Chapter 26 Twenty six

Chapter 26 Twenty six
REINA’S POV

The next morning came too early. My body still carried the faint, delicious ache from last night’s teasing and my own restless fingers under the covers.

I slipped out of bed before Orion woke, dressed quickly in soft jeans and a loose sweater, and left a note on the kitchen counter:
Ive gone to Gran’s for etiquette lessons, I'll be back by evening.
Don’t work too hard, husband.
I love you.

The car Gran sent was waiting downstairs. I spent the ride replaying every moment of our sofa make-out session. I thought of the way his tongue had stroked mine, the hard press of him between my thighs, the ragged sound he made when I ground down just right. By the time we pulled up to the estate my cheeks were warm and my pulse was unsteady.

Madame Claire was waiting in the formal sitting room. Today’s lesson focused on hosting: how to greet guests, manage conversation flow, remember names and titles without seeming to try.

She had me practice introductions with imaginary dignitaries, correct my handshake (firmer, but not crushing), and teach me the subtle art of redirecting intrusive questions with a polite smile and a change of subject.
My back screamed from holding perfect posture for three straight hours. My face hurt from smiling demurely. But I managed with no major slips. Madame Claire even murmured “Adequate progress” before she left.

Gran hugged me at the door. “You’re doing wonderfully. Tomorrow we’ll work on ballroom dancing. You’ll need it for the reception.”

I laughed tiredly. “I’m going to need a massage after all this.”

Gran’s eyes twinkled. “Tell Orion. I’m sure he’d be delighted to help.”

The drive home felt endless. My muscles ached, my mind was foggy, but underneath it all was a low, simmering anticipation. I wanted him home. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted to push him right to the edge again.

When I stepped into the penthouse Bessie greeted me with an enthusiastic bleat. The place was quiet. Orion wasn’t back yet. I showered quickly, letting the hot water ease the knots in my shoulders, then slipped into the tiniest pair of lace boyshorts I owned. It was black and the lace edging rode high enough to expose the lower curves of my ass and a thin white tank top that clung to my still-damp skin. The fabric turned almost sheer where it stuck to me between my shoulder blades.

I stretched out face-down on the thick living-room rug, arms folded under my cheek, ass slightly raised. The position pulled the shorts even higher, leaving little to the imagination. I waited.

The front door opened forty minutes later.

Orion’s footsteps paused in the foyer. I heard his briefcase hit the floor, then the soft thud of his shoes as he walked toward the living room.

I didn’t move. I just waited.

“Reina?”

His voice was already rough.

I turned my head just enough to look at him over my shoulder. He stood frozen in the doorway, suit jacket half off, tie loosened, eyes locked on the sight of me sprawled on the rug.

“My back hurts from posture class,” I said, letting my voice dip into a pout. “Please?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. For a moment I thought he might turn and walk away. Then he shrugged out of his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and crossed the room.

He straddled my hips carefully, knees bracketing my thighs. I could feel the heat of him immediately, the heavy thickness already straining against his trousers as he settled his weight. His hands came to my shoulders innocently at first, thumbs pressing into the tight muscles with firm, practiced strokes.

I sighed, letting the sound be louder than necessary. “That feels nice.”

His fingers dug deeper. I arched my back slightly, pushing my ass up toward him. The movement dragged the lace of my shorts higher, exposing more skin. He sucked in a breath.

“Lower,” I murmured. “Right there… harder.”

His hands slid down my spine, thumbs tracing the vertebrae until they reached the dimples above my ass. He pressed in deep, slow circles. I moaned sensually every time his thumbs dug in. Each press lifted my hips higher, grinding the soaked lace back against the hard ridge of his cock.

The fabric between us was drenched now. I knew he could feel it: the slick heat of my cunt pressing against him through his trousers, the way my arousal had soaked through the lace and was starting to dampen his pants. His breathing grew harsher. His hips jerked once, involuntarily, pushing his erection harder against me.

I rolled over suddenly.

My legs parted as I turned, cradling him between my thighs. The tank top rode up, exposing the soft undersides of my breasts, nipples peaked and visible through the thin cotton. I looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, lips parted.

“Feels so good,” I breathed, rocking my hips once so my clit dragged along the full length of him. The friction made me whimper. “Don’t stop.”

He was shaking. His hips jerked again, a helpless thrust that pressed the head of his cock right against my entrance through the layers. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to leave marks. His eyes were wild, pupils blown, jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek.

I reached up, dragged my nails slowly down his chest through his shirt, feeling the hard planes of muscle jump under my touch.

“Imagine how good it’ll feel,” I whispered, voice low and husky, “when you finally slide inside me… when you stretch me open, fill me up, fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name…”

His control snapped for one heartbeat. He surged forward, mouth crashing down on mine, kissing me deeply with tongue and desperation. I moaned into it, arching up, grinding harder against the thick ridge of him.

Then he tore himself away.

He pushed off me so fast he nearly stumbled. His chest heaved. His trousers were visibly tented, a dark wet spot spreading at the tip where pre-cum had soaked through. His hands shook as he raked them through his hair.

“Shower,” he rasped. “I need to shower.”

He turned and strode down the hall, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

I lay there on the rug, thighs trembling, cunt throbbing, nipples aching against the damp tank top. My lips were swollen, skin flushed, heart hammering.

I smiled slowly into the ceiling.

He was breaking.

And I was going to enjoy every second of watching him shatter before the wedding night.

ORION’S POV

The cold water hit like knives. It did nothing. My cock was so hard it hurt. It was thick, flushed dark and slick with pre-cum. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her: ass arched, lace soaked and clinging to her swollen folds, the way she had parted her thighs and rocked her clit along my length like she was trying to brand me through the fabric.

I wrapped my fist around myself and stroked hard and fast. A groan tore out of me. I pictured spreading her open on that rug, dragging the lace aside, sinking into her wet heat inch by torturous inch while she clawed my back and begged for more. I imagined her tight walls fluttering around me, milking me, her cries muffled against my shoulder as I fucked her deep and slow until she came shaking beneath me.

My hand moved faster. The slap of wet skin echoed off the tiles. I pictured riding me, breasts bouncing, nipples tight and begging for my mouth, her head thrown back as she ground down hard enough to take every inch. I imagined flipping her over, gripping her hips, pounding into her from behind while she pushed back to meet every thrust, ass jiggling with the force of it.

The orgasm hit like a freight train. I came with a choked curse, spilling over my fist in thick, pulsing ropes that painted the shower wall. My knees nearly buckled. My vision tunneled. I braced one hand on the tile and rode it out, hips jerking, until the last shudder left me.

I stayed under the cold spray until my teeth chattered.

Then I turned off the water, dried off, and pulled on sweatpants.

She was still on the rug when I came ou. Face-down again, ass slightly raised, the damp spot on her shorts darker now. She looked back at me over her shoulder with heavy-lidded eyes and a wicked little smile.

“Feel better?” she asked sweetly.

I stared at her for a long moment, cock already twitching again despite the release.

“I’m going to repay you for every single second of this torture,” I said quietly. “On our wedding night.”

Her smile widened. “I’m counting on it, husband.”

I turned and walked back to my room before I lost what little control I had left.

Two weeks.

I had two weeks.

And I was already planning exactly how I would make her scream my name when the wait finally ended.