Chapter 22 Everett
EVERETT
“Hands and knees.” The boredom in my voice is an act. Aurora has no idea.
My blood’s been thick with desire since the ride home, my heart is pounding in my chest.
I can’t stop admiring her.
She’s gorgeous. Fresh out of the shower, her skin smooth. The collar is back around her neck. Rylee or Elena must’ve put it there, and goddammit, I’m jealous.
Jealous of the collar. Of them for touching her.
I don’t let it show either, as I take in the rest of her.
Her hair falls like a curtain over her chest, thick locks spilling across the swell of her breasts. Her hair and her black silk nightgown are hiding her hardened nipples from me.
Un-fucking-acceptable.
My pulse hits my fingertips, begging me to brush those strands aside, to tear her nightgown down the middle.
Desperation clings to me. My control slips.
I want her nipples in my mouth. Want to mark her breasts until she’s black and blue, until her tears spill onto my tongue as I ruin her.
There’ll be time for that.
At the present moment, I’m hard as I envision torturing her.
By making my boredom believable.
It’s real enough to send a shiver rippling through her.
Her breathing quickens, pupils dilate.
“I said…”
One blink, a single flutter of her dark lashes, and she drops to the floor.
Her deliciously terrified gaze doesn’t leave mine. Not for a second.
She’s panting and flushed on all fours, ready for me. Nothing has ever been as tempting. As soul-stealing. As seductive.
Desire, unlike any other, slams into me.
My ribs crack. Looking at her hurts on a visceral level.
I can’t imagine looking anywhere else.
The end of her hair kisses the floor. Her nightgown falls over the curve of her hips, sliding along her ass. Resting softly over her calves.
I left her only this nightgown on the center table in her closet. No bra. No panties.
The material is so flimsy that I can see she stayed bare underneath.
My cock jerks in my pants. Precum dampens my boxers.
I pull my lips in, admiring her from above.
Such a good girl.
Making me even harder in my pants.
Because it’s not just about how beautiful she is. It’s her character.
My rebellious little thief is here to make a trade.
Submissiveness and sex in exchange for my help.
It’s obvious in the way that she doesn’t call me names, doesn’t fight me or tell me she’s never going to the hospital again.
And while I don’t have the answers she’s looking for, I do want to offer her something for being so good.
I’m dying to let her have it, whatever it is. The dull ache in my chest, that’s what makes me do it.
Because she’s hurt. Her parents denied her the information she was owed. They lied to her.
I ache to walk over to her, to shield my wife from anything and anyone who might pose a threat against her.
What a ridiculous idea. Protecting her.
I’m not that person. I won’t ever be that person for anyone, much less for a Clarke.
Ever.
“Everett?” She bats her eyelashes.
I growl at the feelings she evokes in me. They have no place here, in my bedroom, between the two of us.
Silencing them is easy. I stalk over to the bedside table, grab her collar’s remote, to punish her for being a temptation. For the doubts she plants in my head.
She either doesn’t sense the danger or she doesn’t care, spinning on all fours to look at me just in time for me to push the button on her remote.
The low current of electricity has her whimpering.
The second one lands me a pleading stare.
The third turns her elbows weak, and there she is. Dropping to her forearms.
Her eyes darken, drenched in lust. Ass rising high up in the air.
Beneath her nightgown, her thighs clench.
Yes. This is better. When we both know our place.
Her, waiting to be fucked. Me, dying to rail her.
“What were my orders when I stepped into the room?” My voice is sharp as a whip.
She rushes to push up on her hands. Her nightgown moves with her. It touches her in ways I wish my fingers would. My teeth.
Patience.
Aurora dips her chin. “I’m sorry.”
An apology. From her. After being zapped.
Cute.
I see this game is far from being over.
“You’re sorry?” I crack my neck. Roll my shoulders.
More tension takes over my body. Good thing I have her here to relieve it.
“I am.” From this high up above her, with her head bowed low, her eyes look huge.
I don’t want to drown in them. Don’t want to think about them.
None of that.
Taking the remote with me, I cross the room and sit in one of my armchairs. My legs are spread.
Both hands over my thighs, I tell her, “Crawl to me.”
In complete silence, she does just that, crawling on her hands and knees on the hardwood floor. Aurora’s hips sway. Blue eyes fix on mine. There’s desire in her stare.
She needs me.
She might need her answers, but she needs me more than that.
Fuck, my heart.
“You’re being good.” I tilt my head to the side. “What’s changed?”
A grateful sigh. “I have a question.”
My lips quirk up. “No.”
“No?” One of her hands slides up the length of my calf, her touch unsure.
My legs flex at that. At her obvious insecurity.
She’s tame, soft. I need more.
“Princess.” I grind my teeth, keeping my desire in check. “Haven’t you figured it out already? No means no.”
“But you haven’t heard me out.” The pout she’s giving me is real. She isn’t being bratty or trying to trick me.
She’s just being herself. Young. Beautiful.
Motherfucking innocent.
The hell she is.
“Don’t care.” Except I do. Winston and Molly are adamant about hiding Aurora’s biological parents’ identities, and I want to know why.
Secrets are power. I’ll unravel theirs. “You’ll learn fast that being good doesn’t mean I owe you anything in return.
You’re being good because you’re my wife.
You’re my plaything, here to serve my needs. ”
Truth is, she’s so fucking good that I’m having trouble breathing.
From the moment I stood in the doorway, she’s had me in a chokehold.
My fingers crave her. My tongue. My cock.
Her slender fingers on my calf—I need her to keep doing that.
If she insists, really insists, I might crack. I would give her almost anything.
“Okay.” That one word sounds so sad coming from her.
My entire body reacts to her beautiful surrender.
I shocked her, but I’m the one who feels electrocuted.
Refusing to act on it, I wrap a lock of her hair around my fingers and pull her closer to me. I lean forward, casting my shadow over her. “Tell me about your day at the hospital.”
She winces, blinking in confusion. My soft tone doesn’t make sense when I treat her this harshly.
“I had a great time,” she finally says, her tone flat.
Our bodies are as close as they can be. Her arms are pressed between my thighs, the front of them leaning on the armchair.
I bend another inch toward her.
Her breath hitches when she tries to free herself from my hold. I’m going to jerk off to this moment for the rest of my life.
“A great time? Really?” I hiss. “Lying to your husband won’t fucking fly in this house.”
“Fine. It was the worst.” A flare of defiance flashes in her narrowed eyes. She wasn’t planning on this. On me getting under her skin. That makes two of us. “Why bother asking if you already know how it went?”
Of course I know. On the way home, I read Cormac’s detailed report.
The babies she held, I heard about them too. Her tears, fear, and reluctance were also part of his report.
None of that pleased me. Not really.
Hearing it from the source is what I’m after.
Her pain speaks to my soul. So does owning her.
My temples throb. I don’t think this has anything to do with my revenge anymore.
I tug on her hair. “You’re forgetting your place.”
“I’m sorry, I—” Another lie rises in her throat. She thinks better of it, licking her lips. When I’m done with her today, they’ll be swollen. Red. Mine. “As far as panic attacks go, it was bearable.”
Of all the ways she could’ve described her day, she chose this. No complaining or whining. No overselling it so I’d pity her and put an end to this.
It’s as if we’re having a conversation.
Was that why she waited for me here today? Not to get answers?
She wants to talk? To me?
Whatever mind games she’s playing, they have to stop.
Silence hurts. Silence cuts fucking deep.
So that’s what I give her.
The longer I’m quiet, the softer she becomes. Sadder.
Her lips curve down. A low sigh leaves her pretty mouth.
“What’s the point, anyway?” she murmurs, almost to herself. I watch in wonder as she transforms in front of me. As disappointment gives way to indignance. “I fucking suffered, okay? Great job, Everett. You did it. You traumatized me. Happy now?”
I’m anything but. I’m maddened by it.
By her.
The pressure in my cock is agonizing.
“Brat.” I yank on her hair, harder now. Tears spring to the corners of her eyes. Tears of pain. Tears of bravery. “You’re a temptation. The worst kind, Mrs. Alder. You’re getting punished for that.”
Her nostrils flare, her anger making me burn with need. “You’re the one who should be punished.”
“That mouth. I’m going to teach you a lesson.” I shake her head with my grip on her hair. “Take my cock out.”
“I hate you.”
“Don’t give a fuck.” I’m being cruel. The worst kind of man to this woman who occupies every hour of every day. “You had a question.”
She thinks I’m about to come back to her first question.
The hope in her eyes devastates me.
Me. I’m the one who’s suffering.
What the fuck.
A part of my chest caves in on itself. For the pain I’m about to inflict. For the hope I’m about to crush.
What the fuck.
Everything’s going according to plan, and I’m here, disgusted by my own fucking self.
I put the remote on the cushion beside me. “You asked me if I was happy.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle when she realizes I won’t indulge her. Her slumped shoulders are a blow to the gut. To my confidence.
“Well?” she asks eventually.
The profound sadness that’s ruining her, I can’t take anymore. I’m going to fix this, later, by unraveling her parents’ secrets.