Chapter 112 One last time
“Will you lie down for me, pet?”
I had just fed us a tasty brunch. Expertly prepared and beautifully presented. But my little wife appeared far from sated. “I have something to attend to. I will be in my study for a while.”
Those doll-eyes were large and pleading, no longer bothering to hide her torment. But she gave me a nod, squeezing my heart in the process.
Gods. If this was truly Nymphaea…
“On the floor, sweetheart.” My voice halted her movement towards the bed. She lowered to the wooden floor and stretched out with the flawless grace that seemed unique to ballerinas.
I padded the floor in her direction and stopped, staring down at her. Her eyes were pinned on me, waiting. And I thought it would do both of us a lot of good if I just pulled her to my pleasure room.
“Put your hands behind your head, keep your elbows jutting out. Yes, like wings.” I smirked sadly. “You have real lovely tits, doll. Give me a minute.”
My trip to the kitchen was exactly one minute, and I re-entered the room with ice chips.
“You have to keep very still.” I dropped to one knee beside her, and placed the first ice cube in the valley between her breasts, away from her heart. “You cannot let it slide off, so angle your body if you must.”
Her skin was shiny with sweat, her face contorted in pain even though I could smell her wetness even from this height.
“Can you do that, pumpkin?”
Her face set in determination, and she gave a nod.
“Spread your legs.”
A red flush bloomed on those plum cheeks and moved all the way up to the bridge of her nose as she parted her legs. The chiffon of her mini skirt caved immediately, shadowing her crotch area.
Silver eyes met mine, her chest rising and falling in anticipation.
Holding her gaze, I moved my hand between her plump breasts, enjoying the little noises she made at my touch even though I hadn't meant for it to be sexual.
Skin can endure silk far longer. And I had been careful with my technique and pressure while wrapping her, but conducting frequent checks kept me at ease.
Unable to resist a little wickedness as I pulled my hand away, I gave one of her pebbled nipples a flick.
Her gasp caught in her throat and she shut her eyes tight. When she opened them again, they were glassy with tears.
I slid my hand down her belly, enjoying her little shivers. I should leave. I should get on with my meeting already.
But I was scared. It was embarrassing to admit even to myself, but I dreaded this meeting more than I did anything.
I had fallen for the ballerina, and this was the last time I would see her in blissful ignorance. The next time I saw her, I would have confirmed whether she was Nympahea or Konrad.
And that might change my feelings towards her.
At this moment, I loved her. Yes. Shocking. The love had not hit me like a sudden punch as it did Finn, or caught me up in a whirlwind like Hale.
It crept up on me quietly, sunk its claws deep into my heart. And I only realized it when choosing the gifts for our consummation night.
But everything would change if she was that damned German's reincarnate. The thought that he had reincarnated beside my wife, and then snuggled his way into my arms…
I dug the heel of my palm against her hip now, teasing her belly button with my finger as she shivered under me. And when I brushed her skirt up, she bucked.
One of the ice chops tumbled against her breast. But it did not fall. She bit her lip hard in a moan. My dick pulsed.
“What do we have here?” I pulled my gaze from her eyes and took in the sight of her mound. She was so fucking wet.
And it appeared this wetness had spread everywhere during the course of the morning, a twinkling pearlescent streaking over her waxed mound, an artful smear on her inner thighs, and a shimmering mucin between that pink flesh.
I gripped her skirt tightly for control, and moved my eyes back to her. She seemed as affected by the sight of me looking between her legs. Her chest was rising and falling a little more heavily.
“Do you want me to touch you? Don't be in a rush to answer.”
It would seem she was in too much torment to think it through, because she nodded quickly, wincing as yet another cold liquid from the melting ice snaked down between her tits and curved along the underside of her breast.
Her thighs shook.
“You asked for it.” I caressed her mound, covering every inch with all my fingers. Her chin raised to the ceiling in a moan.
I tsked in mock disappointment. “You wolves have no self-control.”
She hissed as I petted her some more with my slightly roughed palm, closing my eyes momentarily to the softness, the sleekness of her arousal. “You're unraveling, pet.” I opened my eyes to meet hers. “What will you do when I shove my fingers up in you?”
“Oh, fuck,” she was tapping her little feet on the floor, trying to grab at the floor as she struggled to remain still and not upset the ice chips on her chest.
“Yea, fuck.” I groaned. “That word on your lips affects me more than you know it.” My thumb pried her labia apart as I spoke, gently caressing the plump lips open.
“Is all this wetness for me? Just me?" I pulled away and pushed my fingers in my mouth.
She reacted to this as if I had her clit in my mouth instead. She moaned and squirmed as I held her gaze, sucking on my fingers because I just had to taste her.
That rare taste with a hint of light floral, and tanginess. A texture that tilted towards buttery in darker varieties. On top of it all was the sweetness. Like syrup.
“Mm.” I nodded, still staring at her, and she groaned.
Her juices coincidentally shared the exact flavor profile of honey. Lys technically tasted like honey.