My Husband Was Definitely a Paladin
“Michael, my lord!”
Reina rose at once, beaming with delight as she greeted him.
Michael offered her a perfectly polite bow, inclining his head just slightly.
No trace of the arrogance he had once worn remained in the gesture.
Irene watched the change and felt her chest tighten with fresh wonder.
How had they moved so far from that first awkward meeting?
“I’m sorry to come to you in such a state,” Michael continued, voice smooth as silk.
“My pride is wounded; I only ask for purification.”
He rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm.
A wound no wider than a palm gaped there.
Yet it was already scabbed over, the blood long dried.
To him it was nothing more than a scratch.
Irene stared, stunned.
“What are you doing?” Reina gasped, starting to her feet.
“I’ll leave you two to talk in peace.”
She was about to pack her things when Michael waved her off.
“Just a moment, Reina.”
“No, no. We’ll talk again tomorrow!”
Reina laughed, bright and untroubled, and waved her hand before slipping out the door.
Irene stood motionless, listening to the latch click shut.
When she turned back, the gentle knight had vanished.
In his place stood Michael, arms folded, brows drawn in clear displeasure.
He looked every inch the stern husband, nothing like the holy knight of old.
Irene swallowed hard and forced a smile.
“You’ve hurt yourself again.”
Michael’s voice was low, almost apologetic. “Forgive me. I only wished to see you without an audience.”
Irene stepped closer. “Did you truly think I’d refuse you?”
He gave a small shrug. “I’m afraid my condition is not suitable for a proper purification.”
“You’re joking.”
Michael’s lips curved. “I would never jest about something so serious.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?” Irene laughed softly, stepping into his space.
“And yet it’s true.” He lifted his arm again, letting her see the wound once more. “It pains me still.”
“I see.” Irene’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Then perhaps I should tend it for you?”
“I’ll manage.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” She rose on her toes and kissed him.
The kiss was light, quick, almost playful.
Michael’s shoulders relaxed at once.
“Still not enough,” he murmured against her mouth.
Irene smiled and pulled him down for a deeper kiss.
When they parted, his lips were swollen and glistening. “That’s better,” he said, voice husky. “But I still need more.”
Irene let her fingers trace the line of his jaw. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“And you enjoy teasing me,” he answered, eyes dark.
She kissed the shadowed stubble along his chin, then claimed his mouth again.
Michael groaned softly and let her take control, one large hand sliding down to cup the back of her head.
When they finally broke apart, breathing hard, Irene slid her hand under his sleeve and rolled it higher.
The wound was gone. Not a scar remained.
“It’s finished,” she announced.
Michael exhaled a long sigh. “Then I suppose I must ask for something else.”
“What now?” Irene stepped back, heart fluttering.
“Come closer.” He held out his arms. “I need my wife to hold me.”
Irene moved into his embrace, letting him pull her flush against his chest.
His lips found her temple, then her cheek, then the sensitive spot just below her ear.
“Michael…” she whispered, a soft sound escaping despite herself.
His big hands roamed freely now, sliding under her shirt to cup her breasts.
Irene arched into the touch, a quiet moan slipping free.
“That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing her neck. “Let me hear you.”
One hand slipped lower, pushing her skirt up until it bunched at her waist.
Irene’s breath hitched. “Wait—”
“Shh.” Michael’s fingers slipped inside her undergarments, finding her already slick.
“You’re so wet for me,” he growled softly. “Did you really think a little dungeon was enough to tire you out?”
Irene’s knees buckled; he caught her easily and lowered her to the bed.
She fell back against the pillows, heart pounding.
Michael settled between her thighs, one hand pinning her hip while the other parted her folds.
His fingers slid inside her in one smooth thrust, curling just right.
“Ah—” Irene cried out, back bowing.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, voice low and steady. “Let me feel how tight you are.”
His thumb circled her swollen clit, and pleasure spiraled through her in hot waves.
Irene’s hands fisted in his hair as her release built fast.
Michael watched her face, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Come for me, Irene.”
She shattered with a broken moan, thighs trembling around his hand.
Only then did he pull his fingers free and bring them to her lips. “Taste.”
Irene licked them clean, eyes locked on his.
Michael’s breathing was ragged now. “I’m still not satisfied.”
He pushed her skirt higher, then his own trousers down just enough.
His thick length stood proud and leaking against his stomach.
“Let me inside you,” he said, voice rough. “Please.”
Irene reached down and wrapped her fingers around him, stroking once. “You’re so hard already.”
Michael groaned and thrust into her grip. “I can’t wait any longer.”
He guided himself to her entrance and pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch.
Irene’s back arched again, a long whimper escaping as he filled her completely.
“Michael…” she breathed, nails digging into his shoulders.
“My wife,” he rasped, hips rolling in a deep, steady rhythm. “You feel so good. So perfect.”
He set a steady pace, one hand braced beside her head, the other stroking between them.
Irene met every thrust, legs wrapped around his waist, lost in the heat of him.
“Harder,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I want to feel you tomorrow.”
Michael’s eyes darkened with lust. He gave her exactly what she asked for—deep, powerful strokes that made the bed creak.
“That’s it,” he growled, teeth grazing her neck. “Take what you need.”
Irene came again with a cry, clenching around him so tightly he followed seconds later, spilling hot and deep inside her with a broken moan of her name.
They stayed locked together, panting, sweat-slick and utterly content.
Michael pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for today.”
Irene smiled against his chest. “Always.”
Outside the room, the world could wait. Inside, there was only them.