I'd spent most of the day recovering.
That was two days ago. He hasn't touched me since, which is strange... considering we’ve had sex every night for almost three weeks... He has an insatiable appetite, and enough stamina to make my knees go weak thinking about how he's marked me each time.
Tonight is the first time since we got married that he is running late at the office. A meeting of FOK investments with all the Seven—well, minus Baron, he'd said. I glance at the clock: midnight. Shit. Where is he? Is he really at work?
Why hasn't he called or texted me?
I sit up in the bed, where I have been tossing and turning over the last hour, trying to sleep. Damn it. I have no intention of keeping his bed warm, like a good little wife, waiting for him. And isn’t that exactly what you've done over the last 3 weeks? Yeah. I haven't left the hotel, content to hide myself away here. Have turned down invitations to meet the girls, even an invitation to tea with Meredith.
Amelie had called me a few times, to check that I was okay. We'd chatted and I'd reassured her I was fine, just coming to terms with my newly married status. She'd made me promise that I'd call her if I needed anything; I hadn't, of course.
Fact is, I don’t want to break this pattern of marital bliss we seem to be indulging in. It sure feels like marital bliss.
Or perhaps it’s the calm before the storm? I shake off the hardness that coils in my chest. I need to keep busy...while I waited for my 'lord and master' to turn up.
Thankfully, he has stopped insisting I call him Sir, which is a relief. What caused him to change his mind? Not that it has stopped him from being as demanding in his needs toward me. All of which I have been happy to comply with.
Our time together is almost up. Was it wrong of me to not try to get the information needed before this? Had it been foolish of me to try to make the most of the time Antonio had granted me? He'd assured me he'd keep Nina safe during this time. Had I been mistaken in trusting him on that? He won't hurt Nina, I am sure of that. If anything, his expression had indicated that he has feelings for her, but that’s my intuition. What if I’m wrong?
What if I had been stupid to allow Saint to lull me into a false sense of security? I haven't wanted to do anything to upset the balance of sorts that we seem to have established. Where the hell is he, anyway?
I shove the covers off of my body, then forgo my clothes in favor of a bathrobe. This late, there won't be many hotel guests around. I take the elevator down to the heated indoor swimming pool on the first level. Draping my bathrobe over a lounge chair, I dive in, begin to swim laps. The rhythmic ebb and flow of the water over me, the burn in my arms, the power of my body pitted against the resistance provided by my headlong rush—all of it sinks into my blood, calms me. I reach the far end of the pool for the fourth time, when an electric current runs up my spine. I thrust an arm out, push forward, raise my eyes and spot the figure at the head of the pool. My muscles bunch, I miss a stroke, go under, then come up gasping. My heart begins to thud, my pulse beating at my temples as adrenaline laces my blood. I propel through the water, toward the man who stands motionless. Waiting...waiting for me. I reach the edge of the pool, hold onto the rim.
Run my gaze up those beat up cowboy boots, the tailored slacks that outline those powerful legs, to the tent of fabric at his crotch. My throat dries. Of course, he's aroused. He hasn't had sex for...three nights now. Unless, he'd sought out someone else before coming here?
Ask him, damn it. And what? Sound like a nagging wife? I toss my head. No way. Besides, that would be a dead giveaway that that I've been thinking of him all day. And no way, am I giving away what little power I am clinging to in this relationship
I tip my chin up, meet that searing blue gaze.
"How did you find me?
"Very little happens here without my being aware of it."
I glance up at the corners of the ceiling. "The cameras?"
He nods. "I switched them off, by the way." His lips kick up.
My throat closes. He reaches down, unbuckles his belt. The sound of leather against his buckle rasps across my sensitized nerve endings. He lowers his zipper and my pulse rate ratchets up. His thick shaft spills out. He widens his stance, grabs his cock and pumps himself hard once. A bead of precum appears at the tip of the angry head. My mouth dries.
I can't take my gaze off of his swollen dick as he proceeds to massage himself. His strokes are ferocious, punishing. His breathing grows shallow; my chest rises and falls in tandem. His shaft thickens, and even with the distance between us, I can see the veins along the underside pulsing, throbbing. My sex clenches, my nipples tighten, and goosebumps pop over my skin. I lick my lips, gulp down my anticipation. Don't move. Don't say anything. Wait... Wait. He massages himself once more,
