by Shandi Boyes
Guilt makes it hard for me to secure a full breath. “I shouldn’t have asked that question. I shouldn’t have forced you to share. I’m sorry, Isaac.”
He pulls me back by the shoulders, the pain in his eyes doubling when he spots the tears cascading down my face. He treks his fingers across my cheeks, removing my tears before locking his eyes with mine. “Instead of being sorry, I need you to remember I was hurting when I made my next decision. When I made it, I never thought someone like you would come into my life. I never thought I'd have these feelings again.”
Pain maims my heart from peering into his unguarded eyes. He's the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen—unguarded, open, and raw.
“Promise me you won’t run.”
“I’ll never run from you.” I’m tired of running.
“Promise me.” His eyes relay his command is more of a plea.
The ache in my heart amplifies. “I promise. Whatever it is, we’ll survive it. We can survive anything.”
We’ve already survived death threats, a deranged stalker, two arrests, an alleged affair, and a kidnapping. If we can survive that, we can survive anything.
He lifts my hands to his mouth and kisses each palm before placing them over his heart. “I love you, too,” I reply, finally intuiting what his gesture means.
The last time he spoke those three words, the woman he loved died, so I understand and accept he may never articulate that he loves me, but his actions will more than make up for it.
“When Ophelia died, no one knew about the baby, only me.” He looks up at me, “And now you.”
My heart warms, pleased he trusts me enough to share guarded secrets.
“I never wanted to experience that type of loss ever again, so I took measures to ensure there were no possibilities of it happening again.”
My brows furrow, confused by his statement.
It takes a few moments staring into his remorseful eyes for lucidity to hit.
Oh, my God. “You're sterile?”
“Yes,” Isaac replies with a curt nod of his head. “That’s how I met Jae and Avery. Jae refused to do the procedure until I underwent an extensive psychiatric assessment since I was under the age of twenty-two and not a father. Avery was the doctor assigned to my case. Several heated arguments later, and the procedure was completed according to my wishes.”
We sit across from each other, staring, but not speaking. I try to formulate a response to his confession, but I’m stumped on how to reply. Am I hurt he kept this from me? That’s a tough question. Half of me says yes, he should’ve been upfront and honest from the beginning, but the other half says no because it doesn’t change the way I feel about him. And if I’m totally honest, even if I knew from the very beginning, nothing would have kept me away from him.
I wasn’t raised by my father, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t loved. My Uncle Tobias was a wonderful man with a ginormous heart. He loved me enough that I didn’t need anyone in my life but him. Also, what Hugo said weeks ago is true. Family doesn’t necessarily mean people who are blood-related. It’s the people you choose to be a part of your family who are the most important.
I capture Isaac’s cheeks in my hands and stare into his hardened eyes. “Thank you for being honest with me, but it doesn’t change anything between us. There are thousands of children in the world who need a loving family. One day, if we decide we want to have a family, there are plenty of options available for us. If not, I get to keep you all to my greedy self.” I say the last sentence over-dramatically, wanting to wash away the worry marring his handsome face.
He laughs and firms his grip on my waist. “There's only one greedy orifice in your body, Isabelle. It isn’t your heart.”
I screw up my nose and stick out my tongue, immaturely denying his bold statement. When I feel him stiffening beneath me, I realize his declaration is entirely accurate. I can’t help it. I'm beyond being helped when it comes to him. My body craves his touch, his attention—every inch of him.
I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing. Our sexual chemistry isn’t our only connection. If it were, we wouldn’t have made it over all the hurdles we’ve endured the past few months. We would have cut our losses and moved on, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, but we both know our relationship is worth the sacrifices we ‘ve sustained, and we’ll only grow from here.
“You have two questions left,” Isaac says, breaking me from my thoughts.
I purse my lips while trying to think of a less imposing question than my last. He waits impatiently, tapping his index fingers on my backside.
“What’s the longest period you’ve gone without sexual contact?”
The instant the question escapes my lips, I want to ram it back down my throat. Jealousy has always been a curse of mine. Just thinking about him with another woman has my claws out and ready to be sharpened.
Isaac coughs to clear his throat. “What’s the longest we’ve been separated?”
“Thirty-four days.” Thirty-four days of pure, gut-wrenching hell.
His shoulders square. “Thirty-four days.”
I groan in disgust before I attempt to move off him. Jealousy is hitting me in the gut, brutally wounding me. He grips my thighs and pulls me back onto his lap. Huffing, I shift my gaze to the side of the room, striving to rope my jealousy back in. Even though it’s illogical to believe there was no one before me, I prefer to live with my head in the clouds when it comes to stuff like this. I hate the thought of Isaac with anyone else. Hate it. I can’t stand the idea of anyone experiencing what I’ve experienced with him.
Isaac grips my chin to carefully angle my head back to him. “You wanted to open this bag of worms, so we’re opening it.” He glances up at me with remorseful eyes. “I didn’t know you existed. If I had, I would’ve never stopped looking until I found you.”
The truth of his statement is relayed in his beautiful eyes. It eases my agitation and spreads warmth blooming across my chest.
“This will make me sound like a chauvinistic pig, and rightfully so, it should.” He inhales a quick breath. “Before you, they meant nothing. I simply saw women as a vessel for pleasure. Although they left my apartment satisfied, I wouldn’t have been bothered if they didn’t. I wasn’t with them to create memories. I was with them to release tension. When I achieved that, I left, leaving Catherine with the chore of kicking them out.”
You’d think his statement would cause virulent jealousy to resurface, but it doesn’t. His eyes are full of remorse, and he looks genuinely embarrassed for the way he behaved. I can also appreciate that he is not being evasive, even knowing he isn’t portraying himself in an amiable manner.
He's never hidden the fact he wasn’t looking for a relationship, so it’s understandable he saw sex as just that—sex. He wasn’t issuing false promises. He didn’t offer commitment. All he proposed was his body for the night. So although there may have been women before me, from now on, there will only be me.
“And I’ll never want or need anyone else,” Isaac mutters to my quiet ramblings. “I have a hard enough time keeping up with your insatiable demands to add anyone else into the mix.”
I cock my brow, faking annoyance. “I never heard a complaint seep from your lips.”
“And you never will,” he replies in a deep, provocative rumble.
Pleasure dashes down my spine when he tilts his hips, grinding his cock against my bare pussy.
“Your body was built to be pleasured, Isabelle, and I’m going to make sure it’s every whim and desire is taken care of for the rest of my life. This…” he gestures his hand between us, “… is different than anything I’ve experienced before. I want to pleasure you. I love pleasuring you. I’ll never stop pleasuring you.”
My heart skips a beat as my pussy pulses. “Can we start that pleasuring now?”
He smirks. “Is that your third and final question for the night?”
“If your answer is yes, it will be.”
He chuckles
against my mouth before sealing his plump lips over mine.
The following morning, a groan erupts from my mouth as I lift my arms out of the comforter to stretch my tired muscles. My aching joints aren’t from sexual exhaustion. They're from sexual frustration. Although Isaac’s kisses alone have my orgasm dangerously dangling off a cliff, I crave more, but no matter how much I plead, Isaac won’t take our usually combustible encounters to the next level, afraid I may experience more of the side effects I’ve been suffering from since my concussion.
My muscles are aching because every fiber in my body is coiled tight, ready to snap, eagerly anticipating being unraveled by his talented fingers, tongue, and formidable male appendage. Before Isaac, sex was available, but I never saw it as a necessity. I could go months without it, and my inner vixen wasn’t hankering to seek out a mate. Whereas now, it’s like I’m a sex addict. I’m just not addicted to sex. I’m addicted to Isaac.
Dragging my fingers through my hair, I secure it into a messy bun before ambling out of the room to find Isaac. Unsurprisingly, I find him in his home office talking on his cell phone. He's dressed down in low-hanging blue jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. His feet are bare, and his hair is wet and overdue for a trim. When he spots me leaning in the doorjamb, his eyes rake my body before he gestures for me to enter. The spark of lust in his eyes has my pulse quickening and my steps hurried.
“Henry, I have to go. I’ll work something out and get back to you before the end of the week.”
Not waiting for Henry to reply, Isaac disconnects his call and throws his cell onto his desk. He looks tired, but I know it isn’t from lack of sleep. We secured eight hours last night. It’s stress from all the tumultuous tasks he’s undertaking.
I move around his desk, skirting past the hand he's holding out in offering to stand behind his office chair. I knead my palms into his shoulders, hoping to massage out some of the knots formed there. A tingle runs down my spine when a low growl seeps from Isaac’s lips.
“Does it feel good?”
He moans. “It always feels good when you’re touching me.”
A smile tugs on my lips as I continue working on his tension. Over time, the tightness of his shoulders lessens, and the worry lines on his face fade.
A girlie squeal whizzes from my lips when, in one swift movement, he spins around, seizes my wrist, and pulls me onto his lap. All immature giggling halts the instant he seals his mouth over mine. His kiss is lush, deep, and toe-curling good.
“I’ll have to start working from my home office more often,” he murmurs over my tingling mouth.
When he runs his index finger along the hemline of my cotton t-shirt, goosebumps track the path his finger makes. Our combined groans echo around his office when his finger slips off the material to fleetingly brush my bare pussy.
“I’m definitely working from home more often,” he reiterates, licking his lips.
Since I was eager to find him, I didn’t bother putting on any panties, leaving his room in only the short-sleeve shirt he dressed me in last night. When his eyes lift to mine, my libido awakens. There's an avid gleam in his eyes, exposing his usually impenetrable qualm is faltering.
I swivel my hips, shamelessly grinding my ass on his thickening cock. My head falls to his shoulder when his finger sinks into my pussy in one fluid motion. He keeps his strokes at a leisurely pace—gentle, yet tantalizing. Every hair on my body bristles, ecstatic he's finally touching me. It’s been weeks since his talented fingers have tightened the coils of my womb, so I’ll take them any way I can get them.
His kiss steals my soft pants when his tongue delves into my mouth in a rhythm matching the grinds of his finger. I drink him in, absorbing his tasteful mouth. Our kiss is slow and enticing, surging my excitement to new heights. This may sound crude, but when Isaac and I have sex, we generally fuck. This is different—today he isn’t fucking me, he's making love to me—with his fingers.
I grind my backside along his throbbing cock, wishing I wasn’t seated in his lap so I could return the arousing experience. The pad of Isaac’s palm adds a nice amount of pressure to my clit, sending a shiver of pleasure through my body that clusters in my needy sex. Every slow and precise thrust of his fingers has the excitement of my imminent climax sweeping through my body. My heavy pants increase along with the rhythm of his fingers.
The louder I moan, the faster Isaac’s pumps become. And so, the vicarious cycle commences. I pant harder, and he finger-fucks me more viciously.
My orgasm is hanging by a thin string, every fiber in my body coiled and ready to snap when a doorbell buzzes in the distance. No!
“Fuck,” Isaac mutters under his breath before slipping his gifted finger out of my body.
I freeze when his primal, lust-riddled eyes stare at me. “Did I hurt you? Do you have a headache? Are you dizzy?” His voice is deep, rough, and sexy as sin, but his tone relays his disappointment at not being able to rein in his usually unshakable presence.
“I’m fine.” I’m inwardly cursing obscenities at the top of my lungs, but I’m fine, nonetheless.
He arches his brow as his eyes assess mine, seeking any untruth in them. Relief filters through them when he realizes the only injury I'm concealing is a bruised ego.
He stands from his chair, taking me with him. “I arranged for Jae to come and assess you before she starts her shift at the hospital.” He places me on my feet before his gaze lifts to mine. “But it slipped my mind when I somehow got distracted.”
My core clenches when his heavy-lidded gaze runs down my body. The intense tingle of my pussy amplifies when he pops his finger into his mouth to lick off the evidence of my arousal. A growl rumbles from his throat when he tastes my excitement on his tongue. His composure slips before my eyes as rampant hunger clouds his gaze.
Just as he steps toward me like a panther on the prowl, the doorbell shrills again.
Chapter 14
Isaac
A doorbell buzzing momentarily breaks the intangible spell Isabelle always incites when she's in my vicinity. My astuteness falters the instant she enters the room. The power she has over me is astounding, and if I'm being forthright, utterly frightening, but last night proved without a doubt that asking for her hand in marriage was one of the most intellectual endeavors I’ve ever undertaken. I revealed snippets of myself to her that nobody else knows, and instead of being judgmental, she was supportive and understanding like she comprehended why, at that time in my life, I made the decision I made.
Which once again corroborates my claim that she knows me better than anyone. She's unraveling me one layer at a time, and even when she exposes parts of my life that are clouded in a dark shadow, she evaluates the situation instead of making a hasty decision. Once her curiosity is satisfied, we move on, then her pursuit of unmasking me continues.
My eyes stray to Isabelle. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are wide, and she's fiddling with the hem of her shirt, attempting to pretend she wasn’t just sitting on the brink of a climax.
“Go get dressed, then come meet Jae and me in the living room.” My voice is rough as I fight the urge to claim her body on my desk.
“That’s not fair.” She places a kiss to my mouth. “Tell Jae I’ll be a few minutes,” she whispers against my lips, staring up at me. “Because I need to finish what you started.” She grins a wicked smile, baiting me and my gigantic ego.
Unable to leash my domineering nature, I seize her wrist, then pull her back to me. Any protests attempting to spill from her mouth are halted when my tongue lashes her gaped lips before it plunges between them. A husky moan rolls up her chest when she tastes herself on my tongue. When I band my arms around her waist, the heat of her pussy has my cock jumping in my jeans.
A whimper seeps from her swollen red lips when I inch back from our embrace. I stare into her glistening eyes, my chest puffed high. “Every moan that flows from your lips, every orgasm that shreds through your body, and every drop of cum from your greedy pussy belong t
o me.”
Her breathing hastens as the scent of her arousal filters in the air.
“This mouth…” I kiss her plump cupid’s bow lips, “… belongs to me. These tits…” I thrum my index finger over her erect nipples budded against her shirt, hard and begging to be touched, “… belong to me.” When I cup her pussy, her knees buckle, and a moan seeps from her lips. “And this, and any pleasure it craves, most certainly belongs to me.” I stare into her heavy-lidded gaze. “Say it, Isabelle. Say it, then I’ll let you come.”
“It belongs to you. It all belongs to you. I belong to you.”
I spin her around, pull her luscious ass back until it’s pressed against my stiff shaft, then slip two fingers inside of her, ensuring I find the sweet spot that causes the most earth-shattering screams to be torn from her throat.
After circling my thumb over her clit, I muffle her cries of ecstasy with my hand, not wanting her screams to startle Catherine, who arrived earlier this morning. I pump in and out of her on repeat while whispering dirty thoughts into her ear. I tell her how I’m going to fuck her, where I’m going to fuck her, and how long I’m going to fuck her as soon as Jae gives her the all-clear.
A few moments later, her pussy clenches around my fingers and my hand slicks with her arousal. Her thighs quiver as a ferocious orgasm shreds through her body so hard and fast, her knees buckle. I sink my teeth into her shoulder blade before slowing the pumps of my fingers, guiding her down from her toe-curling orgasm with a tenderness I didn’t use to bring it on.
Once her cries of ecstasy lessen, I scoop her into my arms before striding to the master suite. After placing her on the bed, I enter the bathroom to get a washcloth.
While cleaning the residue of her arousal off her thighs, and internally battling not to sink my stone-hard cock into her glistening pussy, Isabelle’s back lurches off the bed. “Jae!” she shouts, suddenly remembering we have guests.
I chuckle, glad I’m not the only one who loses all restraint when we're together.
