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“Not a kill count. A loss count,” I corrected her. “Every good De Sanctis man lost under my leadership is here.”
“The night we met you killed two of them yourself,” she reminded me.
“I saidgoodDe Sanctis men. Men with honor, who deserve the name. I carry them with me, so I never forget that my men’s lives are in my hands, and their families’, too.”
She swallowed hard. “And I thought it was hard being responsible for Lucy,” she joked.
“Being responsible for one, or one hundred, is the same. A burden and a gift.”
Her eyes lifted to mine. She shook her head, an incredulous smile playing on her beautiful lips. “You have no idea how often I’ve thought those words. I've never said them out loud, though. They go in the ‘secrets we take to our grave’ pile…for me, anyway.”
“You can tell me anything, Charlotte. Confess your secrets, and I’ll carry them. You’re my wife now.”
“On paper, right? I mean, how else?” she asked, her breathing coming harder as she spoke.
“I’ll show you how else.” I reached for her dress again, my hands going to the column of tiny buttons down the side. They were tedious as hell, but I was a patient man, and I had waited my entire life to a woman I wanted to marry.Thiswoman. Nothing would make me rush now.
The tension was thick as I slowly undid the dress, giving Charlotte plenty of time to consider what was coming. My wife seemed to feel some sense of shame every time her body responded to my touch. She was embarrassed about how wet she got. Ashamed about the way her nipples begged to be sucked, and how she liked to be held down, helpless and out of control.
I planned to teach her to take pride in her pleasure. To demand it.
The dress sagged as soon as the last button was undone, and I pushed it off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet in a waterfall of chiffon, silk, lace and pearls.
She was wearing a corset-style undergarment, with garters that held up sheer stockings. It was all a creamy, virginal white.
I helped her step out of the dress and pulled her away from it to the huge mirror that sat opposite the bed.
Standing behind her, I wrapped her long hair around my fist, trapping her head in place and waiting until her eyes found mine in the reflection.
“What do you see?” I wondered, one hand in her hair, the other roaming over the front of her body.
My tanned, tattooed hand was a stark contrast against her white undergarments. Her attention fastened onto the back of my hand. I moved first to her neck, circling it with my palm. Her pulse beat steadily. She might be nervous, but she wasn’t afraid.
Charlotte knew no fear, unless it was asking for something for herself.
I pressed lightly, and her chin tilted up, instinctively giving me better access. Yes, my little nurse was perfect.
“What do you see, Charlotte?” I repeated.
I moved my hand downward now, heading for her breasts. The corset had a half-cup design, with an overlay of delicate, cobweb-fine lace. I could see her nipples through it. I closed my fingers around one and pinched it lightly.
Her lips parted, responsive as hell.
“Answer me,” I ordered her.
“Me and you,” she shot out. “I see me and you.”
“Hmm, is that right?”I only see her. Nothing can distract me from her.
“But who are you?”
“I’m your wife,” Charlotte muttered, arching her back subtly to move her nipples closer to my fingers.
Fuck, yes. I loved how that sounded.
“Hmm, yes, you are. My wife. All mine.”
I ran my hand down her abdomen. “You are also a very beautiful woman. Loyal, smart, and brave…” I trailed off as I reached the hem of the corset. There were a couple of inches of flesh and then her panties. They were the same lace as the corset and completely transparent. I could see her thatch through the white swirling pattern.
