Chapter 10
Ten
NATASHA
Today has not been what I expected. Not at all.
First of all, I married Julian, and although I’m terrified of him, he’s been kind to me so far.
Of course, we’ve only been married for a matter of hours, but he welcomed me into his home and even gave me my own room.
I don’t have to share his bed. If he’s to be believed, I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.
My room has windows that look out to the gorgeous gardens, the likes of which I’ve only seen in magazines or online, a huge bed that looks so soft and cozy with sage green and cream linens, and a massive closet stuffed to the brim with brand-new, colorful clothes.
Color. I get to wear color.
Last month, Elliott took me to a gala, and I chose a blue dress to wear because I thought it made my eyes pop and I felt pretty in it, but when I got home that night, my father beat me for choosing it.
You only wear white.
But not anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I like white, and I look good in it, but I can’t wait to try so many other colors.
After I manage to wiggle my way out of the dress, practically dislocating my shoulder to reach the zipper, I lay it carefully over the chair that sits in front of a small desk and then cross to the attached bathroom.
I don’t know who designed this house, but they should win some sort of an award because everything is just so . . . stunning. But it’s not over the top. It’s not in your face like the opulence of my father’s house, where he’s all about showing off how rich he is.
That’s not this house.
It’s . . . lovely. And although enormous, it’s also homey.
There’s a deep freestanding soaking tub that I’ll be taking a dip in later. The double vanity is marble, the shower is big enough for a party of six, and all my toiletries are already here.
Opening drawers, I discover that my makeup, my skin care, everything has been transferred to this house and put away, as if I’ve lived here for years. As if little elves went into my bedroom at my father’s house and magically moved it all here.
How in the world did he manage to do all of this?
I lift my gaze to the woman in the mirror and take stock.
The bruises on my ribs have faded to a sickly green and thankfully aren’t as sore as they were a few days ago.
Hopefully, Julian isn’t repulsed by them, since there’s nothing I can do about them.
My lip has finally healed enough that it doesn’t split every time I talk or smile and is easily coverable by makeup.
After I strip out of my underwear and pin my hair up, I take a quick shower, careful not to ruin said makeup, and take my time soaking in the hot water. When I get out, I slather on my lotion and then pad into the closet to pull on clothes.
But when I open the top drawer, I’m surprised to discover not just underwear and bras but lingerie too.
New, sexy things.
Lace and satin, with bows and clasps, and I can only deduce that this must be what Julian prefers.
My stomach jitters at the thought of having sex with my new husband, but not in a horrifying way.
Yes, the thought of sex terrifies me, but Julian has only touched me with gentle hands so far.
I don’t think he’d be rough with me. He actually smiled at me earlier, and Julian is always so serious.
So somber. His smile took my breath away.
And when he carried me over that threshold, I didn’t want him to put me down.
That’s new for me.
Not to mention, he held my hand during the entire tour of the house, and both times that he’s kissed me, he was gentle.
So no, I don’t think he would be mean with me during sex.
Honestly, I’m curious to experience it with him.
Julian’s scent calms me and stirs something in my belly, makes my core ache in a way that it hasn’t before.
Perhaps I’m naive, and behind closed doors, Julian is into the whips and chains and all of the scary things I saw in the club that night.
Because when it comes down to it, I don’t really know Julian Stavros at all.
But I know how I feel when I’m around him, and I actually want my husband to touch me.
With a nervous sigh, I pull from the drawer the white lace lingerie, a matching bra and pantie set with a garter belt and thigh-high stockings. Once I have them on, I look at myself in the mirror and have to admit, I look damn hot, bruises and all.
Grabbing the heels I wore for the wedding, I slide my feet in them because they match the outfit, turn to see my backside, which is not covered at all thanks to the white thong I have on, and my ass is on full display. And then I wrinkle my nose.
Because although I look like a woman who’s ready to get it on after her wedding, I feel like I might throw up from nerves.
I’m finally not panicked at the idea of a man touching me. I get to touch him. I have to do things to him to satisfy him and make sure he doesn’t want to punish me.
The perfect wife is always available to service her husband’s needs.
And it’s our wedding day. I’d rather get this over with now so I can get on with it and not be afraid anymore.
So, dressed in my sexy bridal outfit, and trying my best to gather all of the self-confidence I have in me so I don’t embarrass the hell out of myself, I open the door of my bedroom and step out, listening. The house is quiet as I walk to the stairs.
If he has guards in the house, and they were to see me, I’d die from mortification.
But I don’t hear any voices, so I walk downstairs to Julian’s office. The door is open, and when I stop at the threshold, Julian’s eyes come up from his computer and then widen as he takes me in from head to toe.
My husband is stupidly handsome.
He’s changed into a black button-down, with the top two buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, showing off muscles and thick veins that snake down his forearms. I can see tattoos on his right arm but can’t tell from here what they are.
They’re . . . sexy. His thick, dark hair is styled, and for the first time in my life, I want to push my fingers through someone else’s strands, just to see what it feels like.
Julian swallows hard before meeting my gaze with his dark one.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful than you, Angel.”
His voice is rough, and it moves through me like warm honey. I can see from the look in his eyes that he means every word. It gives me the confidence I need to walk toward him. His eyes never leave mine as I cross the room, and yeah, nerves have settled into my stomach.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says as he scoots his chair back, making room for me.
The comment makes me pause. “I’m sorry, do you not want—”
“Come here, Angel.”
His voice is still rough, but it’s firmer, too, and I like it.
I want him to tell me what to do because I’m at a total loss here. I’m no seductress.
When I step in front of him, his eyes narrow as he takes in the bruises over my ribs.
“They don’t hurt anymore,” I whisper. “They just look bad. I’m sorry, I couldn’t cover them—”
“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for that,” he replies as his gaze travels up my torso to my eyes. “What do you plan to do right now, Natasha?”
I lick my lips because I didn’t really plan for anything. I put on the underwear and then came to find him, without any other thought. I have no experience with this. For fuck’s sake, I’m a virgin.
“Um, well, I found the pretty underwear in my drawer, and I assumed you wanted me to wear it.”
His eyes narrow and he tilts his head to the side. “I didn’t choose it, but whoever did is getting a raise.”
My lips tip up into a smile. “You like it.”
“Very much. I had no idea I was a lingerie man, but it seems I am when it comes to you.” His hands grip onto the armrests of his chair, as if he’s doing everything in his power not to touch me.
You don’t like to be touched, and I’m respecting that boundary.
Knowing that he won’t touch me first, and that as his wife, I have obligations, I sink down to my knees and move between his spread thighs, watching him as I reach for the buckle on his belt. His jaw flexes as I unfasten it. I can feel that he’s already hard. So hard.
In the past, this would have sent me running for the hills.
But with Julian, I’m . . . fascinated. Did I do that? I don’t know how that’s possible. I haven’t even touched him.
“You can take me out,” he says with a low voice. “But look at me while you do it.”
My eyes fly up to his, and my breath catches at the fire I see in his gaze. He wants me. I can see it written all over his handsome face.
But he’s letting me take the lead, and that’s the sexiest thing about this whole moment. I don’t feel forced or coerced or shamed.
I feel desired.
And I get to be the one in charge. Or, at least, have a say in how this goes down. Even if it’s only this first time, I appreciate it.
“Is this okay?” I ask him as I wrap my hand around his warm, velvety shaft and nudge his pants and boxers out of the way. He growls and tips his head back, swallows thickly as if he’s gathering himself, and then he pins me in his gaze once more.
“Having your hands on me is every daydream I’ve ever had. Do you want me to give you instructions, or do you want to play?” His jaw is tight, and he sounds almost like he’s in pain.
My eyes drift down to the hardness in my hands, and my mouth goes dry. He’s big. There’s no way I can get all of this in my mouth without choking, but I’d like to try to please him.
“Direct me, please.”
He growls low in his throat, and it sends a shiver through me. His eyes are so dark, so hot, that it makes me bite my lip and squeeze my thighs together. “Good girl. You’re so beautiful on your knees for me.”
Oh, I like that. I like being praised by him, so I offer him a small smile and then lean forward to swipe my tongue over the tip of him, over that little bead of moisture that tastes salty and a little musky, and Julian closes his eyes as his dick flexes in my hands.
“Fuck, you’re going to destroy me.”
That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, and I can’t resist licking him again, then running my tongue along the edge of his crown.
“Open your mouth.”