Page 114 of The Devil’s Lair

Rebecca gets to it before me, deft fingers unfastening each one, her eyes locked on mine. As tired as I am, my dick doesn’t get the memo. By the time she unzips my trousers and rolls them over my hips, it’s obvious where ninety percent of my body’s blood has ended up.

“Shower with me.” My voice sounds rugged, drunk with need, despite the fatigue stitched into every cell in my body.

She doesn’t hesitate. Her dress falls to the floor, leaving her in a set of jaw-dropping, midnight-blue lingerie. And when I say jaw dropping, I mean my mouth actually falls open and I stare. And stare. And stare.

“Good God,” I rasp. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”

Pivoting, she heads to the bathroom, removing her underwear as she goes. I yank down my boxers and almost sprint after her. It’s difficult to believe that a few short months ago, this scenario would’ve made me want to puke and run as far away as possible. Now, the only direction I want to run is toward her.

Only her.

Steam swirls from the shower cubicle, curling around the spotlights carved into the ceiling. Rebecca opens the door and takes my hand, leading me inside. Reaching behind me for the shower gel, she squirts a generous dollop onto a washcloth and proceeds to wash the smell of blood and death off every square inch of my body. Stopping myself from pushing her up against the wall, dropping to my knees, and worshiping her with my lips and my tongue is testing my resolve, but somehow, I stand still and let her take care of me.

Once my body is clean, she shampoos my hair, digging her fingers into my scalp.

I lower my head and groan. “That feels so good.”

“You have the softest hair,” she murmurs as she rinses off the soap. “I think I forgot to tell you that.”

“You’re telling me now.”

Her eyes find mine with a heat that is my undoing. Lust slams into me. Our mouths crash together. All those years of abstinence, of watching others find pleasure and wondering why I couldn’t melt away, washed down the drain. I push her hands over her head, pinning her to the wall with my hips as my free hand roams over her body, committing to memory the way her skin feels, how her breath hitches, the moans she makes.

The way she makes me feel normal.

My dick nudges her belly, eager to race to the finish line, but this isn’t about me. It’s about her. For the rest of my life, it will always be about her. I drop to my knees and bury my nose in her soft curls, breathing in the smell of her.

Tipping back my head, I look up at her. “I’m glad you don’t shave or wax your pussy.”

She chuckles. “Interesting time for that observation.”

“It’s true. I don’t have in-person experience, but I’ve seen enough bare pussies to know I prefer this.”

I part her lips and slide my tongue inside her with slow, measured strokes.

“Keep going,” she whispers. “Don’t stop.”

Replacing my tongue with two fingers, I nibble her clit. “I have no intention of stopping. Not until you come in my mouth. I want every drop, Wren.”

Her fingers dive into my hair, and she tugs, hard. “More.”

I go at her with my tongue again, hypervigilant, watching for bodily cues, making sure to hit the right spot every time. We’re so new at this, it’d be easy to fuck up, but I’ve always been a keen observer.

“God, Tobias, I’m… I’m… argh.” Her grip on my hair tightens as her climax rushes through her. The sweet taste of her floods my mouth, coating my taste buds. I wait for the tremors to stop, then slowly rise to my feet and kiss her.

“Fuck me,” she murmurs.

“Here?”

“Here. I want to feel you inside me.”

Hooking my hands underneath her, I lift her legs and settle them on my hips. She crosses them at the ankles, holding on tightly, the angle lining me up perfectly. I slide home, taking her inch by inch, giving her body time to adjust. Tonight gave me an unwelcome reminder of what Rebecca has suffered at the hands of animals who dare to call themselves men. With every word, every action, I intend to slowly erase those memories and replace them with ones that make her smile, make her moan, make her dig her fingernails into my back the way she’s doing right now.

“I won’t break. Give it to me, Tobias. Don’t hold back. Don’t rob me of you.”

“Fuck, Wren.” Dropping my head onto her shoulder, I give her what she asked for. It’s fast, hard, sweaty, and my orgasm comes at me far quicker than I would have liked.

I come inside her. Inside my wife. Inside the woman I believed I was saving, but in the end it was her who saved me.