Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

There are masterpieces and then there’s Gwyneth’s face when she’s having an orgasm. Her head rolls back and the darkest of greens overwhelm her irises as her eyes droop and her skin flushes red. She trembles, her whole body going into a shock reaction as a translation of the sensations plaguing her body.

Her lips drop open, begging for something to be in them or on them. Like my own lips.

It takes everything in me not to give into the urge. A fucking dangerous one at that, and so I fuck her harder instead, pushing my thumb all the way into her ass until her tight ring of muscles swallows it and she’s full of me.

Until I’m the only one she can see, think of, or feel.

Only me.

“You’re not going to go around boys again, do you understand?”

“Yes, yes…” she chants, her nails dragging down my back and bicep muscles.

“No one will touch you but me.”

“Mmm…yes!”

“Now, say it.”

“No one will touch me but you.”

“Because you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

Those words and her overwhelming heat lure my own orgasm and I crush her to me, attempting to pull out.

Because I didn’t use a fucking condom. Again.

A part of me wants to fill her with my cum and my baby, but that part is a fucking asshole. She’s still so young and there’s no way in hell I’m making her relive her mother’s story.

“I-I’m on the…shot…” she pants, sinking her nails into my shoulders and her feet into my ass. “D-don’t pull out. I want to feel it.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I curse as I come inside her long and deep until my balls are spent.

We’re both breathing heavily with my thumb and cock inside her and my mouth on her nipple.

Gwyneth stares down at me and the fire that I meant to quench is still there, alive and fucking determined.

She has the type of fire that can’t be put out by water. If anything, it’s out to evaporate the water.

And that fire is now directed at me.

I release her nipple after one last bite that causes her to moan. Then her fingers are sliding up and down the back of my neck. “Hey, husband.”

“What, wife?”

“I think we should have sex again in the shower.”

“You mean I should fuck you?”

“Yeah, that.” She grabs a handful of my hair and runs her fingers through it. “I love it when you do that. Fuck me.”

“Then I’ll keep doing it until you’re satisfied.”

“What if I never am?”

“Then I’ll up my pace.”

Her eyes shine bright at that. “You will?”

“Whatever you like, wife.”

“I don’t think you’d do what I really like.” Her shoulders hunch, but she gives me a mischievous, contemplative smile that’s filled with her earlier fire, the fire that refuses to be put out. “Yet.”

Fuck.

This woman will really be the death of me, won’t she?

Not only did I let exceptions creep in because of her, but now, my brain is also bringing up the questions I never wanted to be answered.

The what-if kind.





27





Gwyneth





I’m in a courtroom.

I mean, yes, I’ve been inside one before when Dad takes the lawyer mic. He’s a witty but very sharp lawyer, the type whom everyone pays attention to when he speaks.

But I haven’t done it since I became Nate’s intern. He said I wasn’t ready back then, but today, he just stood beside my desk and said, “You’re coming with me, Shaw.”

It’s kind of hot when he calls me by my last name at work. They still don’t know we’re married, because I kind of begged Chris after I apologized for what I did to him and Alex that night a week ago.

He totally spilled it to Jane, though, albeit accidentally. She looked at me weird, but she promised to keep my secret, too. Now, I feel a bit more at ease that I can talk freely with them without feeling like I hold the keys to some intelligence stuff.

Chris still doesn’t understand why I even have feelings for Nate, but Jane does, and that’s okay. It’s also okay if no one else understands, like Nate warned me.

The morning after the hot drunk pool sex, he sat me down, put my comfort drink in my hand—my vanilla milkshake—and told me that his mother is possibly right and that this whole thing will backfire. He said I should be prepared for that and that he won’t let me take the fall.

Nate said he’ll let them paint him whichever way they wish, because he couldn’t care less what they think about him.

I heard what he wasn’t saying, though. That he cares about what they say about me. He doesn’t want them to come near me and even has a press statement ready, which is very stern—like him—and doesn’t touch my name even one bit.

Nate doesn’t know this, but things won’t go his way if—when—our relationship becomes public. For the millionth time, he and everyone else will learn that I chose this and I’m old enough to make my own decisions.

There are a lot of things that I want to shout at the top of the world. Like how much Nate and I are compatible and how much we can easily do an activity together without clashing. I want everyone to see that I belong with him, that I never felt as peaceful as when I’m lying in his arms.