Chapter 25 Moonlight Claim In The Gazebo
I slipped on a thick cardigan and soft slippers, heart racing. The house was silent as I crept downstairs, avoiding the creaky third step. The side door to the garden opened without a sound.
Winter air bit my cheeks, but the sky was clear, stars sharp overhead, a waxing moon silvering the frost-laced grounds.
I followed the gravel path past dormant flowerbeds to the rose arbor, a wrought-iron structure draped in bare vines, behind the marble fountain now still for the season.
Alexander stepped from the shadows the moment I approached, pulling me into his arms without a word. He was warm despite the cold, jacket open, heartbeat strong beneath my cheek.
“I hated every second of that dinner,” he growled against my hair. “Watching him touch you. Serve you. Pretend you’re his.”
“I know,” I whispered, clinging to him. “I hated it more.”
He tilted my chin up, eyes blazing in the moonlight. “You’re not his. You never will be.”
Then he kissed me, hard, claiming, pouring all the jealousy and frustration of the evening into it. I kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers fisting in his shirt, needing to erase every trace of Ben’s performance, the forced smiles, the lingering touches that had set my skin crawling.
His hands slid under my cardigan, palms hot against my back, sending shivers racing down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. pulling me flush against him. I felt how much he wanted me,he's hard, urgent, pressing insistently against my belly through our clothes, and a soft moan escaped me. Unbidden, as desire pooled low in my core, heat blooming despite the winter bite.
“Not here,” he rasped, though his body disagreed. “Too exposed.”
He took my hand and led me deeper into the garden, past the arbor to a secluded gazebo half-hidden by evergreens. Inside, cushioned benches lined the walls, moonlight filtering through the lattice.
The moment we were inside, he pressed me against a pillar, mouth devouring mine again.Our kisses grew frantic, teeth nipping, tongues stroking with urgent need. Hands roamed freely, mine slipping under his shirt to trace the hard ridges of muscle along his abdomen and up to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. Hands roamed, mine under his shirt, tracing muscle; his cupping my breasts through silk, thumbs teasing nipples to peaks.
instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist when he lifted me onto the bench, the cushions sinking under our weight. My pajama shorts were thin; his hand slipped beneath easily, fingers delving between my thighs finding me already wet. He stroked slowly at first, parting my folds with two fingers, circling my clit with deliberate pressure that made my hips buck.
“Always ready for me,” he groaned, stroking slowly. “Only for me.”
I nodded frantically, tugging at his belt. We didn’t undress fully, too cold, too risky, but he freed himself and pushed my shorts aside, entering me in one deep thrust that made us both gasp, the sound sharp in the quiet gazebo, pleasure spiking through the bond like lightning.
We moved together urgently, quietly. The bench creaked faintly under us, cushions muffling the slap of skin on skin. His hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my cries, fingers pressing just hard enough to heighten the thrill, while my nails dug into his shoulders, scraping through his shirt to mark the muscle beneath. The bond flared bright and fierce, amplifying every sensation, pleasure sharpened by the day’s tension, by the forbidden nature of it all. His free hand gripped my thigh, holding me open as he pounded harder, balls slapping against my ass with each thrust, the rhythm relentless.
I came first, clenching around him, biting his palm to stay silent, the metallic tang of his skin grounding me. Stars burst behind my eyelids, my body trembling in his arms. He followed moments later, burying his face in my neck, pulsing hot inside me with a shuddering groan.
Afterward, we stayed joined, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. The warmth of our bodies a shield against the encroaching cold. Sweat cooled on our skin, mingling with the faint scent of our arousal.
“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered eventually. “Watching him play husband. Knowing you sleep alone but he could walk in anytime.”
“I know,” I said softly. “But we only have to pretend a little longer.”
He pulled back, eyes serious. “Not if you let me end it. I could expose the contract. Force the annulment.”
Fear spiked. “And lose everything for my family? No. We stick to the plan. One year.”
He cupped my cheek, thumb brushing my lip. “Then I’ll spend every night of that year reminding you who you really belong to, but don't forget I can take care of you and your family.” He said in a low voice.
We straightened clothes slowly, stealing soft kisses. He walked me back to the side door, waiting until I was safely inside before melting into the shadows.
In my room again, I touched my swollen lips, body still humming.