Page 25 of Bedeviled

He smiles at the challenge in my voice, looking as though he thoroughly relishes my disobedience. I know I do. This is playful. Light. Keeping sex right here is exactly what I want. I suppose I could even ignore my feminism long enough to take a few orders.

“Wrap your legs around my waist, like I know you want to,” he commands.

I do so, the action causing Memnon’s cock to breach my opening. I suck in a breath as I feel the tip of him begin to stretch me.

I glance down, but all I see is the delicate, filmy tulle of my dress.

“Look at me,” he coaxes, “and I’ll give you more.”

My gaze flicks back to his.

“There’s my wife,” Memnon murmurs, his lips curving up at their edges.

My skin puckers at that term. I’m still not used to it despite the numerous times he’s said it in the last few hours.

Drinking in my expression, Memnon shifts his hips and sinks his cock deeper into me.

My hands squeeze his at the pressure and stretch of him filling me.

“Good?” he asks.

I nod, licking my lips. Too good. I can feel myself fluttering and tightening around him.

He bites his lower lip, and with a few locks of his hair slipping forward, the action is so goddess-damned sexy.

And still we stare at each other. My heart thunders at the eye contact. I can sense my feelings gathering, swelling. Our past rushes forward, pressing in like no time at all has lapsed. Just him and me and this endless love between us.

If I could touch his cheek, I would. I’d trace his scar like it were some sacred path, and I’d marvel in it, in him.

These terrifying, horrid emotions.

Blessedly, I get a reprieve when Memnon sinks himself fully into me and closes his eyes.

“This is where I’m supposed to be,” he murmurs. “The feel of your pussy clenched tightly around me.” He opens his eyes then, and all that blazing focus is right back on me. “Gods, but what it does to my mind!”

I don’t admit what he’s doing to my mind, how each bit of worshipful praise lights me on fire.

Memnon releases one of my hands so he can press his palm against my back and draw me up to him. He takes a nipple into his mouth, and I let out a shameless moan, threading my fingers through his hair.

The two of us find a rhythm, and damnit, but it’s a slow, agonizing one. And Memnon is back to looking at me wondrously, taking in every subtle shift in my expression.

I don’t know what my expression is, but if the soft, disturbingly gooey emotions I feel are any indicator, I must be giving him an equally worshipful look.

My hands slide over his toned back, my power slipping out. “Faster,” I beg. I want friction and skin slapping skin. I don’t want long, loving looks and this inescapable emotional intensity.

Surprisingly, Memnon does speed up his pace, his cock dragging in and out of me. And now there is this delicious building pressure and friction.

Unfortunately, rather than distract me from this rising emotion inside me, it only serves to amplify it.

I swallow, staring up at him. I know he must see my heart in my eyes. I am afraid of this feeling welling up in me. It’s too big to hold in my bones, and I’m certain that, if I let it, it will devour me from the inside out.

But I can’t deny it all the same.

“I love you,” I whisper.

Memnon grins so large it seems to split his face wide open. He’s ferociously beautiful.

His expression gentles, his eyes looking deep and soulful. “My queen, my little witch. My wife. Te amo in aeternum.”