Chapter 27
27
I t’s dark and quiet in my room, but Roman’s still here.
I was hysterical when he first carried me inside and laid me down on the bed, kicking and screaming and cursing his existence.
Then at some point I went quiet, crushed by the perception of impending doom.
I turned practically catatonic in the thick of my panic attack, sure that I’d never come out of it.
The subsequent letdown of adrenaline after left me exhausted and numb, feeling like I was a stranger in my own body.
Then slowly, I started coming back into myself.
In the hours since my meltdown in the study, my husband has remained stoically by my side, watching over me like a corrupt guardian angel. I don’t know why. It’s not like him to care. Still, there’s something oddly comforting in his sustained presence; something I’m not quite ready to part with.
Perhaps I’m not quite ready to part with him at all.
Maybe we’re both crazy. The term itself is so esoteric; it can mean any number of things depending on the connotation. Crazy can mean absurd or bizarre, exciting or deranged. It can mean angry, aggressive, stupid, or annoying. It can also mean wild and uncontrollable. Passionate. With such a broad spectrum of interpretations, I’d venture to say that most people can be a little crazy, and like poetry it all depends on the inflection.
I suppose the silver lining of my freakout is that it left my mind in a gloriously quiet state, similar to how I feel while Roman delivers a spanking. I spent the evening simply existing ; content with just being present while my mixed-up brain slowly pieced itself back together.
Roman had Clara deliver our dinner here, and we didn’t change our clothes or make any preparations. The two of us just sat at my little breakfast table and ate our roast beef and vegetables in silence, like some old married couple far beyond keeping up pretenses. While Clara cleared our dishes away and turned down my bedding, Roman helped me into my pajamas. Then he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed right into bed with me, as if it was our regular nightly routine.
It wasn’t, it isn’t , and still, I’m strangely at peace with my monster lying right beside me. His chest is pressed tightly against my back, a possessive arm banded around my waist. I can feel his warm breaths rustle my hair, slow and measured. He’s asleep. I’m not.
I shift my weight to get more comfortable, Roman’s cock stirring to life against my backside in response to the barest movement. Maybe he’s dreaming of me. Do I want him to dream of me? Sometimes I dream of him.
Filthy scenes that have featured in those dreams filter into my mind, a gentle throb starting up between my thighs. I squeeze them together tightly, arching against Roman as I adjust my position. His cock thickens, a low groan rattling from his throat as he splays a palm against my belly.
“Do you need something, wife?” he growls, his voice rough from sleep.
“Yes,” I breathe. Why bother denying it at this point?
His chest vibrates with a low hum as he slides his hand down into my silk sleep shorts, deft fingers finding my clit and rubbing it in tight, controlled circles. “Is this what you need?”
“Mhmm,” I whimper, sinking my teeth into my lower lip as he plays my body like the strings of a harp. I pant and writhe against him as he works me up, then he tosses the covers away, strips us both bare, and climbs on top of me, parting my thighs and coating the tip of his dick in my wetness.
“You need your husband to fuck you, Eliza?” he murmurs, teasing my clit with his velvety crown.
“Please,” I rasp, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him in closer.
He plunges inside me with a throaty growl, the muscle in his neck straining as he works himself deeper. I moan as he stretches and fills me, pleasure scorching my veins as he rides my body. This is the only thing that’s real. This is the only time I’m completely, unapologetically, me .
Hooking an arm behind my back, Roman yanks me up from the bed, my nipples scraping against his chest as he rocks back and pushes up to his knees. I grip onto his shoulders for leverage as he starts bouncing me up and down on his cock, his hands directing my hips and our ragged breaths mingling in the space between us.
As caught up as I am in the moment, a sudden flash of movement in my periphery yanks me right out of it, every muscle in my body tensing as I jerk my gaze toward it.
“The shadow,” I hiss under my breath, blinking into the inky darkness beyond my bed.
“Shh, there’s nothing there,” Roman murmurs against my neck placatingly. His hands tighten around my hips as he ups the pace of his thrusts, trying to pull me back from my distraction.
It doesn’t work, though, because I can’t stop staring at that spot, wondering if my eyes are playing tricks on me or if I’ll see it again.
Roman relents with a disgruntled sigh, tipping forward to lay me back down on the bed and pulling out. Then he swiftly rolls away and for a second, I wonder if I’ve offended him. When he climbs off the bed and steps away, I wonder if he’s about to leave me to the ghosts. Then I watch him pluck his tie from his neatly folded stack of clothes, bringing it back over with him.
Grabbing for my ankle, Roman yanks me over to the edge of the bed, gazing down at me through the dark and cocking a brow. “You like games, don’t you?”
I bite my lip, nodding.
“Lift your head.”
I comply, and Roman leans over me with the tie between his hands, placing it over my eyes and tying it around my head. The abrupt loss of sight is jarring, my pulse kicking up as he checks to ensure it’s secure.
“How’s that?” he asks after making a few more adjustments to my blindfold.
“Good,” I breathe, dropping my head back down to the mattress.
He trails his fingers over my body as he leans back. “Can you see anything?”
“No.”
His touch vanishes. “Then let’s play, pet.”
He sounds further away now, my body coiling with anticipation for whatever he’s planning. The deprivation of one sense heightens the others– I’m suddenly more attuned to sound, smell, touch…
I flinch as Roman’s hands land on my knees, shoving them apart before coasting up my inner thighs. Adrenaline pumps through me, my heart pounding as I feel his warm breath fan against my center, his stubble rasping against my inner thighs. My muscles tense, heart pounding.
The first swipe of his tongue has a needy cry falling from my lips, body shuddering as he begins feasting on me like a ravenous beast. Without the ability to see him, it’s like I feel him so much more– his harsh grip on my thighs, every demanding stroke on his tongue. He suctions his lips over my clit, grazing it with his teeth, and I damn near combust.
As he sucks and nips my clit, driving me closer to the precipice of release, his fingers suddenly latch onto my nipple. He pinches hard and my back arches, toes curling at the fusion of sensation. I’m right there , dangling right on the edge, then his mouth is gone. He withdraws all touch. I pant breathlessly, whipping my head back and forth, tempted to rip off the damn blindfold…
His hand presses against my inner left thigh, his cock notching at my opening. I barely have time to register his new position before he thrusts in deep, pinching my clit as he slams home. I instantly detonate, screaming through my orgasm as he pounds into me, the friction prolonging my pleasure.
My body goes limp against the mattress as I come back down to earth. Roman pulls out, my pulse picking up speed when his touch leaves me once again, anticipation building. I cry out as his teeth close around my hard nipple, fisting the sheets while he soothes away the sting with his tongue. The saliva he leaves behind makes it harden even further as he retreats and I lay frozen in suspense, awaiting his next advance.
He's between my legs again, pushing inside.
“ Fuck, Roman !” I whine, reaching out for him. My fingers brush against his skin, but he keeps just out of reach, forcing my legs wider and drilling his cock into me with controlled, forceful thrusts.
A hand on my thigh. A hand on my belly. Suddenly it feels as if his hands are everywhere , his presence all consuming. Without my sense of sight, his touch is all I have to anchor me in this place and tether me to this moment.
His fingers play with my clit, working me up again until I’m shuddering through another climax. Roman continues his torturous game, changing up his position and keeping me on edge. It isn’t until I’ve come for a third time that he follows, pulling out and groaning as I hear the distinctive sound of him fisting his cock. Warmth splashes against my belly as he marks me with his seed, ropes and ropes landing on my skin. I reach down to rub my fingers through his mess, swiping them across my lips and licking his taste away with my tongue.
“Good girl,” Roman drawls, and I swear a little aftershock of my orgasm ripples through me at his praise.
I wilt against the mattress, panting up at the ceiling as I hear the pad of his footsteps move away from the bed. He returns soon after, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he climbs up alongside me and begins untying the blindfold, the black silk sliding away.
I blink my eyes open, pushing up on my elbows as my vision slowly comes into focus. My husband is right beside me, reaching over to clean my belly with a damp cloth. There’s so much cum.
“I think it’d do you some good to get off the estate,” he comments as he wipes his mess away, pulling me back up to the pillows with him and tugging the comforter over our bodies. “We’ll have dinner at my father’s house tomorrow night.”
“Okay,” I reply breathily, exhaustion setting in. “Red or black?”
“You choose. Andrew will pick you up at eight.”
I tilt my head back to look at him, brows pinching together. “Where will you be?”
“I have business in the city, so I’ll have to meet you there,” he answers, stroking my hair back from my face with his fingertips. “You need to sleep.”
I nod shallowly in agreement, my body melting against his as my eyes slide closed. I do need sleep. And hopefully come tomorrow, my world will start to make sense again.