Page 61 of Iron Cross

She was a woman of power. A queen. A goddess.

She did not belong under the boot of hapless women who accused her of being a nanny, when she was the woman who could hold the world in the palm of her hand.

“I’m your husband,” I said, stepping to her. “Now the masks are off, sweet Muse. It’s time for us to be what we truly are.”

I grabbed her beneath the arms and pulled her to her feet.

“You are my wife, you do not fall for anyone,” I whispered. “You stand on your own two feet, and command the fucking room, just as you had the first day I laid eyes on you.”

I pressed our bodies together, pinning her against the wall. I reached between us and fumbled for my zipper.

I unleashed my cock, raised up her skirt, pulled her underwear to the side, and let myself into that molten heat.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her eyes shut, head tilted back, exposing that beautiful, tanned throat. I nipped at the skin, until I found the sweet spot on her clavicle and sucked her tender flesh between my teeth, with every intention of leaving my mark.

Her legs began to shake as I pistoned my hips, stretching her tight walls. The walls of a home that had been mine all along.

“Eoghan?” Her voice rose in despair. “No… no. No!”

She screamed her orgasm into the air before she clamped a hand over her mouth. She shook her head as her entire body quaked in ecstatic relief.

“Welcome me home, Kira,” I whispered into her throat. “Welcome your husband to where he belongs.”

She didn’t need to say it. I felt it with the slow rotation of her hips as she greedily fucked herself on my aching cock. Her body gave me an honest response, while her mind rebelled. Her mind was a traitor, but her soul told the truth. Her body, her soul, her heart knew that we were joined as one. We belonged together.

She tried to pull away, and I held her close. She thrashed in my arms, trying to twist from my grip, throwing her weight around to break my hold. But I wouldn’t let her go. I wouldneverlet her go.

“Eoghan, please, stop!” Her fingers clutched the collar of my shirt, pulling me closer to her. In a way, that was her own loud declaration of love. She crippled her own escape because she loved me. “Eoghan, please don’t do this.”

Don’t do what? I wasn’t sure. I stroked her hair, holding her close, enjoying the feel of her heat against me. Her skin. Her scent. Her hair. Our bodies together as man and wife.

I hated that her hair wasn’t the midnight black it had been, like the ocean waves in the darkness. The purple was a fucking abomination. But as I ran my fingers through her strands, I felt the sweetness of the curls were still there, beneath the over-combed straightness.

“It’s time for us to go home now, sweet Muse.” I kissed the shell of her ear. It tore my heart to do what I needed to do.

I needed her back in all her regal glory.

She trembled in my arms. I knew it wasn’t from fear. I know my wife as well as I know the taste of cool water, or the scent of clean air.

She trembled in my arms from the electricity that was always in the air between us. My wife. My Muse. My Kira.

“What’s your name?” I whispered into the shell of her ear. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Anna,” she whimpered.

Stubborn as always. A trait I loved, but loathed at this moment.

“Don’t lie to me!” I said against her skin, “I will take it as a fucking insult.”

I brought my face up to gently bump her nose with mine.

“What’s your name?”

Her face was filled with anguish, and those lovely eyes looked up at me. “Anna Jones.”

Anger surged through me, only soothed by the primal comfort of her sweet heat strangling my cock as I kept a slow and loving rhythm. But it only did so much to assuage the anger that bubbled up inside me.

I wanted to strike the wall beside her, to feel my fist shoot with pain. But I stopped myself. That was how I had fucked it all up between us. How I had sent her into a spiral of fear. How I had set us down this path.

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