Page 104 of Stolen Vows

Then she tips up onto her toes and whispers, “Play with me, husband.”

And then she’s gone.

For a single heartbeat, I sit frozen. Stunned. Francesca’s words echo in my head, bouncing around my skull like a pinball.Play with me, husband.

And then it clicks. The chase. The hunt. She wants me to catch her.

A slow, feral grin spreads across my face as I launch out of my chair. My heart pounds against my ribs, adrenaline surging through my veins as I stalk out of my office and into the hallway.

I pause, head cocked, listening for any sign of her. The house is quiet, but I can feel her presence like a physical thing, electric and alive. My pulse thrums in my ears as I move down the hallway, every sense heightened, attuned to any hint of movement or sound.

I check her bedroom first, but it’s empty, the sheets rumpled from where she was lying earlier. The attached bathroom is dark, silent. Romeo snores softly from his kennel in the closet, a low white noise machine his sound buffer.

I inhale deeply, catching a whiff of her scent lingering in the air. Vanilla and sugared lemons. Fucking delicious.

I stalk out of her room, moving silently through the upstairs hallway. Anticipation coils tight in my gut, every muscle tensed and ready. She’s here, somewhere in our house, waiting for me to find her. To catch her.

The thought sends a dark thrill racing down my spine.

“Do you like this game, wife?”

I pause at the top of the stairs, my hand curling around the banister. I close my eyes and just listen, letting my other senses take over. The faint hum of the air conditioner. The distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.

And then I hear it. The softest creak of a floorboard downstairs. My eyes snap open, zeroing in on the direction of the sound. The kitchen.

A slow smile spreads across my face as I descend the stairs, each step deliberate but not silent. I’m not sure, but I think part of the fun is her hearing me coming for her. Building up her anticipation and excitement.

I prowl into the kitchen, the scent of vanilla and lemon growing stronger. She’s close now.

“In the book, this is the part where the heroine was thinking about how good it will feel once he catches her, how hard she’s going to come when he buries his face in her pussy. Is that what you’re thinking about, sunshine? Are you dreaming of the way my tongue will feel inside your cunt when I find you?”

My words hang heavy in the air, the only sound my measured footsteps as I stalk further into the kitchen. The lights are off, but moonlight filters in through the windows, casting everything in a silvery glow.

I pause, head cocked, listening intently. That’s when I hear it. The hitch of her breath, the rustle of fabric. She’s close, so close. I can practically taste her anticipation, feel the thrumming of her pulse in the charged space between us.

“All those nights of watching you play with your toys. Wishing it was my cock instead.” I stalk through the living room. “Do you know how many times I replayed those images in my mind?”

I pause at the entrance to the dining room, my eyes scanning the shadows. “How many times I imagined the sounds you’d make with my head between your thighs, my tongue buried inside you?”

A soft whimper echoes from the far corner, muffled like she’s trying to stifle it. But I hear it all the same.

“Is that what you want, wife? You want to see how many times I can make you come on my tongue?”

My lips curve in a wicked grin as I zero in on the sound. I prowl across the dining room, lust soaring through my veins. She’s tucked against the wall, partially hidden behind the couch. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, golden eyes wide and bright in the moonlight. I drink in the sight of her, all tousled hair and flushed cheeks, looking like every fantasy come to life.

“Hello, wife.”

35

FRANCESCA

His words curl around me,dark and seductive. A shiver races down my spine and lust warms my veins.

I press my back against the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs as I glance up at my husband. Moonlight gilds the hard planes of his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the predatory glint in his eyes. He looks like something out of my darkest, most delicious fantasies. A wolf on the hunt, stalking his prey.

I’ve never wanted to be prey more in my life.

He crouches down, planting one hand on the wall beside my head. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense. “Found you.”

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