her lashes, streaks from the corner of her eyes like rivers down her face. But I preferred to see her with ruined makeup—because that meant I’d done a good job.
The food was excellent as always, but I didn’t really enjoy it because I was too busy enjoying her appearance, appreciating the fact that she was really there with me. This wasn’t a hallucination that my mind had created in my cabin. I didn’t have to stare at the flames and see her face somewhere in between. This image of her was real.
Her eyes met mine. Sometimes they were down on her food, sometimes they looked out the window. She’d missed me while I was gone, and now that she had me back, she was nervous, intimidated by my presence. “How was your trip?”
“Fine.” I expected her to ask me about Raven’s well-being, but she was smart enough not to. “Gilbert teaching you?”
She nodded before she took a bite of her food.
“Your French is good.”
“That’s pretty much all I know how to say.”
It was the most beautiful line I’d ever heard spoken, like prose straight out of a classic French novel. It was the single most erotic moment of my life, coming home to my woman and listening to her say those words to me. “You said it beautifully.”
She gave a slight smile before she looked down into her soup.
“Gilbert been good to you?”
“He’s been wonderful. We’ve had our lunches together, sometimes dinner.”
“And he was pleasant to you?” When I’d realized Melanie’s assumption about Gilbert was correct, that he did hate her, it made me angry. To have my own staff disrespecting the woman I’d chosen was ludicrous. It was disrespectful to me—and no one disrespected me.
“Very.” She lifted her chin and studied my face, reading the anger in my eyes. “It’s water under the bridge, Fender.”
I’d never understood the expression because I didn’t believe in it. Water was never under the bridge with me. The only time it was was with Melanie—because it was impossible to hold a grudge against her.
“What did you do at the camp?” Anytime that place was mentioned, her voice trailed off, like she was hit by the memories of the cold, the drugs, her sister.
“Make an appearance.” I did my checks to make sure everyone was doing their job, but my presence was work enough. It taught everyone in my employ that I could show up at any moment, for any reason, and if anyone had their pants down, they’d die by my bare hands.
She finished her meal then set down her fork. “I asked Gilbert if we could go shopping together, but he said I’m not allowed to leave.” She silently asked for an explanation, her eyes shifting back and forth between mine.
I held her gaze, waiting for the rest of the sentence or a question.
“You think I’ll run away?” Hurt was in her voice, a slight change in her tone.
I studied that look for a long time, loving the fading light in her eyes, the way she needed my confidence to be happy. “No.”
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“I just don’t want you out and about when I’m not in the city. The safest place in the world for you is right beside me. When I’m not here, second best is this palace. If you want to go shopping tomorrow, you may. I just expect you to be home by the time I’m finished with work.”
I lay against the pillows at my headboard, my legs straight and stretched out in front of me, my hands on her hips to hold but not to guide. I watched her move up and down, rolling her hips, getting slick with shiny sweat, her tight pussy taking in my tank of a dick like it was her honor to ride it.
She knew I liked it slow when she was on top. I liked to savor the feeling of her tightness around my length, how she remained so goddamn wet all night long, the little pants she made when she grew tired but pushed through it.
It allowed me to enjoy her in a whole new way. It made me feel like a king in my palace, to watch the most beautiful woman bed me like she was my queen.
She was my queen.
My countess.
When I was ready to give my final load, I grabbed her hips and forced her down, taking in my entire length as I came, the muscles in my thighs tightening, my arms bulging just a bit more,