Page 42 of Severe Husband Warning

“They did.”

A soft giggle escapes her. “I’m afraid they’re beyond saving.”

“I’ll survive.”

She laughs again, the sound bright and unguarded, while she frees another button.

Rather than prolong her efforts, I lift a hand. Storm-light ripples across my shirt before the fabric dissolves into drifting wisps that vanish into the air.

Her hands still as her gaze drifts over the scars crossing my chest, lingering with quiet appreciation that stirs something unfamiliar within me.

“How come you never use your magic on me like that?” she asks, shrugging out of her worn coat.

“If I did,” I whisper, stepping closer, “how would I have the privilege of doing this?”

I remove each layer with unhurried reverence, my lips following wherever my hands have been. By the time the last garment falls away, she stands before me exactly as she is.

“Rothgar,” she says my name with quiet wonder.

Pulling back, I let my gaze travel over her, drinking in the sight of her sprawled across my desk.

“You are a vision, Calla.” I brush my thumb over the warmth of her skin, caressing until her eyes lift to mine once more. Slowly, I drag my hand down from her face to her perfect breast and squeeze until she arches into my hot palm. “Fucking perfect.”

I lean forward and draw a peaked nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. With my other hand, I push her thighs apart, and plant her left foot onto the desk, leaving her utterly bared before me.

Kneeling on the cold floor, I draw a slow breath, committing every tremor of her to memory. When I lift my gaze, the trust shining in her eyes steals the air from my lungs.

“You are so beautiful, Calla.” My fingers tighten against her thighs. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

She searches my face for only a moment before shaking her head.

I require no further answer. With my hands braced around her, I bend to her soaked cunt. The first taste of her draws a groan from deep within my chest, answered at once by her startled cry echoing through the quiet of my study.

“Rothgar!” Calla screams when I slip a finger with my tongue, alternately fucking her with them. I feel her begin to unravel beneath me, every breathless sound tightening the ache within me. “Rothgar, please!”

She begins to squirm beneath me. Her thighs tremble as she reaches for me, her fingers threading through my hair before settling around the curve of my horns. The touch pulls another rough sound from my throat.

“Fuck, Calla.” She guides my head and rolls her hips against my mouth, chasing my tongue with each stroke. “That’s it. Ride my face.”

“Yes!” she cries, grinding her clit against my nose. “Please, I want you.”

“Not yet.” The words leave me low and unsteady. “I need you to come all over my face, love.”

The sounds filling my study grow wonderfully unrestrained until her body finally yields, her cries breaking softly into my name as wave after wave overtakes her.

Only when the trembling begins to ease do I rise.

She sits before me, beautifully undone, and the evidence of her pleasure has long since found its way onto the abandoned maps scattered across my desk.

Weeks of careful work lie in ruins, and I cannot summon the slightest regret. I will commission another set before I allow myself to regret choosing her.

“Open for me, wife.” My voice comes quieter than the command deserves, roughened by the lingering taste of her.

She obeys without hesitation, never breaking my gaze.

I slip two fingers inside her waiting mouth and even without instruction, she sucks, cleaning my fingers of her sweetness all the while staring at me as she does. Leaning down, I kiss her with the same reverence she has awakened in me.

I drink her in for a moment, committing this version of her to memory.