Page 103 of The Reluctant Wife

"I missed you." I yawn hugely, then lock my arm about his neck.

I woke up horny and desperate for that orgasm. I’m so ready to consummate this marriage. The only thing more intense than the need to feel him inside of me is this ache in my chest.

It's this overpowering yearning to be with him, to feel his arms around me, to draw in his scent and be the focus of his attention, which drove me to leave my bed and find him.

His mouth curves. He bends and presses a kiss to my forehead, then carries me inside to the bedroom. He lowers me to my feet. Then, holding my gaze, he reaches around me to lower the zipper on my dress. My breath catches.

The neckline slips down over one shoulder, then the other. He bends and kisses the curve of one, then peels it down my arm. He repeats his actions on my other side. I let the fabric slide down to pool around my ankles. The air between us heats. A tremor shivers down my back. Then he reaches behind andunhooks my bra and pulls that off as well. He stares at my breasts. My nipples pebble.

"You’re so beautiful." He kisses one breast, then the other, then trails his lips up my throat to my lips. He kisses me. That yearning sensation in my tummy catches fire, and I sway toward him.

He scoops me up in his arms again and places me on the mattress. I look up at him, befuddled, as he pulls the cover over me.

"You need to sleep." He begins to strip off his own clothes efficiently. The tie, followed by the jacket and shirt. When he reveals his wall-like chest with the dog tags around his neck, that fire in my veins is fanned into a full-blown inferno.

I lick my lips, taking in the thick biceps and the veins on his forearms which flex as he drops his clothes on a nearby chair. The jingle of his belt buckle, the r-r-r-ipping sound of the zipper as he lowers it, then the whisper of his pants as he shucks them off.

He straightens and lets me have my fill of powerful thighs, hair roughened legs, big feet, and neat toenails. My pussy instantly clenches, and my nipples pebble. He walks around to his side of the bed and slides in. Then he turns me over on my side, slides his arm under my neck and spoons me. With the heavy weight of his arm around my waist, and the heat of his body cocooning me, I’m surrounded by him, and it feels heavenly.

I’m sure I’m too turned on to sleep but I find my muscles unwinding. A heaviness steals over me, and I close my eyes. When my eyes open next, I find I’m in the same position. The pale light of dawn creeps in through the window whose curtains weren't drawn. I’m pinned under his arm, and I can feel his breath raising the hair on my head. I turn slowly and take in his features.

His thick eyelashes form a fringe over those cheekbones I’d die to have, that patrician nose, that full lower lip that drew me to him from the beginning, that strong chin that hints at his dominant nature, the beautiful cords of his throat that stand out in relief… I reach out and touch them. His skin is soft to the touch, but the strength underneath filters through my fingertips. I trace them up to his chin, then gently outline that gorgeous mouth of his. His lips part and he sucks on my fingertip. I shiver and raise my gaze to find he’s watching me with that intent look I spotted in his gaze the very first day I met him.

His chest rises and falls but, otherwise, he’s so still. That ability to keep completely motionless is unnerving. I lean in and, with my eyes open, kiss him.

Our lips meet, and our breaths mingle. He stares into my eyes, and it feels like I’m drowning in a storm-darkened sea. I slip my fingers around to tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. It must hurt, but he doesn’t flinch. He also doesn’t kiss me back. I straddle him, so the thick length tenting his boxers digs into my core. I begin to grind my aching center on that blunt instrument of torture.

He grows even harder, longer, if that’s possible. I keep my gaze locked with his, then slide my hand down his front to brush up against his waistband. And when I slip my fingers inside to graze at the head of his cock, he moves.

He shoves me onto my back and plants his arms on either side of me, holding up most of his weight. His lower body, though, pins me down. "Remember what I said?"

Of course, I do.But I’m not giving him the satisfaction of admitting that. Besides, I want to incite him. I want to push him into losing control and taking me over the edge, because damn it, I’m tired of this crawling, empty sensation that's dug its claws into my insides and refuses to let go. So, I tilt up my chin and jut out my lower lip. "I’m sure you’re about to tell me."

One side of his mouth curls, and something feral glints in his expression. I’m reminded, again, that this man is at his peak. An apex predator who likes to toy with his prey, who, in this case, is me. A shiver of anticipation jolts up my spine. My nerve-endings crackle. I try to pull away, but he has me pinned so that I can barely move. My breathing grows choppy. My heart rate shoots up. He lowers his head and licks up my cheek, and I whimper.

Oh god.His touch ignites little pinpricks of need all over my body. "Why are you torturing me like this?" I moan.

"Because it’s so much fun to see you writhe under me, baby." He drags his whiskered chin down my cheek, and I whimper. And when he bites down on the curve of my shoulder, the explosion of pleasure in my blood stream almost shoots me over the edge.

"Ryot, please, please, please," I pant, knowing the more I ask, the more he’s going to delay my gratification. It drives me out of my head with frustration, which turns my insides to a seething mass of need. He bends and runs his nose down my throat to between my breasts. He inhales deeply. I shudder.

"So, fucking sexy," he growls.

Another whimper works its way from my lips.

He drags his bearded chin toward a nipple, and the friction stabs little knives into my skin. Panting loudly, I throw my arms about his shoulders, but he twists one arm back and over my head, then the other. He holds my wrists in place and wraps my fingers around the bars in the headboard. "Hold on."

He rolls off of me and rises to his feet. I watch as he shoves his boxers down and kicks them off. Then he palms his massive cock and squeezes it from base to head. Little drops of precum glisten at the tip. I squeeze my thighs together to try to hold in the ache, not that it helps. And when he snatches the belt from where he dropped his pants last night, I widen my gaze. "Wh-what’s that for?"

He merely smirks, then climbs back between my legs. He reaches over, loops his belt around my wrists, and ties my arms to the headboard. I tug to find they're secure, but loose enough that I can get free if I want to. But I don’t want to. I want him. His touch. His kisses. His hands on me. His lips on mine. His dick inside me.

"I want you—" I swallow. "I want you to do anything with me that you want."

He quirks his head. "You sure about that?"

His tone is so serious, I pause to consider my words, then nod. "Yes." I nod again. "I want you to take me, fuck me, use me. I want you to treat me like your fucktoy."

He smiles. "You don’t tell me what to do."

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