel the silk panties that I’m wearing beneath my wedding dress cling to my skin as wetness gathers between my thighs, and I take a tentative step towards the bathroom.

I’m not going to go in. If I did, all my protests about us not touching each other on our wedding night, about us not touching each other atall, would be for nothing. I don’t doubt that Dimitri would listen to an absolutenofrom me, but I’m not sure that I can be trusted to summon that no right now.

Not when the thought of him bending me over the bathroom counter and flipping up my feathered skirt, plunging himself into me and giving us what we’ve both wanted ever since he kissed me makes me feel like I can’t breathe. Not when I’m more turned on than I can ever remember having been before.

I press one hand to the bodice of my dress, keeping it from slipping down as I tiptoe towards the door. In his rush, Dimitri didn’t close it all the way, and I can see through the faintest crack, just the outline of my husband in the bathroom mirror.

The sight sends another wave of heat through me. He’s still fully dressed, one hand gripping the edge of the sink hard as the other moves just below it. I can’t see what he’s doing, but that somehow makes it even more erotic, the fact that I know he’s stroking his cock just below the counter, but I can’t see it. I feel a pulse of desire between my thighs, hot need coiling in my stomach, and before I can stop myself, I reach down and slip my hand underneath my skirt.

This is a bad idea.Touching myself while spying on my new husband doing the same in the next room will do nothing other than feed this fantasy, one that I should be trying to get rid of instead. Unless?—

Maybe it will help curb the temptation. Maybe all I really need is a release, to shake off this desire and clear my head. I know I should leave, go downstairs, leave Dimitri to what he’s doing and take care of myself somewhere else—but my fingers are already slipping under the edge of my panties, and I gasp when I feel how wet I am.

I’mdrenched, slick and hot, my clit already swollen. I sink my teeth into my lip to keep from making a sound as I stroke my fingers over the sensitive flesh, my knees nearly buckling at how good it feels. I can’t remember the last time I took some time for myself, the last time I had an orgasm, and I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until now. Until I start to circle my clit with my fingertips, listening to the harsh slap of flesh against flesh and my husband’s muted groans as he strokes his cock, and I can already feel myself getting close.

I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall as I rub my clit. It’s all too easy to imagine that the sounds Dimitri’s making are from him leaning over me in bed, his cock stroking in and out of me instead of his fist, that wet slap the sound of our bodies meeting again and again as we both drive each other to the edge of pleasure. That those groans are because of me, his cock thick and hard inside of me, his hands wrapped around my wrists, pinning me to the bed?—

I press one hand over my mouth, trying desperately to keep quiet as my hips arch into my hand, my body clenching on nothing as I rapidly careen towards the edge of pleasure. I peek through the crack in the door again, my wedding dress slipping down, and I catch it just in time as I see Dimitri arch forward, his face a taut grimace of pleasure in the mirror as I see a glimpse of his thick, rock-hard cock as he aims it towards the basin of the sink, his hand moving in a blur as I realize he’s coming.

He’s coming forme. He’s coming because of me, because he couldn’t wait, because I turned him on so much. The thought sends me over the edge too, and I press my lips together, clenching my teeth against a desperate moan of pleasure as I come with him on the other side of the door, my clit pulsing against my fingertips as I soak my panties with my arousal.

For a moment, I can’t breathe. I nearly sink to the floor in a pool of satin and feathers, ready to collapse from the haze of theafterglow, before I remember that Dimitri just finished, too, and that any second he’s going to come through the door. He’ll see me here, and he’ll know that I heard him. He’ll take one look at me, and know what I was doing, too. And it’s that last thought that propels me away from the door, sends me to the closet to look for a robe as I shove my wedding dress off and leave it in a pool on the floor, wrapping the soft terry cloth around me just in time as Dimitri steps out of the bathroom.

He looks astonishingly put-together, considering what I know he was doing a moment before. His suit looks smoothed out once again, his hair brushed back, his face a mask of calm. “Sorry,” he says, smiling. “I’ll go downstairs and give you some privacy. You can take a bath, shower—whatever you like. I’ll be up later.”

He turns away without another word, walking briskly towards the stairs as I watch him go.

And just like that, I’m alone again.

—

When I wakeup to a dark room, the blackout curtains preventing even the smallest bit of light from coming through, I don’t remember where I am at first. The room smells strange, like cedar and juniper, and the sheets don’t feel right. Far softer than what I’m used to, with a silky duvet covering me, and a mound of feather-soft pillows.

I blink, my eyes sticky, and sit up slowly. I slept so hard that I didn’t even dream, and I rub my hands over my face, trying to clear away the fog.

And then, as I glance over and see the empty, rumpled space next to me, I remember where I am.

I’m in my new, temporary ‘home’. In my husband’s penthouse. My husband, a crime lord’s heir, and the devil I made a deal with.

A devil who tempted me more than I want to admit last night.

Dimitri left me alone, as promised, while I soaked in the bath. That was a temptation I couldn’t ignore—my little studio apartment has a tiny stall shower and no tub, and I haven’t taken a bath since the last time I stayed in a hotel for a client trip, years ago. I found a bottle of jasmine-scented bath oil, filled it with water as hot as I could stand, and soaked in the tub until my fingers started to wrinkle and the water went cold. And then I took off my makeup, did my skin care routine, and slipped into a pair of soft lounge pants and a tank top. I made sure to be in bed before Dimitri came up, so he wouldn’t get a good look at me without a bra on. I know I won’t be able to avoid that kind of thing forever, but last night, I didn’t think either one of us could handle any more temptation.

And I was right.

I pretended to be asleep when he came up, lying as far on the other side of the huge bed as I could manage, and I think he believed it. But I couldn’t fall asleep for a long time, painfully aware of the man in bed next to me, of the heat of his muscled body, the fact that I didn’t even know if he was wearing a shirt, and I was too afraid to look. I didn’t think I could handle seeing him half-undressed.

Having him that close felt like torture. Knowing that if I rolled over and touched him, he could be mine. All of the pleasure that kiss in my apartment offered was inches away, begging for me to give into it, and closing my eyes and trying to ignore it felt like the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

Now, Dimitri isn’t even here. He didn’t stay in bed until I woke up. I fumble for the remote on the nightstand that he told me opened the curtains and jab at the buttons until one works,the dark drapes sliding backwards and flooding the room with morning light as I blink rapidly.

I sit there for a long moment, trying to decide what to do, before I hear a heavy knock at the front door.

Shit!

I jump out of bed, remembering that my things are going to be delivered today. And my ‘things’ include Buttons, who Dahlia promised to make sure was carefully handed over to Dimitri’s delivery guys, and who Dimitri still doesn’t know is coming.

“Shit,” I mutter again, aloud, as I look around for the robe I left over a chair last night. From the looks of Dimitri’s penthouse, he’s either meticulously clean or has a housekeeper here every day, and I have a feeling that might be the first point of contention between us.Afterthe fact that he’s about to find out I have a dog.

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