Split

Chapter 15

15

T hree of the past five nights, I’ve felt the shadow in my room. It lingers in the darkness, watching me silently as I bury myself underneath the covers and will it to leave.

This place is definitely haunted.

It’d be foolish to fear some imaginary evil when there’s a very real one lurking in the east wing, though. So, each time I wake up to the spine-prickling feeling of being watched, I force myself to remain calm, knowing it’ll pass soon. And when it finally does, I fall asleep to fantasies of escaping this place and being free for once in my godforsaken life.

Since that tense interaction in the hall, Roman and I have been passing like two ships in the night– but I should’ve known it’d be too good to be true for things to continue that way for long. At breakfast, Clara tells me that I’ll be having lunch with Mister Volkov in the dining room, and my stomach sinks like a stone. Because the last time we had lunch together, he shoved his cock down my throat, and I’m terrified to think of what fresh hell awaits me this time.

There’s also something else that sparked within me when Clara informed me of my lunch plans. Something I refuse to acknowledge, because doing so would mean that I’m just as fucked in the head as my new husband is. A little rush of titillation; a surge of excitement.

I’m ashamed to admit I’ve continued touching myself to the thought of his rough handling in the hallway.

Is this when he finally delivers on those promises he made?

As soon as I step into the dining room and see that feral, unhinged look in his eyes, my suspicions are all but confirmed. The ghost of a smile crosses his lips as I step through the doorway and he pats his thigh, beckoning me with a flick of his head.

I suck in a deep breath, steeling my nerves as begin my march to certain doom.

The soft fabric of my red cashmere dress swishes around my upper thighs as I cross the room, and I don’t miss the hunger in Roman’s gaze as his eyes drop to tour my bare legs, growing in intensity as they rake their way up my form. Every instinct within me is screaming to turn and run, but I continue forward, resigning myself to whatever twisted game he’s about to play with me. For all I know, fleeing from my husband would only excite him. When he’s in one of his moods, he’s a predator and I’m the prey.

I think some part of me likes this game.

I come to a stop beside his chair, my heart beating a riot in my chest and my steps faltering. Then I remind myself of the role I’m supposed to be playing; my end goal of freeing myself from this prison. I begrudgingly move in closer and ease down onto his lap.

Roman immediately readjusts my position to his liking, his hand landing on my thigh and this thumb stroking my bare flesh. “I’ve missed you, pet,” he croons, nudging the hem of my dress up my thigh with each sweep of his thumb.

This is definitely feeling like some fucked-up Jekyll and Hyde situation. I’m not sure if I’m just building something up in my mind after poring over the pages of that book for the past couple days, but I swear Roman becomes an entirely different person like the flip of a switch. One minute, he’s cold and aloof, and the next, he’s this ; manic and unhinged.

Mister Hyde.

His hand moves from my thigh up the curve of my waist, and I find myself melting into his touch– chasing it, even. He cruises his palm up the swell of my breast, a flood of heat rushing to my core. As he trails the backs of his knuckles up the side of my throat, that desperate throb starts up between my thighs. While I shouldn’t want to be anywhere near this man, I’m so starved for touch that even the caress of the devil is too tempting to resist.

Roman slides his hand up to cup my cheek in his calloused palm, sweeping his thumb back and forth across my lower lip. “I just keep thinking about this mouth of yours,” he murmurs, the deep tone of his voice dripping with sin.

I press my thighs together tighter in a surge of rebellion. “Go fuck yourself,” I breathe.

He chuckles under his breath, green eyes glimmering with amusement. “Now why would I do that when I can fuck you ?”

I stare back at him defiantly, back ramrod straight and chin held high. Then four little words leave my lips almost on their own accord, sealing my damnation. “Just do it, then.”

Maybe I just want to get it over with so the dark cloud of apprehension will stop hanging over my head. Maybe some twisted part of me actually wants it, and that’s why I put on this dress and showed up here without complaint. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter– because fucking my husband is an inevitability, and those four words are all it takes for him to spring into action.

Roman’s eyes light up with deviant excitement as he effortlessly lifts me from his lap, dropping me down onto the table in front of him and rucking my dress up to my waist. His fingers curl into the waistband of my red lace panties and he yanks them down my legs in one smooth motion, balling them in a fist and bringing them up in front of my face.

“Open,” he commands, and I do. Not because I’m some bitch he’s brought to heel, but because if I’m gagged, it’s a guarantee that he won’t try to kiss me.

Kissing is too intimate.

Kissing leads to feelings, and this is purely transactional.

As soon as he shoves my panties in my mouth, Roman grabs me by my inner thighs, forcing them apart and rocking back on his heels to admire his prize.

“Fuck,” he growls, sliding a hand to the apex and spreading me wide with his fingers. “Look how pretty this pussy is.”

I assume he’s just babbling to himself, but then he abruptly leans forward and slips a hand around the back of my neck, fingers tightening around my nape to angle my head down and force me to look. “I think it’ll look even better stuffed with my cock, don’t you?”

I whine behind the fabric in my mouth and his hand slips away to drop to his belt, fingers working to unfasten the buckle. His slacks fall to the floor, his massive erection springing free between his powerfully muscled thighs.

Another flood of heat builds in my core at the sight of him as he takes it in his fist, stepping forward to rub the velvety crown through my folds and bumping it against my clit. My body shudders, blood turning molten in my veins.

“Oh Eliza, I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around my thigh. “You have no idea how much restraint I’ve exercised. But now…” He lines his tip up with my entrance, fingers tightening their grip around my thigh. “Now you’re truly mine .”

With a forceful yank, he pulls me to the edge of the table, impaling me on his thick cock. I scream into my gag, tears springing to my eyes as I fall back against the surface, my head smacking against the wood painfully. A low groan rattles from Roman’s throat as he pauses for a moment while fully seated inside me. I’m not sure if he’s just taking a second to enjoy the sensation or allowing me to adjust, but the pain ebbs slightly before he slowly drags out halfway, pushing back in smoothly.

“Fuck,” he grits out, his pelvis smacking against my inner thighs. “This was definitely worth the wait.”

Pain splinters between my legs as my inner walls stretch to accommodate his girth, quickly giving way to pleasure with each pulse of his hips. If I’m being honest, it’s not like I was completely unprepared. I can taste the tang of my arousal on the fabric in my mouth, and each glide of his cock inside me is a shameful reminder of how wet I am. Though I try to stifle my whimpers, they slip free, each little noise I make spurring him on.

Roman suddenly leans forward over my body, grabbing me roughly by the nape and hauling me upright. Once again, he forces me to look down between my legs, at where our bodies are now joined. “I was right, wasn’t I?” he taunts, chuckling darkly as he presses his forehead against mine. “Look how your greedy pussy is swallowing my cock, pet. Look how well you take me.”

Shit, I swear his praise makes me even wetter, the coil in my belly winding tight as he continues rutting into me. Tears stream down my cheeks, but at this point I’m not sure if they’re from pain or pleasure; fear or desire. He’s right, they’re two sides of the same coin, and right now I’m all mixed up, the signals in my brain misfiring.

Especially when he grips onto my thighs and lifts me from the table, falling back into his chair and taking me with him. I land on his lap with his cock still inside me and he directs my hips, slamming me down over him as he grunts his pleasure. I’m not sure when I actually start riding him in earnest, but before I know it, I’m moaning into my gag, rolling my hips and chasing the glorious friction of his pubic bone against my clit.

This is nothing like that clumsy romp with Wesley that was over in two minutes flat. No, this is like a goddamn out of body experience, my toes curling and thighs clenching as I bounce up and down on Roman’s lap, wound up tighter than a damn bowstring. As if he can sense I’m close to detonation, one of his hands leaves my hips, curving in so he can rub the pad of his thumb against my throbbing clit.

My muscles tense beneath his ministrations as his fingers work me expertly and he buries his face in the crook of my neck. Then suddenly, his teeth sink into my flesh and he bites down hard, the shot of pain tipping me over the edge. Fireworks explode behind my eyelids as I freefall into oblivion, the panties in my mouth barely containing my muffled screams of ecstasy as I come undone.

“That’s right, pet,” Roman growls in satisfaction, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of my hip as my body shudders and convulses with my climax. “Come all over my cock. Show me how much you like it.”

I hate it.

I love it.

I have no idea who or what I am anymore, just that I come so hard I see stars, gripping his thick shoulders and holding on for dear life as I ride it out.

I fight to catch my breath as I come back down, spitting out the gag so I can drag some much-needed oxygen into my lungs. When I meet Roman’s eyes, he’s got a savage grin on his face, punching up his hips to bury himself deeper inside me. He murmurs something under his breath that I can’t make out over the sound of my own pulse hammering in my ears, then abruptly pulls me off his cock, lifting me from his lap and tossing me back onto the table.

He rises to his feet, fisting his length with a guttural groan as he shoves my dress up with his other hand. Ropes of cum shoot from his tip, landing on my belly in warm, sticky ropes of possession. My brain is still fuzzy, mind going blank– and I have no idea what comes over me, but I reach down to touch it, dragging my fingertips through his mess before lifting them to my lips.

Call it strategy. Call it madness. Call it whatever you want to, but the reaction the move elicits isn’t one I’ll soon forget.

Roman’s chest heaves as he stares down at me reverently, watching as I dart my tongue out to lick his cum from my fingers, his emerald eyes turning molten. He reaches for me with a feral growl, smearing the rest of it into the skin of my belly with his thumbs like a mark of ownership, then reaches up to put one of them to my mouth in offering. Almost as if on instinct, I wrap my lips around his digit and suck it inside.

He groans again in twisted satisfaction, my lips releasing his thumb with a pop as he retracts his hand and gently tugs my dress back down over my thighs.

“I want you in red tonight.”