Chapter 13
It’s the light that wakes me, hours after I’ve curled up on the overstuffed armchair with my phone.
I’d intended to read something smutty. Something funny.
Something that would take me away from the awful reality that I’m married to a man that seems to hate me and is determined to make me feel as alone as possible.
The bright light shining from the bathroom onto my face hurts my eyes as I wake up. I don’t remember turning on the lights. It had been completely dark in this tomb of a room when I’d climbed into the chair.
A figure steps into the doorway of the bathroom, blocking enough of the brightness that I can make out his silhouette. Broad shoulders, enough height to almost touch the top of the door frame, but it’s his aftershave that gives him away.
“What time is it?” I mutter, fumbling for my phone that’s lost in the blanket on my lap.
“Nearly two in the morning.” He steps out of the doorway.
Enough sleep leaves my mind that I can focus now. He’s shirtless, shoeless. My mouth waters. Pantless, even. Only a pair of black boxer briefs hug his muscular body.
“I didn’t realize this was your room. The housekeeper didn’t tell me that; she just said to use this room.” I catch my phone just before it slips off the chair.
“That’s Mrs. Popova. And where else would she tell my wife to sleep, if not in my room?”
I rub the heel of my hand into my eye. It had been a deep sleep. A comfortable sleep.
“I don’t know, the dungeon?”
His mouth kicks up at the side, like he wants to smile but if he did it might make me think he doesn’t despise me. And he can’t have that.
Not after all the effort he’s gone to so far to remind he how miserable he is about all this.
A situation that I’m also in, by the way. It’s not like it was my decision to marry someone I’d never met before. Someone who has a monster inside of him.
“How did your date with what’s-her-name go?” Leaving the blanket bunched up on the chair, I slide off.
As awake as I am now that he’s home and glaring at me, I’m still exhausted.
It’s like my body reached the threshold of the stress it could hold for one day and has simply shut down. At first, when the SUV pulled away from the airport I was furious with him for dumping me off with his men again. But by the time we arrived at his brownstone, I realized it was a gift.
Alone, I was able to meet his housekeeper, a sweet, older woman with silver threads through her dark hair.
She’d been kind enough to show me where the essentials were: the bathrooms, the kitchen, the snack pantry—that’s what she called it, because that’s what Kaz called it—and then which bedroom I could use.
My suitcases were already in the bedroom when she brought me up. I’d changed into a cotton nightgown, brushed out my hair, and pulled it up into a messy bun and sought out the dark corner of the room to fall into a book.
But he’s here now. My solitude gone, and with it my peace.
“I had a meeting,” he says.
“And it lasted until two in the morning?” I put my hand up to stop him from answering. “Don’t answer that. I don’t care.”
“You’re not a good liar.”
“I’m sure you’re fluent in it enough for both of us.” I bring my phone to the charger I plugged into the wall next to the bed.
“That’s my side of the bed,” he says after I get the phone plugged in.
“What?”
“That side. It’s closest to the door. My side.”
I look at the bed, it’s big enough for four people.
“How about you give me another room, then you can have all the sides of this one?”
His eyes narrow a fraction. “You were less of a smartass last night.”
“You were less of a murderer last night, too,” I say before thinking.
“A murderer?”
“Isn’t that what you call someone who kills another person? And you killed three.”
Silence descends while I move to the opposite side of the bed and get my phone set up on the nightstand.
“You want to have that conversation right now?” He folds his arms over his chest. Even in the dim lighting, I can see the muscles flex.
It would be so much easier to remember I’m supposed to hate this man if he would stop looking so damn sexy.
I rub my hands over my face.
“No. I don’t want to have any conversation right now. I just want to go to sleep and forget about today. And put off dealing with tomorrow.”
When I drop my hands, he’s in front of me. He’s so close the tips of his toes touch mine.
“Last night was better,” he says softly, almost kindly.
“Last night we were different people.”
He knuckles my chin until I’m looking up at him. My stomach aches at the waves of arousal coursing over my body. This isn’t fair.
It’s not right having the devil be so handsome.
“We can be those people again. Tonight at least.”
“You want to pretend we aren’t who we are?”
His hand opens and he cups my cheek, drawing me into him as he kisses me. My shoulders tense, but the moment his tongue pushes past my lips they relax.
My entire body does.
He steps even closer, his erection pressing into my stomach. I fist my hands at my sides to keep from wrapping one around his cock. Remembering how warm, how hard, how thick his cock was last night makes my palms itch to touch him.
When he breaks the kiss, his eyes lock with mine. He watches me with those dark, deviously perceptive eyes as he pulls my nightgown up and slides his hand beneath.
Over top my panties, he runs the tips of his fingers over my pussy.
“You’re already wet for me,” he whispers, moving his mouth to my ear. “Good girl.”
A shiver runs through me. The bastard knows me enough by now to know those words melt my core.
“It has nothing to do with you.” I curl my fingernails into my palms, hoping the bite of pain will snap me out of this sensual trance he’s pulling me into.
He chuckles, a low and dangerous sound, just before sinking his teeth into my neck. I freeze, biting back the moan trying to escape as he runs his tongue over the bite.
“Like I said, you’re a bad liar.”
“You seemed to think I was pretty good at it earlier. You accused me of playing you last night,” I remind him.
He presses his finger against my clit. Only the thin fabric of my panties keeps our skin from touching yet heat spreads as though he’s lit my panties on fire.
“I was angry.” He rubs my clit in a circular motion, kissing my throat again. “I was surprised to see you.”
“You…” I have no idea what I want to say. He moves my panties to the side and touches my clit with his finger.
“I what?” He brings his gaze back to mine, gliding his finger through my wet pussy lips until he reaches my entrance. “Finish your thought.”
I want to. Desperately I want to show him he can’t just touch me and set my world ablaze.
But he’s right.
I’m a terrible liar.
“I don’t remember.” I gasp as he pushes two fingers into me, curling them as he presses against the exact spot the universe created so women would forgive men anything.
“Do you remember your three rules?” He wraps an arm around my waist, holding me to him as he thrusts his fingers into me, finger fucking me as I stand there in a cotton nightgown and a messy bun.
I nod. “Yes,” I answer breathlessly.
“Tell me.”
“If I want you to stop, I say so. If I don’t say to stop, do what you say, and no guilt.” How can my brain remember that, but forget that this man is supposed to be my enemy?
“Very good.” He slips his fingers from me and brings them, glistening with my arousal, to my lips. “Clean my fingers.”
I stare at his fingers. Is he trying to humiliate me again, like he did at the alter?
“Breaking rule number two already?” He presses his fingers to my lips. “Go on, sweetheart, clean my fingers. Unless you’d like your first punishment as my wife?”
My gaze flies up to his.
“Try me.” It’s a taunt. He wants to punish me.
And hopefully there’s a place heaven for fools like me, because so do I.
He grins. “Open up, sweetheart or go to bed wet and wanting.”
Hesitantly, I part my lips, and he shoves his fingers through, rubbing them over my tongue until all I can taste is my arousal.
“Such a good girl, now suck.” His eyes are on my mouth. He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip as I gently suckle his fingertips.
With a groan, he rips his fingers out of my mouth. In a flash, he grips the neckline of my nightgown and tears it down the middle, discarding it as it falls from my shoulders. When he reaches for the panties, I grab hold of his wrist.
“I’ll take them off. You can’t keep destroying my clothes.”
His heated gaze flickers up to mine. “New rule. No panties in our bed.”
I quickly step out of my soaked panties and toss them onto the puddle that is now my nightgown.
“You still owe me a pair from last night, and now you owe me a nightgown.”
He answers by picking me up by my waist and tossing me onto the bed.
“Open those pretty legs for me,” he says while shoving his boxers off.
I lick my lips. His cock is so heavy, so thick, so right there. But when I reach out to touch him, he laces his fingers through mine and brings my hand over my head. Grabbing my other hand he does the same, pinning me against the mattress.
“I’m going to fuck you, sweetheart, and if you want to come you need to ask.” The fat head of his cock presses against my entrance, making me wiggle toward him trying to get what my body desperately needs.
“Bad girl.” He pulls back and roping both my wrists into one hand, he uses the free one to slap my pussy three times, hard and without mercy.
I cry out and try to snap my legs closed, but he’s still between them.
“You don’t take, you wait. Understood?” He gives me a pointed glare. I nod. “Is that how you answer me?”
I swallow, unsure of how much I want to give him. How much can I afford to lend out without bankrupting my soul.
He leans closer, tilting his head so his ear is pointed at me. “Go on, answer me.”
“Yes, sir. I understand,” I whisper.
He grins, satisfied and approving. “Good girl.”
As he says it, he thrusts forward, filling me with his cock. I tense at the sudden fullness, but he doesn’t give me any time to adjust.
And I don’t want it.
The burn of the stretch takes my arousal to new heights. He leans over me, kissing my breast, my throat, nibbling my ear.
“Fuck, baby, you’re tight.”
I pull my legs back even more just to hear his hiss of pleasure. He groans, sinking his teeth into my shoulder.
It’s my turn to moan with pleasure.
He pistons his hips as he thrusts harder.
Letting go of my wrists, he reaches between our bodies and finds my clit. I’m soaked and swollen and so tender that even the lightest brush of his fingertip makes me whimper with pleasure.
“You’re close.” He licks his lips. “You want to come?”
How can he know that so easily?
“Yes, sir,” I breathe, planting my feet on the mattress and matching his thrusts with my hips.
“Then ask.” He smiles. “But don’t you dare come before I give you permission.”
I shake my head. “Of course not, sir.”
How can words feel so physical? I swear this man is going to make me come just with an order.
He strokes my clit, swirling his finger in circles and driving his cock deeper and harder into me with each stroke. My head tingles. My skin feels like a live wire.
I’m a firecracker about to be set off.
“There you are, so close. Go on, ask. Ask me if you come.” He teases with his words, his fingers, his dick.
And I’m getting wound tighter and tighter as he grins down at me with that handsome devil grin. Maybe an eternity in hell isn’t so long.
“Kaz!” I’ve never asked for something like this before. What if he denies me? What if he laughs? What if he makes a joke of it?
“You have to ask. I’ll give you what you want, but you have to ask.” It’s a promise, I think. Or not. I’m not sure; my brain is melted.
Strong currents of tingles run down my spine. My stomach twists with need.
“Can I come? Please, let me come.” I reach up to him, gripping his shoulders. “Please, can I come?”
He grins. “Yes, sweetheart. Come hard for me, let me hear it.”
His pinches my clit, sending me shooting up into the stars as he thrusts even harder, driving me straight into orbit.
I come and I come. My fingernails dig into his shoulders, and I thrust up at him like a woman desperate for every drop of pleasure. I don’t even care if it’s’ not allowed, or if it makes me look desperate.
I am desperate.
I’m desperate for this feeling to never end.
“Fuck.” He grips my hips with both hands, pinning them to the bed as he drives harder into me. “Fuck, yes.”
I open my legs wider, pulling my knees up toward my chest.
His eyes roll, and his head snaps back. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He matches each word with another thrust.
He bites his lower lip and grunts with one final thrust, stilling as his release washes over him. He unleashes his seed into me, groaning as his body empties.
We’re left breathless and sweaty.
His head drops back down, his chin to his chest as he sucks in a deep breath.
I let my hands fall away from his shoulders, fisting the comforter below me.
He lets out a huff, pulls out of me and jumps off the bed.
I’m left watching his bare ass as he stalks off to the bathroom with his boxers dangling from one hand.
After he’s been gone for several minutes, I decide not to keep lying around like some sacrificial lamb and roll off the bed. His cum seeps out of me, sliding down my thigh.
I grab my torn nightgown to clean myself with, then quickly put my panties back on before snagging a new nightgown from the suitcase I left on the ottoman.
By the time he comes back, I’m under the covers, staring up at the ceiling. When he climbs into bed with me, he rolls to his side, his back to me.
Whatever softness there was before is gone. He’s back to being the asshole I met at the altar.
“You…uh…you didn’t use a condom this time,” I say into the darkness.
“You’re my wife now,” he says as though that explains anything.
When he says nothing else, I roll to my side, away from him.
Dragging in a deep breath, I pull the sheets around me like steel armor.
He thinks he’s going to win this war.
He has no idea. I’ve only just begun to fight.