Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(73)
“You once promised to never let me take advantage of you,” I paused. The sound of my buckle clicking open, and my zipper being unzipped, mixed with the eerie sound of heavy breathing filled with anticipation and something else.
“And I promised in return never to do that to you,” I clarified. Grabbing her thighs, I did a double move of spreading her further and dragging her forward. I was already fully hard, my desire to take her only increasing the excitement. I raised up her hip with one hand, while wrapping the other firmly around my thick shaft. Her eyes opened wide.
“I’m keeping that promise, and all the rest of those vows,” I breathed. I meant what I said; I didn’t plan to hurt her. I’d never take her against her will, but I had to prove to her what I thought of a f*cking divorce.
“What the …” Her breath caught when the tip of me was dragged through wet folds, parting them with the command of my solid head. I was holding myself, stroking forward, but not entering her. I was spreading her for me, prepping her for my entrance, but I wasn’t going in. No, this was about something more. This was much more than f*cking my wife on our dining room table.
My stroking grew in attention, dragging vigorously from base to head. A vein bulged in my neck as I strained to pleasure myself. I was tormenting myself with the closeness of her, but not fulfilling where I longed to be: wrapped in her warmth, her surrounding me with those soft moans and tender scratches. The thought made me pulse. My concentration was intense and my eyes found her startled blues.
“What the f*ck?” Irritation dripped from my voice, as I mockingly repeated her question. I squeezed myself harder, working vigorously at the length of me. My free hand was braced on her thigh, leaning toward her as I rubbed myself, dragging my dick through the heat of her. The thought of entering her pushed me to the edge. I hardly had her shoved away before I released over the blue envelope now between her legs.
“Fuck the divorce, that’s what the f*ck,” I spewed from my lips, as the milky white liquid spurted forth and washed over the blue envelope. Zig-zagging sporadically, like a naughty boy learning to aim his spray, I panted heavily while I covered the blue paper. I looked up from my artwork to see a mixed expression on Sofie’s face: horrified but pleased? I couldn’t hope to dare believe.
“I don’t want the divorce,” she said with a hoarse voice. “But I wouldn’t let you f*ck me, either,” she stated angrily, pushing me back from her.
“Fuck you? I don’t want to f*ck you, I …” The words almost choked me. It didn’t feel appropriate to say them like this. “Jesus, Sofie. What the f*ck do you want from me?” I snapped, continuing to hold myself, which was slowly getting softer.
Staring at her, there was no way to interpret what she felt. There was only a sense that I wasn’t giving her what she wanted. Our eyes were having a conversation as dark orbs tried to absorb what she needed from me, but I couldn’t read her. My eyebrows pinched and I slipped the remainder of the blue envelope out from under her, flinging it carelessly to the floor. I pulled up my pants, shifting myself back inside, despite the returning length. I stared at her open legs, still sprawled and glistening with desire. My first thought was to fall to my knees and worship her with my tongue, the way she deserved. Her sweet temptation on display, and begging to be savored, hardened me further and I gripped the edge of the table to steady my thoughts. But there was still something in her expression that told me, I hadn’t proven anything.
Why couldn’t he say it? Just say you love me, I screamed internally.
While he awkwardly straightened my skirt, I couldn’t move for fear I’d break into pieces. My elbows dug into the hard surface of the gorgeous antique table, and my arms shook with the weight of supporting me. My body vibrated with unsatisfied release, but it trembled with a touch of fear. Cain was a powerful man. While I wasn’t outright scared of him, his anger at the mention, again, of divorcing frightened me. His aggressive behavior and Neanderthal move to show his opinion of the question of separation proved he was on the verge of losing control. He was aggressive by nature, and he found passion in that. However, I didn’t believe he lacked compassion for me. My mind knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but I was still shaken all the same.
Instantly, I was swept up in his arms, cradled against his chest, and my arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. His body must have registered my trembling because he shushed me with a tender kiss to the side of my head.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he said, as he exited the dining room and headed for the staircase. “I’ve got us,” he added. He carried me up the stairs, as if I weighed nothing, and took me directly to his room. My expectation was that he was going to complete what he started downstairs, which I half anticipated and half dreaded. I couldn’t have sex with Cain Callahan one more time without the reciprocation of his love. I’d foolishly said the words the night before. So wrapped up in his tenderness and desire for them, they simply escaped me. At first, I thought he was angry, wrestling with my clothing and slamming into me. I thought he wanted to f*ck the words out of me, force me to take them back, but when his attention slowed, and he begged me tenderly to repeat them over and over, I realized saying “I love you” might have increased the experience for him. It might have intensified the emotion between us. The day after, I felt differently, especially when he hadn’t said them in return. Did he not feel the same?