✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

24-Flower Of Ruins

Jake's pov

The devil doesn't bargain. But the devilish woman I married does—and often. She bargains with her body, her words, and her actions.

Dark thoughts of making Anna speechless flood my mind, but I'd rather make her scream. Rising, I grab water from the kettle to prepare another cup of lemon tea, this time adding ginger for the cramps I noticed while we were at the hospital. It's her second day of menstruation, and I doubt she cares about anything right now. I ensure she watches me make the tea because of her trust issues with food. She never lets anyone else feed her, avoids outside food, and only eats from the maids if she supervises or from coffee shops where she can see the preparation.

Silence envelops us like a heavy gray cloud. Finally, the tea is ready. I turn and step towards her, placing the cup beside her arm resting on the island. Her questioning eyes remain unchanged, and those forest-green orbs make me want to delve into her mind and read her every thought.

"What is this for?"

"For the cramps, you've been ignoring all day," I replied.

"And what is it to you?" she retorted, a smirk curling on her lips. "If another woman received this kind of care, she'd think you were falling for her or trying to take care of her." Her murmur made it clear she had much to learn about care and compliments.

"And what do you know about taking care of people?" I murmured, stepping closer until our breaths mingled. She didn't respond, standing there with her forest-green eyes devoid of understanding care, and love.

"You don't know," I whispered against her face, slipping my leg between her thighs as she leaned forward.

"And what do you know about care?" she shot back, her breath hitching from our proximity. I felt the heat radiating from her shorts, her gorgeous thighs pressed against mine.

"Maybe caring is letting you cool down using my thighs to relieve yourself?"

In an instant, I had her pinned against the island, her legs draped over my hips, the spaghetti straps of her tank slipping seductively off her shoulders. Our chests pressed together, her heartbeat drumming against mine as I trailed kisses and nibbles along the delicate expanse of her neck. A soft whimper escaped her lips, a sweet vibration that stirred a primal urge within me. Moving lower, my mouth trailed wetly along her collarbone, her skin flushing a deep, enticing pink. Her nipples, like perfect peaks, strained against her bra, the cotton tank now a teasing barrier to her body. Oh, the temptation to bite, to suckle, to see if I could bring her to climax with just that.

I could do this. I could tease her, pleasure her, make her scream with desire without taking her. "Jake," she panted her voice a plea and a demand.

She ground her center against my erection, her shorts haphazardly bunched around her hips, leaving a tantalizing sliver of fabric between us. I had never felt a woman like this before. Now, here was the most stunning woman, intelligent and compassionate in her own way, in my arms. Her movements were a silent plea for more, her body craving the touch and connection we both yearned for. Her fingertips slide up my chest, exploring every crevice and ridge. My heart beats wildly against her palm, betraying the calm facade I maintain. Though I seem controlled on the outside, my heart tells a different story.

Each kiss deepens, wetter and more urgent, igniting her body with an insatiable desire. The ache between her legs becomes a sweet torment, begging for release. My hands remain braced above us, and I glide from her lips to her jawline, planting heated kisses along her throat. Each kiss leaves a glistening trail, escalating in desperation with every tender press of my lips.

I nip at her collarbone, leaving a stinging mark before soothing it with my tongue. Her head falls back, giving me better access. Her breasts press flush against my chest, hard nipples straining through her shirt. She'd give anything for me to rip her tank off and take one of those perfect peaks into my mouth. But instead, I return to her lips, eager and wanting, giving her just enough to placate her neediness. Even as I give, I remain controlled. She wants me to unravel, to lose myself as she feels lost in this moment.

Her breath caught, a tremor coursing through her as my teeth grazed her skin. I held her tighter, sensing the raw intensity of her desire pulsing beneath my fingertips. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as if the mere hint of space between us was unbearable.

My foot slid further between hers, urging them apart with a deliberate, unhurried motion. "Oh," she cried out, a symphony of desperation mingled with pleasure, as I positioned my thigh to press against her clit. Instinctively, she pressed against me, her body moving with primal urgency, chasing the elusive release just beyond her reach.

Pulling back slightly, I watched her, my eyes locked on the point where our bodies met. Dilated pupils focused intensely on my leg, absorbing every sensation. "Look how destructive and catastrophic you look right now."

"You love how destructive I am," she breathed, her voice a husky whisper filled with longing.

The tension built between us, rising like a crescendo towards her climax. She rubbed against me, her movements needy and frantic, seeking that peak of ecstasy. I grasped her chin, turning her face towards mine. "See how you're going to destroy yourself to my leg, Lady Anastasia?"

Grinding against me, she moaned into my mouth, her lips seeking mine with fervor. "Maybe I like to wreck and ruin everything I touch," she hissed through her teeth.

Her palms slid around my back, under my hoodie, holding me close as if she feared I might slip away. She felt warm and solid against me, a perfect contradiction that stirred both pleasure and pain. In response, I pressed my thigh firmly against her clit, the friction sparking an immediate and electrifying reaction in her body.

She gasped, her voice trembling with need, my name rolled off her lips like a desperate prayer as the first waves of her orgasm rippled through her. Her fingers tightened into my skin as if it were an anchor in the storm of pleasure. Euphoria danced in the depths of her eyes, each wave of sensation fluttering through her like a dark symphony.

I struggled to maintain focus, her admiring gaze holding me in its spell as she unraveled before me. Catching her breath, she lowered her head, her gaze falling on the wet spot she had left on my pants, a testament to our shared passion. "You're an expert at faking intimacy," she murmured, a hint of sadness coloring her words.

I didn't enjoy faking intimacy. I knew what I felt for my wife, and despite the fierce desire that surged between us, I couldn't ignore the boundaries she had set. The idea of investing myself in another woman who couldn't reciprocate my intentions was both thrilling and terrifying. That's when I pulled back, gently disentangling myself from her after her release. "Drink some tea," I suggested softly, "it will calm your nerves, Lady Anastasia."

She was a wild, wicked slip of a woman, a flame that burned too brightly for this world.