Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 136

Soft, golden lamplight spilled over the king-sized bed, bathing it in a gentle haze. Pudding, the golden retriever, had once again been banished to the hallway.

He whined in protest, his little paws scratching at the door. Why did they keep kicking him out halfway through playtime?

Inside the bedroom, Victor hovered over Isadora, his body pressing her gently into the mattress.

Her porcelain skin shimmered against the pale blue silk sheets, a rosy flush blooming across her body as passion overtook her.

A heated ache spread through Isadora’s chest, making her squirm restlessly beneath him, her voice trembling with a breathless, delicate moan. “Mmm…”

Victor propped himself up on one strong, bare arm, reaching over to the nightstand. He pulled open the drawer, grabbed what he needed, and tore open the wrapper before slipping it into place.

Isadora’s cheeks burned crimson.

She quickly turned away, not daring to look at the intimate scene unfolding beside her. But in that moment, she caught a glimpse of the overflowing drawer—box after box stacked inside.

A shiver ran through her. So many! Did he honestly think they’d ever use that many?

Her voice came out husky, “Why… why do you have so many?”

Victor finished what he was doing and leaned in, pinning her down once more. He brushed her hair aside and pressed his lips to her earlobe.

Her ears were delicate and cool to the touch, making her shiver all over. Victor’s gaze burned into her, a dark and hungry look flickering in his eyes.

“You should have a little more faith in your man,” he teased, his voice low and rough.

And then, Victor’s presence overwhelmed her, every inch of him claiming her as their bodies moved together in perfect, feverish rhythm. The air filled with breathless sighs and whispered names, her own voice trembling with pleasure, rising and falling until it finally broke into a tearful whimper.

Victor’s voice, deep and husky, rumbled against her ear. “Say my name, Isadora.”

“Vi—Victor…” she gasped, her tone sweet and breathless, nothing like her usual composed self.

The sound sent a jolt through Victor, making his throat work as he swallowed hard, desire darkening his eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple. “My sweet girl.”

Outside, moonlight poured through the window, painting their entwined shadows across the glass in a swirl of silver and longing.

Given that Isadora had just come home from the hospital, Victor was gentle that night—they only made love once.

But even so, Isadora lay sprawled on the bed, her body trembling, sweat dampening her brow. She was so exhausted she could barely lift a finger, wrapped in the blankets as if she might never move again.

Victor let out a quiet laugh.

She always claimed she wasn’t too thin, but her stamina told another story.