“I love you more,” she gasps, digging her short nails into my arse, her undulating hips begging me to move or go deeper, anything but the complete stillness I’m torturing her with.
“Not possible,” I grunt, pulling back to glide in, my pace as unhurried as hers is hard. “I’m obsessed with you.”
It’s true. I think of her and our children every waking minute, even at work or when I’m negotiating a multimillion dollar deal. I crave her like nothing I have ever craved in this world, and spend even my sleeping hours dreaming of her soft skin and snarky sarcasm.
If any had told me months ago that I would love my wife so completely I would have laughed and spit in their eye, assuring them that I had no need to love a woman who’d betrayed me once, and yet here I am, half mad with the need to possess every inch of her.
“Harder. Please,” she begs, squeezing my hips to speed up my thrusts. I won’t, though, not until she gives me what I want.
“You know what I’m waiting for, love,” I groan, pulling back and repeating my languid entry.
“I’m yours. Always!” she yells, moaning out her words when I give her what she wants and start thrusting harder, faster, trying to get so far inside she’ll never be rid of me.
I want her to carry my scent. Inside and out. I want her so full of me that no other will mistake my ownership. Barbaric, I know, but it’s what I need in order to function normally and get my job done when I can’t be right next to her where I want to be.
“That’s it, love. Yes, hold me,” I moan when she starts contracting around me, her climax setting off my own as I let go and release inside her, marking her in the most primitive way possible.
When she’s replete and snuggled safely into my side, I allow the peace I’ve been seeking to take hold and savor my own feelings of bliss. Only one thing can mar the perfection of this moment, and that’s the guilt I feel knowing that I’m deceiving my love.
After that harrowing experience and the near loss I’d felt three months ago I’d done the only thing I could and booked myself in for a vasectomy. Knowing Ash, and knowing my needs to claim, I’d had it done for peace of mind.
Here’s the thing: I love my wife and would die without her, no matter how much the children mean to me. To that end I’ve safeguarded not only her but my state of mind by ensuring that she will never again be at risk and that, bar something bad happening, I will have her for eternity.
I will do anything to keep her.
Anything.
Chapter Thirty Eight
I keep getting this weird, tingly feeling all down my spine, the same one I’d had the day my mom died, and the exact same one I’d been getting the day Wesley had stormed the house and ripped me from the safety of my haven.
But I’m not giving in to the paranoia my husband seems to thrive on—yeah, I know the guy got himself snipped and isn’t telling me, since I’m pretty well acquainted with his dick, and he’s definitely had something done.
I’m not as mad at him as I should be because the reasonable part of my mind finds it incredibly sweet that a man like him would let a sharp implement near his boy just to ensure I’m never knocked up again.
I could have fought it and demanded he have it reversed, but I won’t. If this is what the nut needs to stay sane and confident in me, I’ll give it to him, even if I hate it.
Now back to the weird feelings. They’re so strong that I’ve had all five kids and myself at the doctor’s to make extra sure nothing is wrong with anyone, and I even convinced Luc to go for a check-up under the guise of my ‘I’m just trying to make sure the kids don’t catch anything from either of us’.
We’re all healthy as horses.
“That’s some strange hoodoo you got going on, sweetheart. Maybe you should go see the psychic my sister has me going to.”
“Seriously, Brit? I don’t believe in that nonsense. Nah, I just think I’m having a hard time since the triplets have started teething and Luc is still in Germany.”
“Geez, you need to stop being so clingy and get out of the house a little. Come to a Golden lunch and leave the Terribles with the housekeeper for an hour.”
“No. they’d have the poor woman run ragged in ten minutes, and you know it. Lucky got into the flour yesterday, something he shouldn’t have done since the kid can’t walk yet. I think my kids have super powers and are working for evil. Either that or they’re just plain evil. And I’m not even going to tell you what daddy’s little princess is doing. Next time he goes away on business I’m hiding that little monster in his luggage.”