Page 117 of The Wicked

“Turn over.”

She did as she was told, stretching languidly like a cat. That was another way she’d changed—shyness took a back seat to confidence these days, although she’d happily cede control in the bedroom. My perfect woman. Right now, her ass was pretty as a picture, just waiting for my palm. I toed off my boots, dropped my jeans to the floor, and knelt on the bed behind her.

“Not fast enough.”

“Sorry, sir.” Saralisa turned her head and bit that lip, knowing exactly what it did to me. “Show me how bad I’ve been.”

She wasn’t even a tiny bit sorry, but I gave her what she wanted. Her ass turned deliciously pink, and those breathy gasps made me throb. This woman was mine in every way.

“I need you,” she choked.

Her pink pussy lips gaped open, and she got me. Hard. Bare. She was on birth control now, not that I’d be unhappy if she ended up pregnant. I wanted kids someday, and I wanted them with her. She’d agreed to the “someday.” When her new business was up and running, when Mandell was out of the picture and her inheritance was finalised, then we’d start thinking about a family.

For now, it was just the two of us, and I gave in to the urge and slammed into her, knowing she’d stop me if she was uncomfortable. So far, she’d only used her safe word once, and that was when I’d been tickling her feet with a feather and she was giggling uncontrollably. This rough, hard pounding was precisely what she liked.

I didn’t need to ask whether she was close; I knew she was. Saralisa didn’t hide her feelings in bed. I reached for her clit and circled that perfect nub with a fingertip, following her over the edge as she milked my cock.

“I love you,” she told me, her voice weak from exertion.

“I love you too.”

And someday, I was going to marry her. Not yet, but someday.

* * *

“It was our first competition. We were…seven?” Marcin said, and Saralisa nodded. “We were seven, and she borrowed a dress from the dance school, but—”

She buried her head in her hands. “Do you have to tell this story?”

“If you prefer, I could tell the one where you found a box of candy in your dad’s closet and—”

“On second thought, tell the first one.”

“So we were dancing a Viennese waltz, and I trod on the edge of the skirt, andriiiiiiip. She was standing there in her leotard, and I didn’t know whether to carry on dancing, or pull the fabric back up, or just apologise profusely.”

“What was the decision?” I asked.

“Saralisa dragged me away from the skirt, and her mouth was set in…you know, that little line, and she told me off for missing out the steps.”

“I was competitive, okay? I still think we could have won if you’d just smiled through it.”

The way she always had? “I’m curious what happened with the candy now.”

Her cheeks reddened. “It was Mom’s Valentine’s gift. Cherry liquors. I ate nearly the whole box before Dad found me, and I ended up puking in the emergency room. Even now, I’m not fond of cherries. But since we’re doing embarrassing stories, why don’t we discuss the time Marcin took his mom’s make-up to dance class and nearly blinded himself with a mascara wand in the bathroom?”

Marcin batted his eyelashes. “I’ve improved my skills, don’t you think?”

“Only because I taught you,” Andriy said.

The ribbing was good-natured, and Marcin was the only man I’d ever met who could carry off eyeliner. His father, Eryk, acted warmly toward Saralisa, and it was clear he’d once cared deeply for her and still did. Losing Marcin’s friendship in childhood had been one more tragedy she’d suffered.

Before dessert, Eryk held up his glass in a toast. “To friendships old and new. I’m so glad we were finally able to reconnect, little Saralisa. We all missed you when you went to Oregon.”

“I missed you too.”

“Marcin begged us to bring you to live with us, and we did offer, but your grandfather wouldn’t hear of it. He said you needed the fresh start. An authoritative man.”

That was the first Saralisa had heard of any offer; I could tell by the way her spine stiffened. And if I had to guess, I’d have said she would have been a hell of a lot happier in the Baluch household.

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