Page 173 of Bride By Coronation

I close my eyes, fighting too many years of self-loathing and shame.

She can't love me.

I'm hearing things.

"Look at me," she orders.

I obey, blinking hard.

She tilts her head, studying me, and asserts, "I'm your wife, but I don't love you because of our vows. I love you because you wrote letters to me. And you always stand up for me. Not once have you lied or hidden things from me. And no matter what you've believed your entire life, I think my husband is the sexiest man I've ever laid eyes on."

I have no words. Emotions attack me, and I bury my face in the curve of her neck, feeling like I might break down.

She tightens her arms around me and kisses my head, whispering, "Have I said too much?"

Has she?

I get control of my emotions and slowly lift my head to meet her eyes, answering, "No, my queen. I'm just a little overwhelmed by your statement."

She swallows hard, fretting, "In a good way or a bad way?" She bites on her lip.

I run my thumb over her chin, replying, "A good way."

She softly smiles.

I kiss her, and she returns my affection, pulling me back into a haze of happiness I never thought I deserved or could feel.

Another wave of emotions pounds into my heart. I slowly thrust inside her and mumble, "I do love you, Fiona. I don't know how it happened so quickly, but I do."

Her eyes glisten, and a tear escapes, slipping down her cheek. The salty wetness hits my tongue, and her body throbs against mine. She whimpers, clinging to me, adding, "I knew when I met you, I wanted you."

"I wanted you too," I admit through gritted teeth, my cock swelling bigger, but I'm not ready for this moment to end.

"Oh God," she breathes, her lips forming an O, and violent convulsions attack her. She trembles against me. Her eyes roll, and a loud moan flies out of her throat.

"That's it, my sexy little bird," I praise, studying every reaction.

She clutches me as if I'm her life raft, reiterating that she's mine.

Fiona O'Malley is my wife.

FionaPetrov.

Mrs. Kirill Petrov.

"Kirill," she whispers in a raspy tone, shaking harder.

I continue to thrust, barely getting out, "You're mine, my queen."

"Y-yes," she agrees.

Every atom in my body buzzes. I kiss her harder, thrust faster, and all hell breaks loose.

An incoherent, muffled sound fills the air. Her nails dig into my shoulders.

I groan into her mouth, my erection swells, and I pump every drop of my seed deep inside her.

She kisses me through our orgasms, not letting me go, her tongue flicking into my mouth with desperation.

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