dress.”
Arles gave me a wolfish grin. “Why don’t I help you with that?”
I lifted a brow at him as I wrestled layers of stubborn fabric. The thin, diamond bangles he’d given me rang together with every tug. “According to the Newsies, you do have a talent for getting women out of their clothes.”
“A skill I’ll be restricting to you from now on.”
“Good to hear.”
Moving around behind me, he kicked my nanosilk train aside and went to work on the gown’s countless tiny fasteners. It took him ten minutes and some quiet swearing, but he got them open. I squirmed out of the tight bodice and began hauling the dress over my head.
Arles stepped around me and sprawled in a chair to watch, shamelessly enjoying my struggles.
I finally tunneled free of the gown and its layers of petticoats, then pulled off my veil before wrestling the whole pile over to my new walk-in closet. I stuffed the lot into the auto-fold hamper, which devoured them with a series of chirps. A moment later the unit huffed a blast of jasmine-scented air and spat them all out onto one of the closet shelves, neatly cleaned, packaged and vacuum-sealed.
“Mmm,” Arles purred. I turned to find him eyeing me with predatory interest. A heavy, full-length mirror in a massive, gildwood frame stood just behind his chair, and I realized why he was staring. I now wore only a Victorian corset beaded with pearls, a pair of tiny lace panties, and jeweled high heels that made my legs look endless in white lace stockings. A long pearl necklace draped over my corset-mounded cleavage to swing at my waist.
Even I had to admit the view wasn’t bad.
“I knew you’d look luscious in that corset.” It had been yet another gift from him, having arrived just in time for the wedding gown’s final fitting. The designer had not been happy with either of us for the addition.
Sprawled in the armchair in his dress uniform, Arles gave me a buccaneering smile. “Come here.” An erection looking damn near as thick as my wrist bulged beneath his snug black uniform trousers.
“Well now,” I purred. “Whatever do you have in mind?”
“I haven’t tied you up and fucked you hard in three whole days.” There hadn’t been time. “I find I’m feeling… neglected.”
“Can’t have that.” I sauntered toward him, strutting just a bit on those ridiculous heels.
Arles rose to his feet, lithe as a panther, and pulled the seal of his dress tunic. I watched him shrug out of the jacket, powerful muscle bunching and releasing under a silken thatch of iridescent hair. Bracing his booted feet apart, he tossed the tunic aside and waited for me.
My tiny panties were already wet through. Not that it mattered. They didn’t have a prayer once he got those big hands on them.
Smiling up into his hungry eyes, I stepped into his arms. Just as I expected, he slid his palms over my hips, found the fragile waistband, and tugged. The lace snapped, and he dropped what was left of my panties on the floor.
His mouth came down on mine, hot, wet and famished, in a ruthless kiss of possession and need. I kissed him back, opening for the teasing thrust of his tongue, the nibbling capture of my lip as his hands slid up, cupping my corseted breasts.
When we finally tore away to breathe, Arles smiled down at me, the animal heat in his gaze tempered by tenderness. “Wife,” he breathed.
I smiled dreamily up at him. “Husband.” Neither word had ever sounded so sweet.
Chapter Nine
Arles turned me to face the mirror and wrapped his strong arms around my waist. With a sigh, I leaned my head back against his chest, admiring the contrast between us. I’ve got a mercenary’s body, lean with fighting muscle, but dressed in that corset I looked as lush as any courtesan.
“Take hold of the mirror,” Arles rumbled in my ear.
Lifting a brow, I met his gaze in our reflection and reached upward, meaning to take hold of the carved posts at the top of the mirror’s
Arles gave me a wolfish grin. “Why don’t I help you with that?”
I lifted a brow at him as I wrestled layers of stubborn fabric. The thin, diamond bangles he’d given me rang together with every tug. “According to the Newsies, you do have a talent for getting women out of their clothes.”
“A skill I’ll be restricting to you from now on.”
“Good to hear.”
Moving around behind me, he kicked my nanosilk train aside and went to work on the gown’s countless tiny fasteners. It took him ten minutes and some quiet swearing, but he got them open. I squirmed out of the tight bodice and began hauling the dress over my head.
Arles stepped around me and sprawled in a chair to watch, shamelessly enjoying my struggles.
I finally tunneled free of the gown and its layers of petticoats, then pulled off my veil before wrestling the whole pile over to my new walk-in closet. I stuffed the lot into the auto-fold hamper, which devoured them with a series of chirps. A moment later the unit huffed a blast of jasmine-scented air and spat them all out onto one of the closet shelves, neatly cleaned, packaged and vacuum-sealed.
“Mmm,” Arles purred. I turned to find him eyeing me with predatory interest. A heavy, full-length mirror in a massive, gildwood frame stood just behind his chair, and I realized why he was staring. I now wore only a Victorian corset beaded with pearls, a pair of tiny lace panties, and jeweled high heels that made my legs look endless in white lace stockings. A long pearl necklace draped over my corset-mounded cleavage to swing at my waist.
Even I had to admit the view wasn’t bad.
“I knew you’d look luscious in that corset.” It had been yet another gift from him, having arrived just in time for the wedding gown’s final fitting. The designer had not been happy with either of us for the addition.
Sprawled in the armchair in his dress uniform, Arles gave me a buccaneering smile. “Come here.” An erection looking damn near as thick as my wrist bulged beneath his snug black uniform trousers.
“Well now,” I purred. “Whatever do you have in mind?”
“I haven’t tied you up and fucked you hard in three whole days.” There hadn’t been time. “I find I’m feeling… neglected.”
“Can’t have that.” I sauntered toward him, strutting just a bit on those ridiculous heels.
Arles rose to his feet, lithe as a panther, and pulled the seal of his dress tunic. I watched him shrug out of the jacket, powerful muscle bunching and releasing under a silken thatch of iridescent hair. Bracing his booted feet apart, he tossed the tunic aside and waited for me.
My tiny panties were already wet through. Not that it mattered. They didn’t have a prayer once he got those big hands on them.
Smiling up into his hungry eyes, I stepped into his arms. Just as I expected, he slid his palms over my hips, found the fragile waistband, and tugged. The lace snapped, and he dropped what was left of my panties on the floor.
His mouth came down on mine, hot, wet and famished, in a ruthless kiss of possession and need. I kissed him back, opening for the teasing thrust of his tongue, the nibbling capture of my lip as his hands slid up, cupping my corseted breasts.
When we finally tore away to breathe, Arles smiled down at me, the animal heat in his gaze tempered by tenderness. “Wife,” he breathed.
I smiled dreamily up at him. “Husband.” Neither word had ever sounded so sweet.
Chapter Nine
Arles turned me to face the mirror and wrapped his strong arms around my waist. With a sigh, I leaned my head back against his chest, admiring the contrast between us. I’ve got a mercenary’s body, lean with fighting muscle, but dressed in that corset I looked as lush as any courtesan.
“Take hold of the mirror,” Arles rumbled in my ear.
Lifting a brow, I met his gaze in our reflection and reached upward, meaning to take hold of the carved posts at the top of the mirror’s
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