Graham's Fiance (9 page)

“I love you,” Graham said.

She curled her hands in the sheet, not knowing what to say. But Graham didn’t press her, he merely kissed her lightly on the forehead. Graham drew back the sheets to look at her body. She still wore the bra and panties she had gone walking in.

“Pearls like this, you should get naked for.”

Inexplicably, Savannah blushed. She’d never received pearls before. Never worn them. In the oval mirror from the dresser across her room, she saw herself, the pearls in three ascending ropes around her neck, falling over her cleavage, the lace of her bra down to her belly to gather in her lap.

Her husband reached for her, drew the panties off her hips and down her legs. Then he expertly and quickly took off her brassiere, leaving her completely naked except for the pearls gleaming against her skin.

“So perfect,” he said. His eyes were bright with approval. And desire.

Her eyes widened in surprise. In his lap, his cock was hard, pushing against the material of his slacks. He groaned her name, reached for her, touched her hair.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He kissed her forehead. “I promise.” Her cheek. “I swear.” Her mouth.

She lay stiffly in the bed, not at all overwhelmed by his gift that she would fall under his spell. She’d heard this was what men did. She didn’t want to be a part of it. But she wanted her marriage to work. It seemed beyond cruel for her to get what she’d always wanted in a man, in a lover, only to risk losing it over words.
And deeds
, a tiny voice at the back of her mind said, “
He’s done things too.”

But he was doing this to her now, stroking her breasts, whispering hot and dirty things in her ear.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmured. “I want to bend you over in this bed and fuck your sweet pussy until you call my name.”

His hands dipped between her legs, testing her wetness. And she was wet, unable to resist the way he touched her body or the hot urgency of his voice. She wanted to be dry. She wanted to tell him with her body’s rejection that what he’d done was unforgivable. But her legs spread for him. Her pussy wept for him.

“Your ass is still virgin, isn’t it?” His fingers glided sweetly over her clit, then firmly. “Can you take my cock, wife? I’ll make you take my cock. First in your mouth, then your pussy, then in your virgin asshole.”

Graham did none of that.

Instead, he kissed her gently. Pulled her in, and they shared a long and slow exploration of tongues, mouths and sighs. Then he pushed her into the bed on her belly, tugging the pearls over her shoulders until they draped down her back, warm and cool at the same time. She shivered at the touch of his hands on her ass. His hands slid down and between her thighs, touching her clit again, coating his fingers with the juices that flowed helplessly from her.

She made whimpering sounds in the sheets as he touched her. Her teeth sinking into the Egyptian cotton while her hips moved in concert with his fingers, finding pleasure. He kissed the soft mounds of her ass cheeks, then bit them, gently nibbling her flesh until his mouth was at her rear entrance. She gasped at the first touch of his mouth at the puckered orifice.

“Relax,” he murmured. “Let me love you.”

He spread her ass cheeks, his fingers digging gently into her flesh while he licked the wrinkled hole, circled her with his tongue. His fingers dipped into her pussy, swirling in her wetness, shallowly fucking her as he licked her asshole. Savannah didn’t know what to do with this strange pleasure. She wanted to buck him off her, but her body was opening up to him in unexpected ways, pleasure from his fingers in her dripping pussy, pleasure from his tongue working its way into her ass. Her hands clutched the sheets while she squirmed, gasped, soft noises of agitation leaving her mouth.

It felt like he was trying to crawl into her, all the way into her body and take it over. He made low sounds of enjoyment as he ate her ass and fingered her pussy. Then, his mouth was gone and the hands that had been inside her pussy, now coated wet with her juices, played at the tight circle of her ass. A finger slid into her rear. A loud, thrumming pleasure invaded Savannah’s body. The finger played in her ass, gently fucking as her breath came quickly.

His other hand. More fingers. This time in her pussy. Fucking her two holes while Savannah writhed on the bed, feeling his easy possession of her. An incredible intrusion. Sensation beyond any she’d ever felt before in her life. His fingers moved faster. More deeply. Harder until she was crying out in satisfaction, her body clenching him hard from the front and the back. At the end of it, she panted like a spent race horse as her limbs twitched uncontrollably in the bed.

Slowly, slowly, Graham drew his hands away from her. Savannah twitched as more shock waves moved through her. She felt his eyes on her, studying the sweat covered expanse of her back, her ass, her sprawled thighs. But he did nothing. Then finally, he moved way and she heard him in the bathroom. The sound of water, soap on flesh. Graham washing his hands.

She closed her eyes, her body a helpless drape in the bed, her bottom slightly sore, her pussy soaked and slippery. Graham came back into the room. She felt his silent contemplation again. Felt him. Savannah rolled over onto her back in time to see him unzip his pants, drop them off his lean hips. His shirt joined his pants on the floor and he joined her on the bed, shoving open her thighs to plant his hard cock inside her swimming pussy.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he commanded, breathless.

She did. Clinging to him and his sweat smell with a hint of cinnamon and other spices. His hands on her waist. His cock inside her pussy, hips sawing back and forth between her thighs. His breath coming harder.

“Tell me you forgive me,” he gasped into her throat.

“I forgive you.”

“Tell me you mean it.”

“I mean it.”

But she didn’t. She meant none of it, only enjoyed the sensation of his hardness between her thighs and the automatic rise of passion and the way he soon trembled against her, lost in his orgasm even though she hadn’t even begun to find hers yet. In moments, he was asleep. His body sagged heavily on top of hers, almost stifling. For a moment, she panicked, flashing back to the afternoon in the library when he had pushed her face into the couch and she had cried out for him to stop and found no mercy in him.

She flopped underneath him like a fish out of water, eventually wresting him off her. Savannah sat up in the bed, her chest heaving with dwindling panic. Beside her now, Graham had barely moved. She looked away from his nakedness and got up, heading for a hot shower. She needed to feel clean.

The honeymoon didn’t end soon enough for her, but it ended. She and Graham flew from Paris back to Miami in the comfort of first class. But the trip back was nothing like the one they had taken to the European city. Despite Graham’s insistence that his behavior had been an aberration, despite the pearls that she could barely stand to wear, she didn’t trust him. She wasn’t even sure if she could be a wife anymore.

If Graham noticed Savannah’s withdrawal from him, he said nothing. He carried on as normal, making love with her, taking her hand, at times playing with the six carat diamond on her married finger while his eyes were lowered in thought.

Soon enough, they arrived in Miami to a beautiful and sunny afternoon. Just being back in her home town made Savannah breathe a sigh of relief. A town car quickly took them to the mansion. Marie opened the door for them before Graham could either knock or produce his key.

“Welcome back, sir,” she said the words to him, but her eyes wandered over Graham and Savannah as if looking for a sign of something.

“Thank you, Marie.”

Graham grabbed his suitcase from the front step where their driver had left it and stepped into the house. Savannah followed, carrying her much smaller rolling suitcase. The house smelled of pine cleaner and flowers, as if they had cleaned up for Graham, happy for him to be back from his weeklong honeymoon. Graham leafed through the mail on the table by the front door, the very picture of a returning lord of the manor.

Savannah ignored Marie’s curious look over her body, her face, and excused herself. She fled up the stairs and into the bedroom she now shared with Graham. She closed the door even though she knew at any moment he could walk in. This room wasn’t a sanctuary for her. No place in this house was. She shoved a trembling hand in the pocket of her dress.

“What am I going to do?”

She asked the question out loud although she knew there was no one out there listening to help her. Savannah sighed. She put her suitcase on the bed and began to unpack her clothes.

As she was putting away the last of her unworn underwear, the door opened.

Marie. Savannah looked at her in astonishment.

“I had the door closed,” she said.

“There are no secrets in this house from me,” Marie responded.

She bent and picked up the dirty clothes Savannah had thrown on the floor from her suitcase.

When she straightened, she met Savannah’s eyes with a cool look. Everything about her seemed knowing and in charge.

“Were you here when Graham’s other wives were in this house?” Savannah asked.

“I don’t know about any other wives,” the maid said.

But Savannah could tell that she was lying. Though her expression was mostly blank, she could see a smirk there. She thought Savannah was an idiot. She always did.

“Okay,” Savannah shrugged.

Then she ignored the maid in favor of finishing up with her unpacking, passing by Marie to put clothes in the dresser, in the closet, deliberately saying nothing. When she was done with the clothes, she went into the bathroom to take a shower. When she came back into the room, drying her hair with a towel, the maid was gone. She’d left the dirty clothes on the floor for Savannah to put away herself. Savannah shook her head.

She wasn’t sure what kind of game Marie was trying to play, but she wasn’t into it. Not at all.

Making a sudden decision, she threw the towel on the bed and got dressed, leaving her loose hair to air-dry around her shoulders. She hadn’t been in the house for an hour yet and she was already feeling its oppressive crush.

Savannah called her brother and told him she was on her way to see him. After putting away the dirty clothes and her wet towel, she went to find Graham and let him know that she was leaving to see her brother. He offered her the use of his driver but she declined, insisting on driving her own car to South Beach where her brother was staying with some friends. She couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

When her brother opened the door to her, she almost fell into his arms with tears. But at the sight of her Samuel, his narrow features and the delicate body flexible and lithe from years of yoga, she held on to the tears and simply embraced him.

“It’s so good to see you, Savannah.”

He drew her into the large, light-filled condo to a couch in the middle of the living room. The place was all glassed-in elegance with a view of the beach on one side and Collins Avenue on the other. Very beautiful. Nothing her brother could have afforded.

They sat on the couch together, practically in each other’s laps where they exchanged the details of what each had been doing over the last few months. He’d written since leaving for his pilgrimage, even had the opportunity to make some phone and Skype calls to Savannah, but there was nothing like being able to touch him, lay in his embrace.

“I still can’t believe my sister is married.” Samuel threaded his fingers through hers, watching as the light caught the large diamond on her hand.

“Yeah, me either.” Something in her voice must have alerted him to something because he immediately looked at her with worry.

“Is everything okay with the two of you?”

She didn’t answer right away, only clasped his hand in hers. The look of worry sank deeper into his face.