Page 16 of Sold to the Enemy

His cock was hard as rock and he felt a desperate need to just take her to the bed, bend her over it, spread those juicy ass cheeks, and take her hard, fast, and to go deep. He wanted to flood her womb, drown her with his seed. Drago was desperate to get her pregnant so there was no chance of her ever leaving him. He wanted to keep her barefoot and pregnant.

Pulling away from the kiss, he moved them back until Selma fell on top of the bed. Sliding his leg between hers, he moved up until they laid amongst the pillows. The towel she’d been wearing had gotten lost in their journey to the pillows, and her hair fanned out across them. It wasn’t quite dry, nor was it wet.

“I want to stay angry at you,” Selma said.

“My guards have already told me that you spend most evenings at the window, waiting for me to return.” He hadn’t liked that. Drago wasn’t used to calling ahead or asking about a person’s day. Selma wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever dealt with. She had feelings and she expected things from him.

“I didn’t want to leave, but business kept me away.”

“Why didn’t you call me, or leave a note? I tried to ask your guards, but no one would tell me anything, and I hated that.”

He kissed her, hard, not wanting to let her go. He hated that he’d hurt her. When he came home, he had seen Selma making her escape upstairs, and that was when his guards had told him.

Drago had known, then, he needed to figure out what the problem was, so he’d tried to give her space, even though it was the last thing he wanted to give her. He figured when he saw her at dinner, she’d run over to him, throw her arms around him, and tell him how much she missed him. Dinner had arrived, and he sat waiting. His woman hadn’t arrived. And he had no choice but to go to her.

With her legs open, he knew it wouldn’t be so hard to take what was his, but he needed to fix this.

Chapter Seven

Selma was finding it hard to stay mad at him, even though that was exactly what she wanted to be—mad, angry, infuriated—but she couldn’t be either of those things while he was between her thighs. His kisses weren’t helping either. They were driving her crazy. Drago knew how to use that mouth, and that tongue of his.

He didn’t say anything for many seconds, or perhaps several minutes. He stroked her cheek, ran his thumb across her mouth, and then looked into her eyes. She was so trapped by them. A sharp blue, which seems insane. She had looked into many eyes over the years. Some of their four-legged, furry kind, and then the eyes of many experienced men and women. Drago looked … perplexed.

Selma didn’t have a clue what to say to him and remained silent, patient, waiting.

“I’m not used to this,” he said.

“Used to what?”

“Having to be patient. Being wrong. All my life, I’ve been alone, Selma. I haven’t answered to anyone in a very long time. I got the call, and I knew I had to take care of business. The truth is, all I wanted was to be here with you. I didn’t want to have to deal with any other shit. I wanted it all to be over and fast.” He stroked her cheek. “I thought about you every single day. Not just in the morning or at night, either. I thought about you all the freaking time, and I missed you so much.”

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going, or call me?” That was what she didn’t get. If he missed her so much, would a phone call have hurt?

“The truth?”

She nodded her head.

“I didn’t think it would be enough. I didn’t want to call you, because I knew it would drive me crazy to hear your voice and to know I had to leave you back home. It would make me want to come home.”

“Drago?”

“I’m being serious.” He kissed her lips.

“I’m not joking around. This is real to me,” she said. “I … get it, I think, but you’re going to have to work for a long time, right? Does that mean every single time you do, you’re not going to be home? That I’m going to have to sit twiddling my thumbs until you decide to come home?” She saw the way his lips formed as if he was about to say yes, and she pressed a finger against his mouth. “Do not even think of saying yes, mister!”

He stopped trying to talk.

Selma took a deep breath, and it was hard to focus with her thoughts on his body, on the stiffness of his cock as it pressed against her stomach. She placed her hand on his chest. There were several buttons that had been undone, and she wanted to ease them open and touch the expanse of his naked chest. She held herself back and didn’t touch him beneath the fabric of his shirt. She so desperately wanted to, but she also wanted to deal with this.

“We all have to do things in life that we don’t like, and we don’t want to do.” She teased the edge of his shirt. “I don’t want to wait another week to talk to you, Drago. It’s not fair. We’re have to compromise. Maybe talk to your guards and have them write a letter? Or send me letters in the mail? Or text me. I could have my own cell phone?” That sounded like a good idea to her.

“And if you try to escape?”

This made her frown. “Why would I escape?”

“Selma, our marriage is not exactly a conventional one.”

“I know.” Their marriage had started on the basis he wouldn’t kill her father. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t … enjoy a conventional marriage. I’m not going to run away. Haven’t I proven that yet? I’m here, I want to make it work.”