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Fynn’s face is so close to mine our noses brush as he shoves into me again. "Say it, wife. Say no one will take you from me."
There's a raggedness to the demand that has every bit of me clenching tight, eager for the next flex of his solid frame that will bring his body flush against mine. But I don’t want it nearly as much as I want to say my next words. "No one will take me from you."
I've never been wanted. Certainly never had someone desperate to keep me, and it's a heady feeling. Made more affecting because I feel the same way.
And I want to offer my husband the same gift he's giving me.
So I grab Fynn’s hair, holding him as tight as he holds me. "What about you, husband? Are you mine as well?"
Fynn’s nostrils flare, his body continuing to pound into mine, each stroke harder than the one before it. "You possess every fucking inch of me, Val."
That was a good answer. Way sexier than the ones I offered, but a girl can only do so much when she's being fucked within an inch of her life.
The hard line of his dick jerks inside me as I grip his hair tighter, caught up in a storm of pleasure and need and perfection. "Say no one will take you from me."
The thought has red creeping in at the edge of my vision, threatening to turn me into the kind of woman who punches heiresses in the nose.
Again.
But then Fynn’s mouth curves into a little smile, the hand at my face sliding down my center until his thumb is teasing against my clit as he leans into my ear. "No one would dare. They all know I'm madly in love with my perfect wife."
I know I'm not perfect, but hearing him say I am sends me over the edge, clinging to him as he pushes into me one last time, hard and fast, bottoming out with a low growl as the heat of his release pulses inside me. The sensation is unexpectedly erotic and sets off another rush of pleasure that feels an awful lot like I just came again.
My ears are still ringing and my body still won’t cooperate when Fynn straightens, hooking one arm around my back before hefting me up off the chair, his cock still impaling me as he turns. I try to hold on to the best of my ability, but I don't have much left in me at this point. Between crying for nearly an hour before my attempt at leaving Helena’s penthouse, and the three orgasms her son just gave me, I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open, let alone helping support my weight.
Luckily, Fynn’s hold on me is tight. Firm enough that I'm not worried even when he starts to shift from foot to foot as his pants fall down. He barely pauses to kick them to one side before continuing on. We’re about to turn into the hall when something catches my eye. "Wait." I point at the island, realizing I was so distracted when we first came in that I missed something.
Something big.
"Those flowers are new."
The arrangement sitting in the center of the counter is just as big and just as gorgeous as the one I carried across town, but instead of roses and peonies, this one is a collection of pink and white and almost green looking hydrangeas. The colors are bright and feminine, and gorgeous.
"Of course those are new flowers. The other ones were beginning to wilt." He continues walking, carrying me down the hall.
I peek at his face, trying to read his expression. "Do you always have flowers here?"
"Those aren’t my flowers, Darling. They're yours." Fynn enters his bedroom, reaching into the bathroom to drag a towel from the rack before crawling onto the bed, sliding the fluffy terry cloth under my ass before finally pulling his body from mine. “And if you want something different next week, all you have to do is call Arny.”
I give him a sleepy smile, the exhaustion I’ve been fighting for—hell, probably my whole life—catching up to me all at once. “You don’t have to get me flowers every week.”
Fynn stretches out beside me, tucking my body against his. “Considering you were about to walk out on me less than an hour ago, I’d say I need to do much more than get you flowers each week.”
“I thought—”
“Shh.” He pulls the blankets over us. “We have plenty of time to argue over how wrong your assumptions were, wife.” His long fingers slide through my hair, petting me with a gentle touch. “Now go to sleep.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
VALERIE
FYNN HOLDS MY hand tight as we make our way into the bank. When he told me he had to come here this morning, I invited myself along. My life has been up in the air for weeks now, and, thanks to him, I finally feel like I can drag it back down to the ground where it can grow roots.
The first step to doing that is transferring all my funds here.
Well. Maybe that's not the first step. The first step was probably marrying Fynn, I just didn't know it at the time.
My new husband leads me straight through the lobby, not even bothering to check in. That's probably one of many luxuries afforded to people who have the kind of money he does. Lucky me, I get to use it to my own advantage. Instead of sitting in a chair waiting for someone to have the time to help me, I’m ushered directly into an office, then offered a comfortable seat and a beverage.
