Chapter 14 Everett
EVERETT
Once Rylee confirmed she’d helped with Aurora’s collar, she and the rest of the staff retreated to their quarters for the rest of the day.
Leaving me alone on the main floor, waiting for her.
She won’t have trouble finding me here.
This is the largest open space in the house. Part dining room, part living area.
When I moved in, I tore down the wall separating the two rooms myself.
It made sense, design-wise. The house is dark. The more open the space, the less suffocating it feels.
But I didn’t give a shit about architecture when I swung that sledgehammer.
I wasn’t remodeling. I was breaking things.
Destruction—I craved it.
Had fantasized about it for years. Blow after blow, I shattered plaster. Splintered wood.
Satisfaction surged through me, though it was brief, shallow. I was nowhere near calm in the aftermath.
Nothing had ever appeased me for over two decades.
Until now that I have Aurora. That my revenge began to take shape.
I tap my fingers against the glass and metal dining table as I wait.
My gaze sweeps across the room. Over the thick, gray rug beneath the black leather sofas, the matching coffee table.
What would Aurora think of all this? What does she make of me?
I don’t care.
I shouldn’t.
She isn’t here to think. Or wonder.
She’s here to pay for what was done to my family.
The fact that Aurora didn’t take an active part in ruining my family is inconsequential.
The fact that I enjoy fucking my new wife will not save her from me.
I smooth down my black T-shirt, adjusting the ache straining against my jeans. The shower I took in the guestroom did nothing to ease me. I walked out on her hard, and I’m still hard now. Painfully so.
Dammit. I can’t afford to lose control. She’ll be here any minute, and if she spots this weakness, she’ll try to manipulate me.
Breathe.
Inhaling deeply, I let air filter into my lungs. I place both hands flat on the table. The cool glass grounds me. Anchors me.
This is what power looks like.
Restraint. Patience.
Two things Aurora is severely lacking.
I’ve never claimed to be a perfect man myself. But the more time I spend with her, the more flawed I feel. Every crack in my resolve is proof of it. She makes me doubt. She makes me second-guess. And that’s what I hate most.
Deep. Fucking. Breath.
A few more of those and I’ll be back in my body. Back in control.
Fuck it, I am in control.
I’m also alone.
Aurora should be here by now.
Breakfast has been sitting here for a while. Pancakes. Toast. Eggs, cheese, vegetables. A few slices of pie within reach.
The coffee must’ve gone cold.
I should see her small figure crossing the room, sunlight spilling on her through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I should be mad. I’m not.
Waiting for her in the silence stirs memories I wasn’t expecting.
Good ones.
A sad smile pulls at my lips.
We used to have family nights, just the four of us. Pajamas, popcorn, stupid board games. It didn’t matter what we did. What mattered was that we showed up, even if it wasn’t all four of us at once. Being together, that was what counted.
Mom would pretend not to be competitive. Dad would fake confusion over the rules. Lotus always had some project or surprise to share.
Something to prove she belonged. It wasn’t necessary, ever.
Now they’re all gone.
I’d give anything just to have one of those nights back.
One more laugh.
One more moment.
I sigh, running my hand through my hair when Aurora’s light footsteps reach my ears.
She’s treading down the stairs.
Memories tucked away, I lean forward, forearms perched on the table. Wait for her to come closer. Listen to her padding over the hardwood floors.
She appears in the wide archway a moment later.
Goddamn her. The mere sight of her is a punch to the gut.
She’s gorgeous in her black summer dress, with her brown hair flowing over her shoulders. With her large blue eyes that have doubt dancing in them.
She holds still beneath the archway, her hands clasped in front of her.
Expecting my orders.
Half of me hates that the brat side of her is nowhere to be found. That I fucked it out of her this morning.
The other half… Motherfucker.
I’m not just hard, I’m fucking throbbing.
I’m drinking up her submission. Devouring her fear.
Her collar. Her posture. Her silent plea not to come again.
Please.
I. Want. Her.
“Hey,” Aurora breathes out, her voice echoing her fear.
This heat in my chest, the straining in my jeans, they go against everything I believe in.
They’ll ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.
I can’t have it.
My fist clenches on the table.
My free hand snatches the remote from my lap.
Zap.
“Ow.” Her hand flies to her collar, her legs shaking. “What was that for?”
“Hands and knees.” I place the remote on the table next to my coffee.
A silent threat. A reminder of what I’d do if she questions me again.
With round eyes and careful movements, she lowers to all fours.
“Crawl to me.” I wish I could mock her. I wish I’d sounded derisive. I’ll compensate for my failure in other ways. “Keep your eyes on the floor.”
Aurora’s cheeks flush red.
I meant to debase her. What’s really happening is, I’m giving myself time to recover. To pull myself together before I do something worse. Like falling for her.
Without her gaze on me, breathing is somewhat possible.
Next is taming the urge to thread my fingers through her silky hair, which is dragging across the floor.
Her cleavage. The sway of her ass in that dress. I keep telling myself she’s my enemy, nothing more—but fuck, convincing myself is getting impossible.
“Is anyone else here?” she asks once her hands are mere inches from my feet.
“Would that make you wet, wife?” As if she’s my pet, I pat the top of her head. I resent how soft her hair is. I’ve got to get my sick desires under control. “To have an audience? Princess not feeling dirty enough?”
“No, I—” A shaky breath. “Please. I feel dirty enough. I don’t want any more of that.”
That please whispered from her mouth. My God.
“Since you beg so fucking pretty, I’ll have mercy on you. Just this once.” I doubt she believes that. Don’t give a fuck. “No one will be here to watch you being debased.”
“Thank—”
“I’m not that merciful.” I slide my hand down and grab a fistful of her hair. Tug on it until she’s looking at me. “You’ve kept me waiting.”
“I’m sorry,” she grinds out, her voice telling me she isn’t sorry in the slightest.
While crawling over here, her defiance snuck in. She’s pissed to have someone, anyone, demeaning her the way I do.
“I couldn’t get dressed as fast as I wanted,” she mutters through clenched teeth. “And that butt plug… I’m sore. That’s why it took me so damn long.”
Thinking about her fighting her butt plug. About her sore cunt. Her pain.
I’m possessed.
“How am I supposed to believe you?” Hiding my satisfaction, I release her hair, place a finger beneath her chin, and tip her face up. “You could’ve been up there, doing nothing. Avoiding me.”
“Because I’m not lying.”
The flicker of resistance in her eyes makes me lean in, searching for a lie. I test her with a hard glare until her cheeks flush and her chin trembles. Yeah, she’s being honest. But in this house, the truth won’t set her free.
“Everett, I’m telling the truth,” she insists, saying what I already know.
“Prove it.” It takes everything in me to feign boredom. I hate her. I crave her. My entire body vibrates around her. “Let me see you.”
She opens her mouth to talk back. Snaps it shut.
Aurora’s hair swishes as she shakes her head.
I raise an eyebrow. “No?”
“No. Oh, and,” she adds, “taking my pills took another minute.”
Cute. She thinks she’s taunting me by letting me know I don’t have a chance in hell of getting her pregnant.
Well, well. Technically, she’s not wrong.
She did take a pill.
A placebo.
She’ll find out about it when I decide it’s time. Hopefully, when it’s too late.
Until then, I play the part. Pretend to be furious. I clamp my mouth shut and wrap her hair in my fist again.
I bend toward my whimpering wife, my face hovering over hers. “Did I give you permission to take your pills?”
“No.”
“Did I ask whether you took your pills or not?” I shake her lightly.
“N-no.” Aurora’s hands come off the floor. Her balance is off with how carelessly I hold her.
She braces her hands on my knees, fingers flexing over my jeans.
The touch reaches through my clothes, lighting my skin on fire.
“What did I ask then?”
“To be on time. To let you see me.” She smells of mint; her hot breath tickles my lips. Leaning into her filthy mouth and biting her wounded lip would be the easiest thing. “And my ass. Oops, did I forget to tell you that I removed my nail polish too? And I shaved myself too.”
“You were waxed yesterday.” Without waiting for her answer, I lift one of her arms, looking at her armpit.
I’m treating her worse than I ever treated anyone, and she senses it.
Her lips twist, her hate wrapping around her like vines.
“I did it for me.” Aurora isn’t fighting me when I pull her closer by her hair. “I wanted to, so I did.”
I don’t justify her with an answer. I humiliate her by dipping my face into her armpit.
Her skin smells of the deodorant I bought her. Citrusy. Expensive.
She smells better.
What a fucking turn-on, being this close to her. Looking at her breath hitching. Her nipples strain against her dress, since a bra wasn’t a part of the outfit I left for her.
“Brat.” I breathe her in. “Let’s see how well you did.”
I dart my tongue out, lapping it over her armpit.
“Bastard.” She seethes, but her nails sink into my knee and her skin prickles. I really am doing a terrible job of torturing her. “Hate you. Hate. You.”
“You’re clean here.” Ignoring the ache at the base of my cock, I manhandle Aurora, dragging her off me and spinning her until her ass is right in front of me. “You said you were sore. Must be swollen. I want to see for myself.”