Page 85 of Bartered Innocence

Isabelle laughs softly. I slide my hands up and pull the top of her dress down, palming her breasts. My fingers twist her pebbled nipples before I lean down and suck them into my mouth. She moans, arching into my face, and her hands work faster to pull my cock out.

When she lifts on her knees, I push her dress up to her hips before cupping her ass in a rough squeeze. It rips with the movement, and a soft laugh tumbles out of me. She lines my cock up to her bare pussy with her panties tugged to the side and both of us groan as she sinks down.

“I liked this dress,” she rasps as soon as I’m sheathed completely and she’s shifting side to side to accommodate my whole cock. My fingers caress her thighs before moving up her back and shoving off the shredded dress. Isabelle in only panties with my cross hanging between her breasts nearly has me losing my self-control and spilling inside her.

“I’ll buy you more,” I tell her and thrust up, forcing myself deeper. She groans and her nails dig into me, but I don’t feel the pain as she raises onto her knees and drops down on my cock. I shiver when her nails scrape against my neck and up to the back of my head.

“You feel good like this.” Her words sink into my jaw as she kisses along it.

“I have so much more to show you, love.”

I can feel the curve of her smile on my skin, her pussy tightening around me. My eyes roll back as she rides my cock and my hand roams her body, needing more. I grab the back of her neck and pull her to my mouth, kissing her with everything I have. Her breasts rub against my shirt as she keeps fucking me, squeezing my hardness with her cunt.

Her head tilts back as her breathing is choppy. She rolls her hips in quick jerks. I knead her ass and pull her toward me as I thrust into her.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” I say on a groan, loving the feeling of being buried raw in her tight heat. There’s never been a greater feeling than coming inside my wife. “Get there with me, Isabelle. Touch yourself.”

Sweet whimpers fall out of her mouth as her trembling hand moves between us. I know the moment she circles her clit from the way her pussy constricts around my cock. I grit my teeth, fucking her harder and loving the cries coming from her mouth with each deep thrust.

A few more strokes and she moans, tremors rolling through her as she comes. The ecstasy etched on her face sets mine off. A deep groan roars out of my throat as my cock empties inside her. My cum fills her pussy, hope blooming in my chest that this is the time it takes root and she gets pregnant.

Isabelle pants, dropping her forehead against mine. Our lips brush as we exchange breaths. “Rian…”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think I want to be involved with the brotherhood as much as I thought.”

I tense at her confession. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes shine with tears. “I don’t—I just want to cook…and be home with our kids. I don’t?—”

“You don’t want a life of blood and death?”

She nods. “At least not one I can see.”

I tuck her hair behind her ear and grasp her chin to pull her into a brief kiss. “I’d prefer that anyway.”

“But you still have to come home to me every night.”

My chest warms at her demand, and I try to blink away the stinging in my eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

* * *

Today Isabelle decided we would spend most of our time with my father, and I didn’t have the heart to decline her request. It’s hard to see my father so weak, but I know he strives for moments of peace without anyone around. Sometimes I fear he hopes he passes in those moments. He’s made comments about how much he sees the effect my wife has on me and my brothers, how we’ll be in good hands, as if he’s ready to move on.

Her parents are still shaken up and they’ve barricaded themselves in the penthouse I provided in Jersey City, only allowing Ricky to come and go. It hurts Isabelle more than I know she’s letting on that they won’t move in, but everything they’ve believed has been stripped from them, so I’m focusing on keeping her happy.

“One Christmas, he snuck down thinking he was going to catch Santa. Stayed up as long as he could until he damn near pissed himself. She locked him in the bathroom.” My father breaks out into a cackle as I smile.

Isabelle laughs, looking over at me. “I’m assuming then she put all the presents under the tree?”

He nods. “But first she played some music on the speaker, right next to the door so he couldn’t hear anything. Then she took it a step further, spread some wheat bundles all over the floor, chewed up some carrots and spit them out. Left a note for him to clean up the reindeer mess since he tried to be naughty.”

She gasps and then laughs again. “Oh my god. I can only imagine how upset little Rian was about that.”

My father sighs. “She stood right next to him and helped him, assured him that Santa wasn’t upset.”

“And when you found out the truth about who locked you in the bathroom?” she teases me.

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