11. Julia
11
JULIA
I told myself I wouldn’t do this again, not after last night. I didn’t care what was in our marriage contract. Even if I found Roman incredibly moderately attractive, I shouldn’t find such pleasure in this masochistic thing between us. It should have been repulsive, but lord forgive me, I wanted more.
He had gotten the right of it. Seeing that hang-around put her hands on my husband had sent something rotten through my molecules, boiling my blood until I had to interrupt them and force him to take me home.
I told myself it was because he’d fucked me last night and now had the audacity to flirt with another woman, but if I were honest with myself (and only myself because I would never tell him this) I had started to feel possessive of him.
He was my husband, my protector, my king. And I would cut the hands off anyone who dared try to take him from me. I secretly liked this evil game we played. I secretly wanted to play more of it.
After he made me come on his face, he kissed my vulva and inner thighs until I stopped trembling and released my death grip on his hair. When he appeared from under my skirt, his lips and chin glistened with the evidence of how much I’d ached for him, but his cocky smirk made me want to grab my knife and stab him.
“Look at how flushed you are, little wife,” he said, pushing to his feet, towering over me yet again. I tried to act like the sight of such a powerful man on his knees for me had no effect on my ego, but truthfully, I nearly wilted at the sight. “I think you liked that.”
“You should be so lucky,” I said, my voice cracking despite how desperately I wanted to sound serious.
“Still lying?” He tutted me like a disapproving authority figure before wrapping his strong hands around my throat again, tilting my face up to his, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Such beautiful lips, and you use them to say such terrible things.”
“I hate you,” I said. It was a weak defense, but he’d rattled me. The way he held me spoke of adoration, and the ease with which he’d licked me to a mind-blowing orgasm had me pulsing in disbelief.
“Hmm, of course, you do.” He yanked me forward to collide his lips with mine, and the fierceness of his kiss sent sparks down my spine and the backs of my legs. He licked at me, forcing me to open my mouth so he could shove inside, invading all parts of me, tasting like me and him and the beer he’d been drinking before we left the clubhouse. We wrestled with each other, but he ultimately dominated me like I knew he would, like I wanted him to. When he pulled back, he stared down at me with that haunting mix of ruthlessness and villainy in his eyes. “I think that mouth is better suited for something else.”
I swallowed, my throat gone dry for what I anticipated would be next. My heart pounded and butterflies lined my stomach.
“I think you should get on your knees and fuck my cock with your throat.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, and I opened to let him dip inside.
Any number of insults passed through my mind, and the urge to let them all out tested my restraint. I’d been raised a mafia princess in the richest family in DC. Men got on their knees for me. The thought of lowering myself for him bucked against everything I’d been brought up to think about myself. But heaven help me, Roman was unlike any other man I’d ever been with. Wealth, station, last names, none of that mattered anymore. All I had in the world was his. I was his .
He’d turned my legs to jelly with his tongue, and I wondered if I could do the same. Could I have the same control, the same power, over him because of what I could do with my mouth?
I raised an eyebrow and slowly kneeled in front of him.
Surprise flickered through his expression for only a moment before he shut it down and returned to his stoic dominance. He widened his stance when I coasted my palms up his thighs to his belt, carefully undoing the metal clasp and sliding the leather through it. He removed it entirely while I worked on the button and the zipper. Then, I pulled the waist of his boxers down so I could free his cock. I hadn’t gotten a look at it last night, though I felt through his sweatpants that it was big. Up close like this, I almost backed out. I almost pushed to my feet and told him there was no way I could deep-throat him, but doing so would mean he’d win. I’d never been one to balk at a challenge, especially not with him. I wouldn’t start now.
“Well, get to it,” he said, causing me to meet his gaze as I grabbed the base and licked the entire underside of him. His velvet skin tasted clean and salty, and there was something distinctly him that made my cunt throb as another surge of arousal hit me. He groaned and leaned his head back, but that urged me on. I took the tip in my mouth, sucking and lapping over the slit, swallowing down a drop of precum that amped me up even more. I liked how he tasted, and when one of his hands dropped to my head, I liked the way his fingers curled in my hair.
He encouraged me down on him, and I complied, thankful he’d given me the cue. I wanted to learn how to do it right…for him…and any guidance worked in my favor to make him melt. When he looked down at me and guided me, I hummed in appreciation. He grinned, evidently liking that sensation, and I relaxed my throat to take him all the way.
It burned, and I gagged, choking around the thick girth of him, but when his hand clenched on the back of my head, I figured he liked that, too. I hadn’t done this in a long time, so long that I embarrassed myself by heaving on the third or fourth thrust. But I didn’t let that disrupt my goal. I wanted to win this battle of wills.
My eyes watered and slobber dripped from my chin, but that, too, turned me on. I wanted to get sloppy for him, knowing he’d made me that way. I was a princess the rest of the time, prim and put together and expensive. But here, on my knees, for my husband, I would ruin myself.
I’d let him ruin me. For surely, there was no one else I could do this for, no one else I wanted to do this for.
He held me by the crown with one fist and wrapped the other around my jaw, his fingers massaging my throat while I took him as deeply as I could. A few more ruts, and he paused there, letting my esophagus convulse around him while he moaned and pushed his hips forward even more.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The edges of my vision started to soften, and just when I thought I’d have to stop, he relented and pulled out, staring down at me with that confusing affection while he stuffed himself back in his jeans.
“What a good little cocksucker you are,” he said, wiping the spit off my chin before running his knuckles along the tears on my cheeks. “Do you like being my wife? My little Caputi whore?”
The degradation should have insulted me, but instead, I took a deep breath and dropped my gaze to the ground. Shame rolled in my chest at how much I did enjoy it. No one else saw me like this, and I’d signed a contract that said no one else ever would.
“Oh, I think you do,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Now be a good girl and stand up.”
I complied, far more easily than I would have liked, rising to my feet with tears on my cheeks. I was certain my mascara had run down my face and my lipstick had smeared, but perhaps he liked that because he grinned and nodded to the door for his bedroom.
“Undress and get on my bed.” His commanding tone left little room for debate, and I swallowed against my sore throat, knowing where this would lead. He would take me hard, perhaps even harder than he had last night, and I would like it. My feelings for him would only get more complex. That wasn’t what this was supposed to be about, but how exactly did I plan to have children with him if I didn’t have sex with him?
Perhaps I hadn’t expected to like it as much as I did. Perhaps I had only thought it would remain clinical, that we wouldn’t be as compatible as we were.
“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “If you want to stop, tell me to stop. You can always?—”
“No,” I cut in, afraid he would end this before it even began. I didn’t know how to tell him I enjoyed it when he was rougher, when he made the decisions so I didn’t have to. “I’m just surprised you can operate a brain and that giant cock at the same time.”
At first, he smirked like he had decided to take that as a compliment. But then he grabbed my upper arm and hauled me into his room forcibly, kicking the door closed behind him. His grip pinched, but that added to the experience, and when he tossed me on the bed, I bit my lip to keep from smiling. That would only make it worse. I landed on my hands and rolled over to look at him. He stared down at me like some kind of menacing villain, and I shivered thinking about what he might do to me.
“Take off your clothes,” he said. “I won’t say it again.”
Maintaining eye contact with him, I climbed off the bed to unzip my dress, shoving it down to my ankles so I could step out of it. The bra went next, and when I stood naked in front of him, he grabbed his cock through his jeans and eyed me up and down with a pleased tilt to his mouth.
“Lie back and spread your legs. Show me that beautiful wet cunt.” He walked around to the end of the bed so he could have the best vantage point, and I did as he asked.
My body seemed to comply before my mind could fully catch up, and I simply…let go. I enjoyed giving him control over the situation. It made the constant chatter in my brain die down, and I knew that if he wanted this, he’d take care of me. I had no reason to think he wouldn’t.
The duvet was soft under my shaking body and I laid my head on the pillows, bending my knees as I opened them for him. I’d certainly shown myself to lovers before, and Roman himself had even gotten up close and personal, but to be so blatantly on display sent a self-conscious heat through my veins. Cool air rushed in between my thighs, and I gasped, my pussy suddenly so needy and throbbing for him. I reached down to cover myself, but he was suddenly there, swatting me away.
“Don’t you dare hide,” he said. “Not from me.”
I swallowed and nodded, clenching my hands into fists at my sides, refusing to back down from him. He yanked his shirt off and shoved his jeans to the floor before doing the same to his boxers. Now, we were both exposed to each other and for the first time since I’d seen him in the mirror, I got a glimpse at his gorgeous body. His broad chest gave way to abs that spoke of his physically demanding job, his arms just as veiny and defined. His adonis belt framed a thin line of dusty brown hair trailing down to his magnificent cock, jutting out straight, pink, and hard, ready for more attention. He had big thighs and thick calves, so much power in one body that I wondered if anything in this world could stop him from taking whatever he wanted.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, kneeling on the mattress. He moved between my legs and rested his hands on my knees, maybe to keep me there or maybe to ground himself in our shared reality.
The compliment was so sudden and unprovoked I nearly gasped, my heart fluttering as my belly dropped.
“So are you,” I murmured.
He hummed and smiled softly, scooting closer so that his cock touched my cunt. I rocked into the connect, especially when he grabbed it to spear the head between my skin, taunting my clit before sliding downward. He teased my entrance, making me arch toward him in anticipation before he moved back up again…toying with me like I was his plaything.
By the third pass, I couldn’t stand the way my body yearned for his. I huffed and tilted my hips so that he went farther in than he meant to, and he hissed in a startled breath.
“Uh, uh, uh,” he tutted, shaking his head as he raised an eyebrow. “That was very naughty.”
He pulled away and slapped my cunt, rattling my clit so hard I cried out and tried to twist away. But he held me there with his massive body, my knees tucked under his shoulders, keeping me in one spot.
“Only good wives get my cock,” he said, leaning over me to bring his face above mine. “Are you going to be good?”
I squared my jaw and glared up at him, debating whether I would oblige this game or tell him to fuck off. But I did want him. I was so worked up and ready that I thought I might physically combust if he didn’t do it. I could get myself off in my room, but I wanted him to do it.
For the first time in weeks, I could admit that to myself.
I wanted my husband, and I wanted him to want me.
“Yes,” I said, my voice hoarse with desire. “Yes, I’ll be good.”
“We’ll see about that.” He grabbed my arms and moved them above my head, crossing them at the wrists. “You stay just like this. Can you do that?”
I nodded.
“Use your words, little wife,” he said, nudging my nose with his.
“Yes,” I replied. “I’ll stay like this.”
His grin lit up his entire face, and I realized how expressive his chestnut eyes actually were. In them, I could see how much he also wanted this, and he rose again to sit back on his feet, dropping his gaze to the space between my legs. He ran his fingers over my sensitive wet flesh, spreading my labia so he could explore. The touch frustrated me only because I wanted him to fuck me already, but lord, it was so erotic. I’d never had anyone take their time getting to know my body like this, like he was trying to map the entirety of me and memorize every piece. When he pinched my clit and pulled, I made a noise somewhere between a yowl and a moan, and I curled off the bed, trying again to close my legs around him.
“Such a pretty cunt,” he said, holding me open for him. “And it’s all mine, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes,” I said, tensing my arms to keep them above my head. I didn’t want him to stop, not now. I wanted to be good for him, only him, so good.
“Tell me it’s mine,” he commanded, that mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
“It’s yours,” I complied, far too eager for my liking. “It’s all yours.”
“That’s right.” He leaned over me again, lining himself up at my entrance before surging home all in one thrust, all the way to the hilt.
Air rushed into my lungs and I held it, the sensation of being filled at war with the tender ache of being stretched so completely.
“And this?” He nodded down toward his cock, retreating only an inch before rutting in again. “This is all yours. Do you understand?” Another short ease out before a harsh shove in.
“Yes.” I sighed, the word sounding more like a breath than a syllable.
He held himself up with one arm and grabbed my chin with the other, forcing me to face him. “I mean it, Julia. No hang-around gets to touch. No one else.”
The use of my real name snapped something deep inside, and being connected to him like this created an emotional backlash I wasn’t prepared for. It was like there had been a rubber band between us, stretched nearly to its breaking point by how we’d ignored and treated each other for weeks. And now it had been let go, snapping its recoil on tender flesh, and my eyes burned like I wanted to cry.
“And if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way,” he continued, fucking me slow and deep, rubbing at the delicious spot inside me. “I’ll kill them. Understand?”
My nerves fired on all cylinders as I wrapped my legs around his lower back, hooking my ankles together so I could urge him in harder and faster, consuming all of him and all of me.
“You’re mine,” he mumbled, leaning down to kiss me, making me tremble again.
“Please,” I said in between his frenzied taking. “Please, can I touch you?”
“Touch me, little wife,” he said. “Make me yours.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him closer while I devoured his mouth again. I speared my fingers into his soft hair, yanking and scratching however I wanted, and when my pleasure started to climb, I clawed down his chest, using his stomach muscles as leverage to thrust my hips into his. When I was just about to hit the pinnacle, I reached between us and rubbed my clit, setting off my climax.
It burst through my veins like flames and tightened all of my muscles. I sank my nails into his skin as he continued to fuck me through it, his groans accenting my screams. I’d never come so hard in my life, and I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been so comfortable with someone else. Not Vittori. Not Hugo. Never. Perhaps it was him. Perhaps he put me at ease with this power dynamic between us.
But he wasn’t done. When I came back to my own body, he’d only just started to chase his orgasm.
“Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbled, ducking his head into the space between my neck and my shoulder. He kissed and licked at my skin, uttering other things I couldn’t quite make out. And when he reached his peak, he tensed, his cock jerking violently inside me, filling me with his seed. He hovered there while I held him, my legs still wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck, my cunt clenching around his cock.
He lifted his head and gazed down at me with a destructive passion in his eyes, almost as if he liked me, as if our union had ended far too soon. Roman leaned down to press his lips to mine in a tender kiss that stole my heart, and perhaps I had to admit I liked him, too. Or at least, I liked this awful thing between us.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, trailing sweet kisses over my face. “Flushed and spent and relaxed.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” I said.
He chuckled and pushed up, sliding out of me as he sat back on his feet. I tried not to cover myself up as he ran his hot gaze over the length of my body, from my burning cheeks to my racing heart and down to my slippery, wet cunt. I wanted to put my hand there to shield the mess of our joining from his sight, but something about his demeanor told me he wouldn’t let me even if I tried.
Then he did something none of my other lovers had ever done. He reached between my thighs and ran his fingers over me, scooping up his cum and shoving it back into my vagina. I gasped and arched into the touch, still too sensitive for this abuse. But he didn’t seem to care. His searing gaze held me in place while he did what he wanted.
“You know,” he said in a low husky voice, “I always wanted kids. I want a big family.” He continued playing with me, with our combined cum, while he talked, gathering whatever leaked out and pushing it back inside. “I can’t stop thinking about what it might be like, what you might look like, all swollen with my child.”
I didn’t know what to say. This was the first time he’d ever been vulnerable with me, and maybe it was the after-sex hormones that made me soften to him, but at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to wrap him in my arms and never let him go again.
“Would you want a boy or a girl?” I asked, meeting his gaze when his eyes shifted to me.
“I don’t care,” he said. “Doesn’t matter to me. What about you?”
I shrugged. “I suppose I don’t either.”
“Did you want kids? Ya know…before this?”
Letting out a small laugh, I shook my head. “I grew up Catholic, and even if my family aren’t good Catholics, I always knew it would be expected of me.”
“That’s not what I asked.” When he was finished playing with my cunt, he put his hands on his thighs and sat there, expecting an answer from me.
“Yes,” I said. Though I had always expected to have them with Hugo, not the president of my family’s enemy.
He nodded and glanced to the bed, perhaps reading the solemnness in my eyes, before climbing off the mattress. “Stay there. I’ll get something to clean you up.”
“Don’t bother,” I said, rolling to my side so I could stand. “I’ll take a shower?—”
“Julia,” he cut in. “Please. Let me.”
His begging stopped me, and I froze to look at him. He had his hands on his hips and a soft expression on his face, as if it was his honor to do it. So I let him. I lay down and spread my legs, and he returned with a warm washcloth to wipe away anything he hadn’t played with. When it was done, he nodded toward the primary bathroom and grinned.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s play pretend some more and shower together like a real couple.”
I should have told him no. I should have insisted I go back to my room and clean up by myself. But I couldn’t resist him, not when he looked so damned adorable. So I took his hand and let him lead me to the amazing walk-in shower with four showerheads.
“Wow,” I said, glancing around.
“Ru’s father helped me renovate this part of the house. We were working on the rest before he got arrested.” Roman turned on the water and held out a hand to gesture me inside. “But I’ll finish it one day.”
I smiled and ran my gaze over the assortment of shampoos and conditioners, mostly male oriented, but when I got to the end, I paused. Right next to his sat my favorite brand, new bottles of the exact versions I used. Picking one up, I scowled and turned to face him.
“What’s this?” I asked.
He ran a bar of soap over his muscles and grinned. “I wanted you to be comfortable.”
“In your shower?” I sneered and opened the lid, but he took it from me and poured some into his hand. “Quite presumptuous.”
“Well”—he moved behind me so he could run the shampoo through my thick hair, massaging and rubbing at all the right spots to nearly have me moaning—“you’re here, aren’t you?”
“Mr. Montgomery,” I said, pretending to be offended. “Don’t tell me this was a ploy all along just to get me wet and naked.”
He chuckled low in his chest and leaned down so his mouth was right next to my ear. “Mrs. Montgomery, there’s not much I wouldn’t do to get you wet and naked.”
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed and leaned into his touch while he cleaned me.
“Is this your first time experimenting with kink?” he asked.
I tensed, unsure what he meant. Was that what we were doing? I’d always liked it a little rougher in bed, but I’d never been so quick to heed a lover’s demands.
“Yes,” I finally said.
“How do you feel?” he asked, massaging the shampoo deeper into my scalp.
“I like when you tell me what to do,” I said. “It’s like…it’s like I don’t have to think anymore.”
“I like taking control,” he said, his fingers working down my neck into my shoulders. “I like when you give in to me. It makes me feel powerful.”
“Is this unusual, what we have?” I turned to face him, squirting some of his shampoo on my hand so I could do the same to him.
“No, not at all.” He let me wash his hair, even leaning his head back and humming when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. “But if you do like it, there’s a lot more we could do. We could explore the dominant/submissive thing…only if you want to.”
“I’ve never done anything like this.” I’d been raised a good Catholic girl, and even though I’d had sex with Vittori, it was extremely conservative. Hugo had been more traditional. He’d wanted to wait for marriage. We didn’t do much more than heavy petting. It had never been anything like this. Roman was the only man to ever fuck my throat.
“I’ve never been in a relationship with someone I’ve done kink with,” he admitted, his voice low and husky like it pained him to say.
Are we in a relationship now? I supposed we were, even if we were doing it backward.
“How would that work?” I couldn’t help my curiosity.
“There are lists online,” he said. “I’ll print two off. You fill out one, I’ll fill out the other. Then we’ll compare and see what we have in common.”
A rush of heat coated my veins, but I wasn’t sure if that was anticipation or nervousness. Still, never one to back down from him, I nodded. “Okay.”
“There are limits to this thing,” he said. “We don’t have to… pretend… in public. Only in private. There’s a lot more I’d want to do to you, but only if you consent to it.”
Consent. I nearly melted when he said it. I’d been called beautiful my entire life. I’d started growing boobs in middle school and hips before I was in high school. Older men had touched, pinched, and grabbed at me for as long as I could remember. No one had ever asked me for what I wanted.
Standing under the scalding water with Roman, I could have dropped to my knees and begged him to marry me again. He was so sweet, so tender and caring. I didn’t deserve him, not one bit. And I cut off that line of thinking with a harsh smack to reality. We had a bloody, violent history between us, and thoughts like that were dangerous. Those types of emotions made me vulnerable. Falling for him, letting this be real, it made me weak. After Hugo, I swore I’d never be like that again. I’d been cursed with my family, and there would never be an escape, not while Gabriella still lived.
“Do some research,” he said. “My sister’s website is a good place to start. She’s got lots of videos explaining what kink is and what a healthy lifestyle looks like. Then, we can have that conversation.”
“Thank you, Roman,” I said, too emotional to meet his gaze. “Thank you for all of this.”
He touched my chin and forced my eyes to meet his again. “Hey, we’re in this together, right? We might as well make the most of it.”
I nodded and pushed up on my toes to kiss him before grabbing the washcloth to suds it up and rub circles over his muscular frame. We joked and teased for the rest of the shower while we took turns soaping each other thoroughly. We talked about our families and what it was like growing up in our respective clubs, and not once did we mention our arrangement or how this was supposed to be pretend. And when he made me laugh again, I decided I liked Roman Montgomery perhaps a tad too much.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said, shutting off the water when we were done.
“What?” I didn’t believe he’d meant it.
“In my room. In my bed. Stay with me.” Roman wrapped a towel around my shoulders and handed me another one for my hair before reaching for his own, circling it around his waist.
I paused, unsure of what to say. I’d grown used to sleeping on my own, but I could admit I didn’t particularly like waking up in a cold sweat, terrified my aunt or her goons were after me again.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he said. “It’s purely selfish. I don’t want to have to walk across the hall to wake you up when you have another nightmare, as much as I like a knife to the jugular.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved at his shoulder, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer to him, leaning down so our foreheads touched. “Come on. Let’s pretend, just a little longer.”
I took a deep breath and sighed, telling my poor, pathetic heart not to read too much into this. It was fake, just practice for our show in front of his family. But I wanted to give in. For now, I wanted to pretend.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll sleep here. Just let me go get my clothes.”
“No need.” He grinned that beautiful boy-next-door smile and headed back toward his bedroom, opening a dresser drawer to toss me a white T-shirt. It smelled like detergent and him , and my heart fluttered when I lifted it over my head. Now completely consumed by him, inside and out, I’d never felt more claimed.
Julia Montgomery, indeed.
“I like you in my clothes,” he said as he climbed into bed, shoving his long legs under the covers.
“Yeah?” I walked around to the other side and scooted in next to him.
“Yeah,” he said. “It makes me feel like you’re mine.”
“Hmm.” I smiled as he turned off the bedside light, bathing us in the faint moonlight trickling in through the curtains. “If we’re still pretending, then I am yours.”
“What if—” His voice came soft and slow, almost innocent in its quiet demeanor. “What if I wanted you to be mine for real? What if I didn’t want to pretend anymore?”
I took a deep breath and let it go on a slow exhale as my stomach dropped. Maybe I’d been thinking the same thing. Maybe I didn’t want to pretend anymore, either. But he’d killed my family. My family had killed his. We could never— would never— be anything more.
Shoving that down, I snuggled closer to him and rested my head on his chest, relishing the feeling of his fingers tangling in my wet hair.
“We have the rest of our lives to figure it out,” I said.
He seemed to like that answer, and I fell asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat. And when my dreams came that night, they were of dark brown eyes and soft curly hair and tattooed fingers around my throat in a dominant caress.