Page 19

Chapter nineteen

Hunter’s Residence, London

Hunter

Isabella takes the knife from my hand. She stares at it, beautiful dark eyes narrowing with interest. The silver glints as she turns it over in her palms, then a delicate finger runs down the blade to the tip. She presses on the pad and a drop of blood appears. I take her hand, lifting it to my mouth and sucking at the bead gently, removing the smudge of imperfection.

“Why do you love your knife so much?” she asks, catching me off guard.

Her focus stays on the blade. She wraps her palm around the sharp edges and raises the handle to eye level. It’s an intricate, made in silver with a dragon curling around the woven design, a large green emerald lodged in the hilt.

“This is one of my favorites,” I tell her. “The stone was once the property of King Henry VIII. He requested it was set in this blade as a dress piece to wear to events. I like to think I’m royalty when I carry it.”

She gives me a dubious look that tells me she doesn’t believe my story, and I shrug. In all honesty I wasn’t sure I believed the seller’s tale either, but it was a nice touch and one I’ve used a few times over a drink with men. Inebriated individuals will believe anything when you sound as if you’re telling the truth.

“That’s not answering my question, Hunter. I’ve heard plenty of gossip about you and your knives. I want to know why my husband has a deadly fetish.” I laugh out loud at that. My obsession with the weapon isn’t something I think of often. I just know without one somewhere on my person, I feel undressed.

“I suppose…” I begin, unsure how to word my explanation without seeming more deranged than I already appear. “Knives have been the one constant in my life I could trust. My ability to use them to both get what I want and protect myself is my greatest strength.”

Isabella looks from the item in her hands directly at me. Her face twists a little as if in pain. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling dramatically. She looks absolutely radiant sitting on my bed, where she should always have been for the past two decades.

“No, Hunter,” she says, her voice trembling. A single tear runs down her cheek. I quickly wipe it away with my thumb. “Your greatest strength is your heart.”

Once again, she knocks the wind from my lungs with a statement said with so much truth it cuts deep. Over our years apart, I can’t imagine anyone would have garnered a similar opinion of me as I worked my way through London, either by buying what I want or taking it.

“Many would say I don’t have one.”

She flips the blade back over, placing the tip on my chest. It slides across my skin, not deep enough to cut but enough to graze. The gesture is a conflict of unsettling and exhilarating. My two greatest passions are here with me, and both more in control than I am.

“We both know that isn’t true,” she whispers, leaning over and dropping a kiss over my heart. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Now, lie down and let me mark you as mine.”

I push myself backward on the bed, laying down so my head rests on the goose feather pillows. Isabella moves on top of me, her naked bottom half straddling my mid-section. She sits down, and I place my hands on her thighs.

“A little lower, Bella,” I plead. She wriggles downward, positioning her pussy over my cock. Her hips rotate a little as she slowly rides my dick. Hard, it strains against my boxers, desperate to be free and feel her nakedness against my own.

Still holding my knife, she lays it against my chest as she places her hands on my skin. Her body moves more, the motion becoming more pronounced. I watch her, all curves and breasts on top as she grinds. Stunning eyes fixed on mine, she watches every expression I make. I groan, and she flashes me a sultry smile.

“What design would you like?” she asks, picking up the blade again and waving it above her head. Her breasts, still contained barely in the bra she wears, jiggle happily. My cock jerks in anticipation. Tonight, every dream I’ve had over the past two decades is coming true.

“Preferably one that won’t kill me.”

Her face lights up as she lowers the knife back to my skin, the tip placed directly over my heart.

“You must really trust me, husband,” she says, her voice soft. “You’ve voluntarily laid down and given me the means to kill you.”

I reach up, wanting to touch her cheek, and that’s when the blade sinks into my skin. Lying back, I close my eyes as I feel my body part, giving way to the cool metal. Isabella goes rigid. When I peek through the pain, she’s staring at my chest as she carves whatever brand she chose. Once done, she takes a part of the sheet and dabs away the blood running across my chest. I look down, and the letters I.D. stare back at me. A small love heart rests above them.

“Do you like it?” she asks, the confidence of earlier gone.

“I.D?”

Her lips twist a little as her cheeks warm. “Yes, my name is Isabella Devane,” she says. “And now you have no doubt that you’ve always been mine.”

Isabella leans down and kisses my lips, the gesture tender and possibly the most intimate of my life. She continues to dab at my chest as the knife lies discarded beside me. I wrap my hands around hers, holding them between us.

“Bella,” I whisper. “Let the blood flow. I bleed for you.”

The tear lodged in her eye falls once more, and the flood gates open. She cries, throwing her body on top of mine and wrapping every inch of herself around me. With our lips locked, our kisses become more urgent. She pulls away, her mouth moving to my neck. Slowly, she moves down my body, scattering kisses as she goes, hesitating over the new brand that proves I’m hers.

Maneuvering herself between my legs, her fingers slip into the waistband of my boxers, and she pulls every item of clothing from my legs. I lift my ass to allow the material to move freely. She throws them on the floor beside us, and her attention returns to my cock, standing proud against my stomach.

Isabella gives me a dark smile before reaching for my dick. Both hands wrap around the shaft. Her mouth follows behind, dark curls falling over her face as she takes me in her mouth. Warm lips wrap around the tip then slide downward. I place my hands on her head, my fingers twisting into the curls. My cock slides smoothly, her tongue massaging as I go.

“Fucking hell, Bella,” I say with a moan. She pushes deeper, until it feels like I’m in her fucking throat. She reaches for my hands, placing hers on top and encouraging me to push down. Aware this is our first time, and that neither of us have much experience, I hesitate. She pushes again, this time firmer, so I follow her lead.

My dick goes even deeper, and I feel the familiar jerk coming close. After closing my eyes, I will myself not to come so soon. I don’t want our first time to be over before it’s begun, but it’s too late and too much when she pushes more, closing her mouth a little so I’m lodged in her grasp.

My body betrays me, and I shoot my load within ten minutes of her sucking my dick. She grunts in obvious surprise but doesn't let go. She holds on until every drop is ejected. When she eventually sits up, she bites her lip, then wipes away the trickle of my seed running from the corner of her mouth.

“That was the best wedding breakfast I’ve ever tasted,” she says sexily.

I look at the stunning woman straddling me, the one I fell in love with all those years ago, and I realized that this is it. Our chance to be happy is now. Taking her by surprise, I flip her onto her back, pinning her to the bed. She giggles, and it’s the sweetest sound.

“We have a problem, Mrs. Devane,” I tell her, and her eyebrows arch in confusion. “I am naked, and you still have some clothing in place. It feels somewhat unfair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” she teases.

“No, but I’ve become comfortable getting my own way.”

She props herself up on her elbows, and I reach around to unhook her bra. It slides free easily, and her large breasts are finally in full view. The garter belt around her waist is removed with a firm tug and she is naked beneath me. Her knees lie open, and I settle myself against her body, my cock hardening already at her entrance.

I drop my lips to her collarbone, scattering kisses over her skin, the way she did to mine. The nervousness of earlier dissipates, and we become more comfortable with each second that passes.

“I would love to fuck my wife now,” I say, moving my lips to her ear. She gasps a little, it makes me chuckle. “I’m going to slide so deep inside you, Bella. You’ll feel me for days when you walk.”

I push forward, the tip of my dick nudging her entrance. Her body gives way easily, the preparations of the previous hours coming to a head in the moment. What I can only describe as sheer pleasure takes hold as we become one. Her pussy wraps around me, my cock hardening to breaking point within seconds.

“I’m glad I lost control earlier,” I tell her, and her eyes which were closed pop open. “Because if I hadn’t already shot my load this evening, I’d be one hell of a disappointment.” She sniggers, and so do I, then my hips start to move as I finally get to have the woman who is mine. It’s been a long fucking wait, but if today is anything to go by, it’s been bloody worth it.

The next morning, we wake tangled around each other, hot sweaty bodies still unable to let go. Isabella dozes on my chest, but the change in her breathing tells me she is stirring. I reach for my phone on the side table, messaging my house staff to arrange breakfast in our room.

Isabella’s eyes blink open. She looks up at me, all black curls and white sheets. She looks like a Greek goddess laying waiting to be served.

“Morning,” she says, genuine happiness on her face.

“Morning, wife,” I tease and she grins. “How was last night for you?”

“Damn near perfect.”

“Damn near perfect?” I question, and she laughs, but before I can push for more information, the bedroom door swings open. Kasia appears armed with a tray laden with breakfast. She walks straight out to the balcony in my room.

“It’s a lovely morning,” she sings, looking completely unperturbed at finding us naked in bed. “I’ll set your breakfast outside. It’s warm enough if you wrap up.”

Isabella and I watch her pull open the doors and place everything on the table. She switches on the heater beside it, then disappears as quickly as she arrived. I get up and move over to the wardrobes, taking out two warm robes. Isabella follows behind me, and I wrap one around her. She looks warily at our meal.

“It’s December,” she mutters. “It will be freezing.”

But as she follows me outside, the unusual warmth hits our skin. I look over the garden, and everything is silent. There is only us and the fresh air.

“It is a spectacular day,” I muse.

“It is,” she replies, taking her seat. “I can’t believe we can sit outside in December.”

“And I can’t believe I’ve woken with my wife in my bed.” She looks up at me from under long lashes. “It really is the most spectacular day for a new beginning.”