Page 11 of Reign

It can be an addicting lifestyle. In Venezuela, she was a captive. Nothing about the lifestyle is appealing when you have no freedom to enjoy it. This is her first foray into such a lavish lifestyle as a - I hesitate to use the wordfree– anunharnessedwoman.

Suddenly, the need to touch her is overwhelming. My palms are itching and my skin is hot. I need to be near her. Remind her that whatever they’re promising, it isn’t worth it. I’ve already concluded that Nikita isn’t here. I’ve learned nothing of importance as the conversation has mostly revolved around the guests’ golf games – just like Isabel predicted – and cigar recommendations.

There are accents swirling around me but everyone seems to be avoiding the topic. No one here asks where I’m from so I don’t ask either and therefore gain no useful information at all.

The night feels like a waste.

I excuse myself from the men, interrupting their conversation. “I need to speak with my wife, if you’ll excuse me.” They all nod at me but I follow their eyes to Isabel.

She’s fucking breathtaking. People haven’t been able to take their eyes off of her all night and I know Camila isn’t used to playing second fiddle. She’ll be in a sour mood when we get back to the house.

Isabel sees me coming and her eyes grow a stormy shade of blue.I know what that means.Just to make sure it stays that way, I finger the open button on my shirt, drawing her eyes to that spot and then pop the button open further down on my jacket.The move is partly for her benefit and partly because I’m going to melt alive from the look she’s giving me.

I walk to the back of the loveseat to stand behind her, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her neck. Her new friends are watching me so intently I’m afraid my dick has fallen out of my slacks, or I’m sporting another tent. Thankfully, Isabel leans back into me, covering the area in question. When she looks up at me from her seated position, I swear I almost come like a horny teenager.

Her dark eye makeup causes her blue eyes to shine as if there are lamps within, lighting them up from the inside out.

“Cas, meet our new friends. This is Marguerite and Joelle,” she says indicating the larger woman with a name that sounds like a drink and the petite woman with the short blonde hair. A bob, I think they call it.

I’m still trying to make up for my poor judgement in Venezuela and the time I spent with Camila so instead of making physical contact by shaking their hands, I plant my hands on Isabel’s shoulders and nod at the women. “Nice to meet you.”

Marguerite whimpers. Joelle manages to find two words. “You too.” Both of their eyes are trained on me. Joelle is trying to be discreet. Marguerite, not so much.

“You didn’t happen to move here with a single brother, did you?” she jokes, leaning forward for her drink currently resting on the glass and wicker coffee table, giving me an eyeful of cleavage that I’m not interested in.

Occasionally, as I get closer to forty, it’s nice to know I haven’t lost it. Then again, Isabel’s desire is the only one I’m interested in provoking and the storm I saw brewing her eyes only a moment ago has cooled and she seems ambivalent toward me right now. Probably waiting to see my reaction.

That just won’t do.

I ignore the comment from Marguerite completely and focus my attention on Isabel, my voice growing deeper with need and desire as my fingers gently knead her shoulders. “I need to borrow my wife for a minute but I’ll bring her back shortly.” While they nod, I lean my massive frame down and whisper in Isabel’s ear, “I need a taste of what’s under this dress.” The only reaction I see is her chest rising and falling slightly faster, but otherwise, she keeps her composure… and it’s pissing me off. “Now,”I growl.

“Cas, we’re in the middle of something.” The tone of her voice and the deceptively sweet smile means she’s probably getting more useful information than I did but my throbbing dick doesn’t care about that. Her friends are still staring at me with open mouths and I see Camila scoot closer to me as well, her possessive nature coming out subconsciously.

Killing multiple birds with one stone, I raise my voice loud enough for all four of these women to hear me. “Isabel, I will crawl between your thighs right here in the middle of this patio and –"

She jumps up off the couch and clamps a hand over my mouth. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me for a minute. When I get back, let’s finalize our plans for tomorrow, okay?”

I can feel Camila’s gaze on me. When I cut my eyes to her, her eyes narrow before she speaks to the other women on the couch. “I could use a refill and can someone point me toward the single men at this party?” The new women are still giggling as I lead Isabel to a secluded hallway just inside the house. Placing my hand on her lower back, I feel her breathing falter and I smile.

Finally.

“Honestly –”

I cut her off by pressing her into the wall, one hand in her hair, the other sliding her dress up her thigh. If anyone comes around the corner all they’ll see is my broad back. I’ll be damned if I let anyone catch a glimpse of what belongs to me.

If she wasn’t into it, I’d stop. But she arches her back and deepens the kiss as her hands fly to my chest: inside my jacket, outside my shirt.

When I reach the apex of her thighs, she parts them, allowing me access.

“Fuck,”I hiss as she coats my fingers. I angle my wrist up so the heel of my hand grinds against her clit.

“I’m still mad,” she says between pants.

“I know. I’ll still be here when you aren’t.” It’s amazing I can get any words out as I pump my fingers in and out of her, reveling in the feel of her wrapped around me.

“What if I can’t hold my scream in?”

God, her words.

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