Page 73 of Prince of Control

I laugh as he follows me up. “Not a roof?”

He takes my hand and ushers me to the window, steadying me as I climb in. “Too risky.” He suddenly sobers. “I’m not losing you.”

My heart flops in my chest. My tragedy-tainted husband will probably always worry about keeping me safe.

The truth is, I feel completely safe with him. I was afraid at first because I don’t understand why I’m here, and I’m still mad at him for not telling me, but I believe Baron will keep me safe, whatever comes.

“I’m always safe with you,” I murmur.

Baron

She’s falling in love with me.

My heart stretches and sings. It’s sooner than I hoped. More than I expected. As soon as we get inside, I pick her up and pin her against the wall, kissing the Hell out of her.

She bites my lower lip and tugs. “I thought you said on the bed.”

I press the bulge of my cock against the notch between her legs. “Is it too vanilla? I don’t want you to think I’m boring.”

She laughs with her head thrown back. “Impossible.” She pronounces the word in French instead of English.

“Oh, that’s hot, malyshka. Speak to me in French.”

She lets out a string of French as I lower her to her feet and peel her shirt off.

“Take your pants off,” I say as I unbutton my own. I left my tank top out on the roof, but I don’t care.

She reaches for my jeans. “I’m going to take your pants off.”

My dick, already straining at the zipper, gets even harder. I thought my wife submitting to my domination was hot, but there’s nothing hotter than her initiating sex.

She sucks in her lower lip and holds my gaze as she drags my zipper down.

I let out a rough breath when she frees my erection. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of both my jeans and boxers and slides them down my legs.

My cock stands at full attention, already dripping pre-cum from the tip.

Lara grips the base of my cock and squeezes, lengthening my erection. She holds it up and licks my balls, gently sucking first one into her mouth then the other.

I groan, and the sound has a pained rasp to it. “That’s so good, malysh. You’re killing me.”

She trails her tongue along the underside of my cock and swirls it around the rim. Then, in one smooth motion, she engulfs the entire head and slides my cock into the pocket of her cheek.

“Fuck, baby. That’s so good,” I praise her, my fingers sliding into her hair. I alternate massaging her scalp and closing my fingers into a fist and tugging gently, and she starts to hum around my cock.

The leash on my control starts to slip. She’s more than killing me. I’m already dead. I’ve had a lot of sex for a guy my age–I started young, and I’ve experimented a lot–but nothing compares to this moment.

It’s not her technique although that’s great. It’s Lara. Her willingness. Her beautiful, generous heart. Her capacity to forgive me for forcing her into this marriage. The tears she cried for me out on the roof.

It’s knowing we’re going to last. We’re going to make it. She’s wearing my ring, and I’m winning her heart.

I’ve accomplished a lot at Thornecroft, but I’d throw it all away for this. My beautiful wife on her knees at my feet, giving me pleasure.

I control her movements, pulling her mouth over my cock faster, making her take me deeper. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t protest. She holds onto my hips, her nails scoring my ass.

“Naked,” I manage to grunt. I’m on the edge of coming down her throat, but I want her to come with me. “I need you naked right now.” I try to make my voice stern, but it only sounds desperate.

Hell, I am desperate.