Married To The Mad Vampire Lord novel Chapter 223

Chapter 223: Payment_Part 3

Rohan smiled as he watched her. She tugged at the back of his boot, held his foot with both hands, and smoothly pulled the boot off, quick and sure, like someone who had done it many times.

He wriggled his toes at her.

She neatly set the boot aside. In a moment, she had taken off the second one and placed it next to the first.

She scooted forward a few inches, arranged her hair modestly around her, sank back onto her heels, and drew his feet into her lap.

Rohan tilted his head back, gazing up at the ceiling in pleasure as she began to massage his feet. But he didn’t want to waste it—not while he had his wife to look at, Belle enrobed in her extraordinary hair, rubbing his feet as if it were a task of the most solemn gravity.

She massaged the middle of his feet and his heels, pausing at times to turn one foot slightly, looking down and bending over, as if checking to make sure she was doing a good job.

During one of these pauses, he arched his foot and lightly touched her body with his toe, brushing a bit of her hair aside to reveal her body from beneath the curtain of hair. A pale ribbon of light slid down her throat, tracing her skin like sunlight through a cathedral aisle.

A few nights ago, when they had made love at that inn, it had been all about feeling; but tonight, it was all about the sight of her, in glimpses, in secret moments. He wanted to take it slow, to make the moment last as long as he could hold on, and to let her do her thing without any hurry. If she wanted to start with a massage, he would not stop her.

He allowed her hair to fall back as she resumed her earnest massage. He wriggled his toes again to get her attention, which seemed to have fixed too intently on the business of kneading and massaging.

She looked up towards his face. He drew his feet away from her lap and propped them flat on the floor, watching her between his knees now. It was a dare: she had to come forward to him or retreat entirely.

"This is not fair," she complained.

"Why?"

"You’re... dressed, and I am not."

He smiled complacently.

"You’re wicked," she accused.

He tilted his head to the side and let out a laugh at her adorable pout and glare, her expression was like that of a girl who had been wronged.

"And you’re laughing at me!" she cried, fighting the urge to get up, take her dress, and put it back on to cover herself.

He stretched his long legs out on either side of her and remarked, "I’m undressed because I am waiting."

"Am I supposed to undress you?" she muttered.

He brought his feet together to her hips, caressing her softly. "Do you want to undress me?"

Her eyes evaded his shyly. She dropped her gaze to the carpet in front of her. He moved his toes slowly over her bare skin and hair.

"No pretending, Isa," he said gently. "Do you want to undress your husband?"

No pretending. She had undressed him more than once when he was unconscious and bathed his body; there was no part of him she hadn’t seen, only then, his body hadn’t been active like it was now. She took a deep breath, exhaled it, and leaned forward over him on the floor.

It was all Rohan could do to hold himself in check. Her position on her hands revealed her vividly—full breasts under a wash of gold hair that caught the firelight, too finely translucent to conceal shape behind it.

Supporting herself on one hand, she carefully loosened the buttons on his shirt and pushed the fabric apart from his torso. Then, with gently fingers, she moved back to unfasten the buttons of his trousers as well, trying to steady her breath as she did.

Her hair slid down like a silky veil, unveiling the delicate lines of her back and the soft curve of her buttocks. She made a quick move to catch it back, rising slightly in a flustered motion—a sudden vision of everything: her smooth torso, the gentle rise of her breasts, the line of her belly, and the dark blonde crown of curls between her thighs.

Rohan’s restraint shattered. He sat up in one swift, fluid movement and helped her pull his trousers down and off his legs. He tugged off his shirtsleeves just as fast, discarding the last of his clothing in a blur. Now fully naked, he sat back on the floor, having done it all with a speed only a vampire could manage.

She seemed startled by how suddenly and effortlessly he stripped himself; she looked at him, wide-eyed and stunned, drawing back slightly, but he quickly reached out and caught her between his legs, holding her still.

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