Romancing Rayne

by Riley Edwards

  “Wow. I’ve seen pictures on the internet, but I never imagined it would be so colorful.”

  There was graffiti everywhere; you couldn’t see a speck of the original brick wall. We walked farther in, and there was everything from words tagged on the walls to lifelike faces, even beautiful flowers. It was amazing.

  We stopped to admire a stunning portrait of a black-haired woman with tears leaking out of the corner of one eye, her hands were clasped together by her face with the word hate spelled out over her fingers. It was poignant and sad in the most profound way.

  “Some of the art down here should be showcased in a gallery,” Ghost commented.

  “I agree.”

  We continued down the alley, stopping to watch an artist spray paint over a rather ugly looking green serpent.

  “I wonder how an artist feels when they come back to see their work and find it’s been covered over?” I whispered, not wanting to bother the man working.

  “Inspired,” the man said, stopping his handiwork to look over his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I apologized to the man. His hands were covered in paint, and his clothes weren’t fairing any better, even his face had color on it.

  “Not interrupting. It’s fabulous down here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. How does it inspire you when you find your work gone?”

  “This place is fluid,” he started. “Ever changing beauty. It’s a reminder there’s always something new to create, nothing stays the same. This piece would’ve never come to life unless I covered this god-awful snake. Don’t repeat that; no one wants to look at a slithering, green beast.” The man mocked shuttered. “Is this your first time down here, mates?”

  “Yes,” Ghost answered.

  “Aye. It’s something to see.”

  “Would you mind?” Ghost nodded toward the box of spray cans.

  “Fancy yourself an artist?”

  “Not at all. I promised my wife a scavenger hunt when we come back to London for our twenty-fifth anniversary. I’ve been leaving our mark around the city. I thought I’d leave something here as well.”

  “Take what you want.” The man turned back to his painting, leaving Ghost to rummage through the box.

  With a can of spray paint in hand, Ghost was on a mission, finally stopping when he found a place to paint without covering something important. He knelt down and in perfect lettering wrote: Princess + Ghost.

  My big, badass, Delta Force Operator husband—the romantic.

  With a nod and a thank you, we returned the can of paint back to the man and moved to the exit. Once back on the street, Ghost tucked me where he wanted me and we walked back to the hotel.

  “Thank you for writing our names in the tunnel. I’m kinda sad it won’t be there when we come back.”

  “I’m not. It means I’ll have the opportunity to write it again.”

  Ghost

  “I’m going to take a quick shower,” Rayne told me as she rummaged through her bag, presumably to find a pair of pajamas.

  “Don’t bother with clothes. You won’t need them.”

  Her lips quirked up with a small grin, and I loved the blush that bloomed across her cheeks. She’d long ago learned not to argue when I asked her not to wear clothes to bed.

  “Okay, Ghost. Give a minute to clean up and I’ll be right out.”

  The bathroom door clicked shut behind Rayne, and, unlike the first time we were in this room together, I stayed while she showered. The familiarity of the situation hit me once again as I thought about her words, clean up. Rayne was the first woman I’d ever contemplated figuring out a way to see again. She was clean and pure, and at that time in my life nothing else was. Of course, I’d walked away like a coward thinking I was doing the right thing. I should be on my knees thanking the good Lord he brought Rayne back to me. But that would mean I was grateful she’d been bound to a dirty bed and almost raped by a young Egyptian boy in some back assed, coming of age ceremony. I could never be thankful for that. The memory of her bloodied wrists and ankles shackled to the bed turned me positively murderous. I’d carried her out of that hell hole, and she’d explained he was going to rape her seven times, and if she didn’t orgasm, the process would begin again. I wasn’t a vengeful man, but as I held a semi-conscious Rayne in my arms and fled the building, I’d wished I would’ve made the boy’s death more painful.

  The sound of the shower stopped, and I quickly shook the memories away. I had new memories to make with Rayne, and they wouldn’t be sullied by the past. I needn’t have worried; the moment Rayne stepped out of the steamy bathroom, a towel wrapped around her sexy body, and one in her hands, wringing the water from her pretty, chestnut hair all I could think about was licking the remaining water droplets from her flesh.

  Feeling especially needy I stalked toward her, disrobing as I went. By the time I was in front of her, I was fully nude. With a tug on the towel, it joined my clothes on the floor, and Rayne stood completely bare.

  “Fuck, you are so beautiful.” The blush that covered her cheeks was sexy as hell. It didn’t matter how many times we’d been together this way, she was still shy and reserved. That was until I worked her up into a frenzy, then she turned into a sexy temptress. “Remember what I told you I wanted to do to you?” I waited until she nodded. “I’m hungry, Princess.” I tugged her to the bed and the second towel was discarded as she climbed on, lying in the middle on the king-sized bed. “Fucking starved, as a matter of fact.”

  I didn’t wait for her response or for her to get better situated; I had to have her with a need that burned. I pushed her thighs apart, kissing the soft skin, slowly making my way to her center. The first swipe of my tongue over her slit had my cock twitching in excitement. By the time I had her clit between my lips, I was willing myself not to come on the sheets.

  “Ghost!” Her sweet moan filled my ears and made me smile.

  “Stop teasing me.”

  Her plea had me slowing my movements. Even though slowing was something close to agony for my cock, I knew she’d come that much harder when I finally pushed her over the edge.

  I licked and sucked and nibbled all the while Rayne’s hips bucked, trying to get me to hurry.

  “I’m gonna die. You’re killing me. Please,” she groaned.

  “Dying, huh?” I lifted my head to see her watching me.

  “Yes!”

  “Reach down and hold your legs apart for me.”

  Once she had her hands where I wanted them, I teased her entrance with the tip of my finger. “Is this what you need?” I asked and pushed my finger inside.

  “Yes, more,” she begged. I pulled my finger out, added another, and quickly pumped them in and out.

  “This enough?”

  “No. I need your mouth, too.”

  “Where, Princess? Where do you want my mouth?”

  “On my clit, Ghost. Hurry.”

  I did as she asked and tongued her clit, never slowing my fingers.

  “Holy shit.”

  I found the spot I knew would drive her crazy and relentlessly rubbed, adding more pressure to her sensitive clit.

  “I’m gonna—” She didn’t finish her sentence before she screamed her pleasure. Wetness gushed over my hand, spilling onto the sheets. Filling my chest with some sort of Neanderthal pride.

  “Up you go.” I sat up on my knees, my cock relieved it wasn’t being smothered between my stomach and the bed any longer. I twisted her body, bringing her up to her knees, pushing her upper body to lay flat on the bed. She was perfectly exposed in that position. Without further warning, I lined myself up and in a single thrust I was fully inside.

  Fucking heaven.

  I looked down at her tattoo and ran my hands over the eagle, admiring the beauty of the large bird. Wing tip to wing tip it covered her lower back. Next, I traced Big Ben, then the ghost floating around the clock tower. Quiet Professionalism in beautiful script reminded me of our cosmic connection. Even bef
ore she knew what my job was, she understood. The tattoo in its entirety was a sign. One I knew then and chose to ignore, and one I now recognized and would never forget—Rayne was a gift. My gift. Made perfectly for me. And me for her. I couldn’t say I’d ever believed in soulmates before Rayne, but looking at the tattoo on her back there was no denying it. It might as well have been a huge neon sign flashing the word Ghost’s.

  Rayne’s ass wiggled, urging me to move.

  “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” I gripped her hips to keep her still.

  “You always do that. You’ve seen it a thousand times. It’s a tattoo. Please fuck me.”

  She was right, I always paused to pay homage to the mark, and it never failed to stiffen my cock when I caught a glimpse of it.

  “Your wish is my command, Princess. You better brace; this is gonna be hard.”

  “Do it, Ghost. Fuck me.”

  I set a bruising pace, my thrusts making her ass ripple every time I bottomed out. She had no idea her dirty words drove me crazy. She was so classy and proper outside of the bedroom, no one would believe my wife had such a foul mouth in the sack. She was perfect.

  “Reach down and rub your clit, Rayne,” I demanded.

  Her hand snaked down between her legs, but instead of doing what I’d asked she cupped my balls and gently rolled them.

  “Holy fuck.” In an effort to delay my orgasm, I closed my eyes as I pounded into her. She was tight and wet, and I was ready to come. It was obvious the little minx wasn’t going to do as I wanted so I moved one hand around her hip. Gathering wetness from her soaked pussy, I went to work manipulating her clit. My other hand left her waist and I slid it under her, cupping her breast. “Lift up.” She did, giving me better access. Finding her nipple, I pinched and rolled it between my fingers until I felt her pussy flutter.

  “I’m gonna come, Ghost,” she unnecessarily warned. She tightened her grip on my balls, giving them a firm tug, and I swear I saw stars.

  “Jesus,” I moaned.

  “You like when I play with your balls?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  In a wild frenzy toward completion we both continued to rub and pinch, all the while the sound of our bodies slapping together provided the perfect soundtrack. Just when I thought I was going to have to come without her, her pussy convulsed and tightened around my shaft.

  “Ghost!” she shouted and the extra wetness from her orgasm coated my cock. Heat started at the base of my spine, traveling outward until my body was consumed. With one last, hard thrust I planted deep, ropes of pleasure coursed through me as I came in a rush of euphoria.

  “I think you were trying to kill me,” I murmured.

  “What fun would that be? I still haven’t had my turn tasting you.”

  There had been no other woman, at any time in my life, that could make me come as hard as Rayne did, then two seconds later make me bust a gut laughing.

  “I don’t know what’s so funny. You said I could have whatever I wanted.”

  “Give a guy five minutes for recovery.”

  “Let’s split the difference. I’ll give you two point five. Now roll over, super-spy. I want to clean you up.”

  Rayne took advantage of my renewed laughter and moved, dislodging my cock, causing our combined come to run down her thigh and drip onto the bed. The sight sobered me, and once again I felt my cock stirring.

  “Well, well, it doesn’t look like you’ll need the time after all. Lie back and let me take care of you now.”

  I did as she said, and a heartbeat later Rayne had her sweet lips wrapped around my rapidly hardening cock.

  “Whoa.” I tossed my head back when she pushed my cock to the back of her throat.

  Up and down she went until I was fully erect. Her hand joined her mouth and squeezed the root, adding a twist on every down stroke; before long I was ready to blow.

  “Princess,” I moaned. “If you don’t slow down, this is gonna be over fast.” She didn’t slow. As a matter of fact, she sped up. Her hand followed her mouth up, adding a constant pressure around my cock, until she neared the tip and paused, swirling her tongue. “Holy shit. So good.” My praise spurred her on, and down she went. I lost her hand but gained the added benefit of her throat swallowing around the tip of my dick and that was all it took; I shot off in her mouth. Rayne continued to suck me dry. After a few slow, gentle glides of her tongue, she pulled off and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. I wasn’t sure if that was the cutest thing I’d ever seen or the most erotic. Either way, nothing compared to the beautiful smile gracing her pretty face.

  “You’re pretty satisfied with yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Any time I can make you come in under ten minutes, I consider it a win,” she replied.

  “Why’s that, Princess?”

  “Because I know you’re enjoying it.”

  “Well, if that’s what you’re gauging it by, I hate to tell you this, but two minutes with your sexy mouth latched around my cock and I’m ready to come. I spend the next eight minutes willing myself not to come so I can enjoy watching you give me head.”

  I tried not to laugh when she tossed a pillow at me.

  “Cold?” I asked when she shivered.

  “A little.”

  “Open my bag. On the top, there’s something for you to sleep in.”

  She slid off the bed and padded over to my open bag on top of the dresser. Unfortunately, it didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for, and she turned before I was done staring at her stunning ass.

  “This?” She held up a black tank top and a pair of bright purple sleep pants.

  “Yep.”

  “Why do you have these? I tossed them in the Goodwill pile last year.” She inspected her old garments and waited for me to answer.

  “I pulled them out.”

  “Why?”

  I didn’t have a good answer. I only knew when I saw them in the pile to be given away I couldn’t bear to part with them.

  “I don’t know.” I tried to blow off answering. “Hurry and come back to bed.”

  “In these? You want me to wear old sleep pants and not something sexy and pretty? It’s our honeymoon. I thought I was supposed to wear lingerie or something.”

  “You look sexy in anything. Now hurry up, woman!”

  “Not until you explain to me why in the world you saved these ugly, purple pants.”

  She wasn’t going to let this go and at the risk of sounding like a complete pussy, I had to tell her why I wanted her to wear those specific pajamas before my wife would get into bed so we could go to sleep.

  “Because the first night we were together, you wore that black tank top and those purple pants. I remember thinking how beautiful you were. You weren’t trying to look sexy or flirty—you were just being you. And I’d never, in all my life, felt so at ease. We lay in this bed.” I patted the mattress under me. “And discovered each other for the first time. You, in those pajamas. I didn’t want them thrown away.”

  The smile that appeared would’ve knocked me on my ass if I hadn’t been lying in bed.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being my prince. My fairytale. Everything I ever wanted in a partner. And for being—dare I say it—the most wonderful, dreamy husband a girl could ever hope for.”

  “You’re a nut. Put those awful pants on and get your fine ass back to bed. We have a long day tomorrow and I don’t want you to be tired.”

  “Oh, all right, Mr. Bossy Pants.”

  “I’ll show you bossy, Rayne.”

  “Sure you will, Captain.”

  Not for the first time that night Rayne had me roaring with laughter. Goddamn, she was the world’s most perfect woman.

  8

  Rayne

  “Oh my gosh, it’s . . . wow.” I looked around the central lobby of The Palace of Westminster—better known to us yanks as The House of Parliament—and was in awe. The vaulted ceiling looked to be fift
y feet high with gold everywhere. There were no words to describe the chandelier that hung high above our heads.

  “It’s pretty impressive,” Ghost said, taking in the sights as well.

  “What are those?” I pointed to one of the four, very large designs above each archway.

  “Each of the mosaic panels represent the Patron Saint for each of the four countries that make up the United Kingdom. England, Wales, Northern Ireland, and Scotland.”

  “And what are the statues that surround the archways?”

  “Those are the Kings and Queens from England and Scotland. I believe starting from Edward the First going forward.”

  “I bet this tile floor is hard to keep dry with all the rain they have here. It has to be an accident waiting to happen.”

  “Come on, Princess, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Ghost tugged my hand, and I reluctantly followed. I could’ve stood in the middle of the lobby, spinning in circles, all day and still couldn’t have absorbed all of the beauty and history in the room.

  Standing off to the side of the reception desk was a very large man dressed in a black suit. His scowl turned into a smile as we approached.

  “Sparky,” Ghost said, stopping in front of the man and offered his hand.

  The man chuckled before he grabbed Ghost’s hand, shaking vigorously and pulling him in for a man hug, complete with a hard slap on the back.

  “Ghost. Good to see you, mate.”

  “Oliver, this is my wife, Rayne.”

  “A pleasure to meet the woman who can put up with this here, bloke.”

  “Nice to meet you, Oliver.”

  “If you two are finished looking around the Central Lobby, we’ll start our tour.”

  “Tour?” I looked to Ghost, then around the area and didn’t see any people gathered around waiting. “Do we have tickets?”

  “No ticket needed for our tour, ma’am.”

  “Oliver’s gonna give us a special, behind-the-scenes tour. I thought you might like to see the Chamber rooms.”

  “Oh my God, yes. Are we allowed, or are you bribing people again?”