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Authors: Nadia Aidan
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flesh until he once again hovered above her.
Their gazes clashed, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the crystal beads that glistened on her long lashes. Cupping her chin, he whispered those two words of apology again then he dipped his head, claiming her lips with his.
His kissed her deeply, almost reverently as he let his body convey the depth of his apology. With his lips, his hands, he worshipped her until she writhed and panted beneath him. Her thighs fell apart, and he settled between them, the hard jutting length of his cock pressing against her dripping slit.
As he pushed inside her soft, wet body, he knew everything between them had changed. He made love to her slowly, lovingly, like a lover who cherished his woman would. He closed his eyes and drove deeper inside her, knowing that was exactly what he was—her lover, and tonight there was no doubt that he cherished her. The revelation ate at him. After all she’d cost him, he was still besotted with her, but there was no point in denying it any longer.
Her soft curves cushioned him as he thrust into her harder, his cock tunnelling deeper. She clenched her eyes tighter as she shattered around him, her dewy sheath filling up with the juices of her climax as she cried out his name on a ragged moan, her nails digging into his shoulders.
He was powerless to stop the heady rush of pleasure that surged through him, as her pussy clamped down hard on his shaft. He shoved his length into her on one, two, three strokes before he erupted.
“I hate that I still want you so desperately, that I’m still so weak when it comes to you,” he breathed against her neck on a shattered cry as he pumped her body full of his seed, the words tortured as if they’d been wrenched from his very soul.
He slumped against her, and when he could finally breathe, he rolled off her, pulling her into the circle of his arms. Neither of them spoke because neither of them knew the right words to say. They simply laid there, holding each other, until sleep finally claimed them both.
* * * *
Cherie fumed. “I am not your wife.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Well then, why do you have a list of chores here for me to do,” she railed at him, shaking the piece of paper she’d discovered beside her bed that morning.
Shane’s lips thinned into a tight line, and she could tell she was trying his patience. “Because the terms of your sentence state that you are to serve all my needs, and that includes cooking, cleaning and pleasing me anytime I so desire.”
She didn’t miss how his eyes flashed with lust, but she ignored the answering heat in her belly.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I have a brothel to run.”
“I haven’t forgotten, but I suggest you turn over those duties to someone else for now, because I imagine you’re going to be too busy ironing my shirts, cooking my food and warming my bed.”
Those had been Shane’s final words before he’d stomped out of his home for work that day three months ago.
Cherie stopped in the middle of ironing one his work shirts, a wry smile on her face as she recalled their argument. That day the thought of being his domestic servant had made her hackles stand on end. But now? Now, things weren’t so bad.
She’d turned over the everyday running of Every Desire to Eliza, who’d been there almost since the day doors opened was one of the few she trusted to keep things in order, while she went in once a week to manage the books. The rest of her time was spent playing house with Shane, and they had somehow slipped into a routine which, surprisingly, she didn’t resent. Actually quite the opposite. She liked the steady, normality of her life, and for once, she wasn’t antsy or bored.
Her first task had been redecorating, and she’d enjoyed that immensely, although, it was taking Shane a bit more time to adjust to the new look, she thought with a wicked grin. But they both knew his home had needed a woman’s touch. She’d
Their gazes clashed, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the crystal beads that glistened on her long lashes. Cupping her chin, he whispered those two words of apology again then he dipped his head, claiming her lips with his.
His kissed her deeply, almost reverently as he let his body convey the depth of his apology. With his lips, his hands, he worshipped her until she writhed and panted beneath him. Her thighs fell apart, and he settled between them, the hard jutting length of his cock pressing against her dripping slit.
As he pushed inside her soft, wet body, he knew everything between them had changed. He made love to her slowly, lovingly, like a lover who cherished his woman would. He closed his eyes and drove deeper inside her, knowing that was exactly what he was—her lover, and tonight there was no doubt that he cherished her. The revelation ate at him. After all she’d cost him, he was still besotted with her, but there was no point in denying it any longer.
Her soft curves cushioned him as he thrust into her harder, his cock tunnelling deeper. She clenched her eyes tighter as she shattered around him, her dewy sheath filling up with the juices of her climax as she cried out his name on a ragged moan, her nails digging into his shoulders.
He was powerless to stop the heady rush of pleasure that surged through him, as her pussy clamped down hard on his shaft. He shoved his length into her on one, two, three strokes before he erupted.
“I hate that I still want you so desperately, that I’m still so weak when it comes to you,” he breathed against her neck on a shattered cry as he pumped her body full of his seed, the words tortured as if they’d been wrenched from his very soul.
He slumped against her, and when he could finally breathe, he rolled off her, pulling her into the circle of his arms. Neither of them spoke because neither of them knew the right words to say. They simply laid there, holding each other, until sleep finally claimed them both.
* * * *
Cherie fumed. “I am not your wife.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Well then, why do you have a list of chores here for me to do,” she railed at him, shaking the piece of paper she’d discovered beside her bed that morning.
Shane’s lips thinned into a tight line, and she could tell she was trying his patience. “Because the terms of your sentence state that you are to serve all my needs, and that includes cooking, cleaning and pleasing me anytime I so desire.”
She didn’t miss how his eyes flashed with lust, but she ignored the answering heat in her belly.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I have a brothel to run.”
“I haven’t forgotten, but I suggest you turn over those duties to someone else for now, because I imagine you’re going to be too busy ironing my shirts, cooking my food and warming my bed.”
Those had been Shane’s final words before he’d stomped out of his home for work that day three months ago.
Cherie stopped in the middle of ironing one his work shirts, a wry smile on her face as she recalled their argument. That day the thought of being his domestic servant had made her hackles stand on end. But now? Now, things weren’t so bad.
She’d turned over the everyday running of Every Desire to Eliza, who’d been there almost since the day doors opened was one of the few she trusted to keep things in order, while she went in once a week to manage the books. The rest of her time was spent playing house with Shane, and they had somehow slipped into a routine which, surprisingly, she didn’t resent. Actually quite the opposite. She liked the steady, normality of her life, and for once, she wasn’t antsy or bored.
Her first task had been redecorating, and she’d enjoyed that immensely, although, it was taking Shane a bit more time to adjust to the new look, she thought with a wicked grin. But they both knew his home had needed a woman’s touch. She’d
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