Page 27 of Breathe Me: Smith & Belle

Belle

Clara had put ideas in my head. I’d spent the afternoon stewing over what she said. Smith was my key. He fit me in every way. Between the stress of remodeling, running a business, and a seemingly never ending string of threats to both us and our friends, we never seemed to catch a break. It wasn’t as though our sex life had suffered, but I finally understood what was missing. Smith was being a gentleman, preparing for the moment he would become a father.

I loved him for that. Despite his own tragic childhood, he’d wanted a baby as much as I did. Maybe more. He had faith in our ability to be good parents, which made me feel a bit more calm about it as her arrival approached. Nothing had escaped his notice from foot rubs to snacks to coming with me to the doctor. He was falling into the role with an ease I almost envied.

But one of the ways he fit me the most was by being rough and unexpected. I would also want to make love to my husband, but sometimes I wanted him to fuck me.

Like he owned me.

Because he did.

Like I craved it.

Because I did.

In the beginning of my pregnancy, especially after losing our first baby, I’d appreciated his gentle concern. But there was no cause for concern. Every scan had shown a completely healthy baby. I’d flown through this pregnancy with nothing to worry about, save for a little morning sickness in the first trimester. I’d seen Clara’s body during a doctor’s appointment when she was pregnant with William. Alexander hadn’t held back. He’d marked her as his own.

I never thought I’d have to ask Smith to do the same to me. But more than ever I craved the liberation his total dominance gave me. I needed him to take me, use me, possess me.

Basically, I was horny as hell.

It might have been building up the whole time. Maybe it was last minute hormone fluctuations. Part of me even knew it might be down to the uncertainty of what to expect after she was born. Would we ever get a minute alone? What if he didn’t want me the same way he did now? What if everything changed? I wanted to believe it wouldn’t, but a last hurrah of a more erotic nature seemed in order, to be safe.

On our way back to the townhome, I turned to Brex. “Can we stop in Mayfair?”

He glanced at me and nodded. “Sure. Anywhere in particular?”

“Just down Grosvenor.” I didn’t bother telling him what I was up to. Brex was generally a good sport. He didn’t fuss when I insisted on sitting in the front of the Range Rover with him. Smith had flat-refused to allow him to drive me in the Bugatti, which in fairness, was nearly impossible for me to get into and out of at this stage. But even if I couldn’t fit behind the steering wheel, I wasn’t going to treat Brex like my driver. It was bad enough to have a bodyguard. It was worse when he was part of your social circle. At least, he felt that way to me. Smith, as usual, treated him like an outsider.

The first bars of a song started playing on the Rover’s radio and I arched an eyebrow in surprise. “I didn’t peg you for liking country music.”

“I don’t as a rule,” he admitted, flashing a sheepish smile that was at odds with his intimidating presence. “The singer is my cousin. He just won some award or something.”

Brexton Miles, my bodyguard and one of the King’s right hand men, a man who’d been to war, a man you called in to handle deadly situations, was secretly a giant teddy bear. I found myself thinking about what Clara said about him being in love with Georgia. I couldn’t see that working out.

“Well, in that case.” I turned up the song. “It’s not bad.”

“I’ll tell him it meets your approval.” He turned off the A4202 onto Grosvenor, passing a number of shops on his way. There’d been a time when Grosvenor Park had housed numerous embassies. Many of them were now being converted into luxury flats to service the affluent locals. We passed the Eaton Mayfair, a luxurious Georgian building turned hotel where one of my favorite restaurants was located. My stomach rumbled, an increasing phenomenon. I seemed to always be hungry these days. But I wasn’t looking for food now. I had something else on my mind.

“Here!” I said as soon as I spotted the lacquered black storefront. It stood out against the stone and brick of the surrounding buildings. But it wasn’t merely the paint choice that contrasted with the high-end watch shop across the street or the chic clothing store next door, it was its window. My favorite lingerie shop did little to hide its intentions. Mannequins sported sensual lace that snaked and crossed in fashions as provocative as its name implied.

Brex took one look at it and swallowed hard. “I’ll wait outside.”

Despite my refusal to be driven around, he had the advantage of being more mobile than me. Before I’d managed to unbuckle myself by my overdue baby bump, he’d circled round to open my door. He helped me out with a patient smile.

“I’ll only be a moment.” I flashed him a shy smile. I don’t know why I was so embarrassed. If Clara was right and he was in love with Georgia, he was going to need to be a little less prim in the face of some leather and lace.

Stepping inside, I immediately knew I’d made the right choice. Inside, the store turned into a glamorous and darkly decadent space. Black carpet with a subtle floral pattern and gold shelving maintained the hedonistic atmosphere. I might not fit into most of the items in the shop at the moment. I couldn’t help admiring a body suit of intersecting straps that formed a sexy cage on one mannequin’s torso. Someday, I’d be able to wear something like that for Smith again. For now, my choices were limited to the store’s more suggestive accessories.

“May I help you?” A shop girl wandered over, and I felt a surge of envy at her tiny waist. She could fit into anything here and I could barely undo my safety buckle in the car.

Turning from the glass case of gold collars and bracelets, I smiled at her. Her mouth fell open, confirming that I was as big as a house.

“I won’t pop,” I promised.

“My apologies!” She sounded sincere but dubious as to the veracity of my claim. “You didn’t look…” A ruddy blush painted her cheeks as she stopped herself.

I bit back a giggle, marveling that my pregnant belly could shock anyone in a store full of crystal-tipped whips, gold-plated handcuffs, and lingerie that served no other purpose than to entice.