29. Julia
29
JULIA
SIX WEEKS LATER
I t took me longer to heal than I would have liked. Even after I got the all clear from the doctor to resume normal activities, the pain in my ribs still ached, especially if it had been a long day. But I couldn’t wait anymore. I had an apology to make, and I’d been dreaming about it for weeks.
I put on my sexiest lingerie, a black lace bra, a matching garter belt and thong, and thigh-high tights before I did my makeup. I attached the silk collar around my neck, a blatant indication of what I wanted, and I braided my hair in two pigtails down either side of my head, knowing Roman would like to use them in delightfully perverted ways. I heard him in the other room, the one we’d converted to his office, rummaging around and adjusting his chair. When I knew I looked too beautiful to resist, I put on his favorite pair of heels and walked down the hallway, stopping just inside his door.
He sat behind his enormous desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper in front of him. He wore a white T-shirt and jeans, nothing else, and as much as I loved to see him in his leather, this, too, sent a yearning spike straight down my spine. His hair had been properly mussed, as if he’d been running his fingers through it all afternoon, and his dark, intelligent eyes sparkled as they scanned over the documents.
I squeezed my thighs together, hoping to alleviate some of the tension building between them. At the sound of me stepping into the room, he glanced up and froze. I could tell I’d interrupted something important, but perhaps he could use the break.
“Husband,” I said, sauntering closer.
He ran the length of me with a heated gaze as he leaned back in his seat, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. He touched his fingertips together, brought them to his lips, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
Donning all the self-confidence I could muster despite the huge pink scar on the left side of my rib cage, I walked to the side of his desk and tilted my chin up, trying not to tremble under his scrutiny.
“I left you in the Beacon with hardly an explanation,” I said, turning to lean the back of my thighs against the edge of the mahogany. I put my hands behind me, pushing my breasts out farther before taking a deep breath to slow my racing heart. I didn’t know what I was nervous about. My husband had never rejected me, and even if we hadn’t been intimate since before our wedding, I had no reason to think he would now. Still, I was very aware of how damaged my body had become since then. I’d lost weight, I had more ugly scars, and I’d never be able to inhale fully without grimacing through it. “You said I owed you an apology. I’m here to pay up.”
He twisted his lips into a devastating grin, his eyes lighting up like a little kid who had discovered a bundle of presents under the tree on Christmas morning. I couldn’t wait to be unwrapped.
“Hmm.” He quickly washed away that excitement, training his features into a stoic mask before turning his chair back to his paperwork. “I’m really busy.”
I swallowed against a dry throat, trying not to take it personally. I hadn’t told him about this. I had simply shown up at his doorway and expected him to drop everything for me. Still, the heat of doing all this work only to have him so easily dismiss me raged through my blood, burning my cheeks, curling my hands into fists.
“Oh,” I said, pushing upright again. “I guess I’ll just go fuck myse?—”
He shot his hand out to grab my arm. “I didn’t tell you to leave, wife.”
His tone on that one word locked me in place. He only used it when he was ready to play, when he wanted me in the headspace for a scene.
“What can I do to assist you, husband ?” I bowed my head, pretending to be reverent.
He wrapped a finger inside the metal heart at the center of my collar and pulled, forcing me down to my knees. “Why don’t you use that pretty mouth for something other than apologies?” Without taking his attention away from his work, he nodded under the desk, and I got the picture.
After crawling into the space where he’d tucked his long legs, I situated my body between his knees. I grounded myself in his presence by coasting my palms up his thighs to the button at his waist. He canted his hips, allowing me to push the metal through the hole and lower the zipper. Trying not to tremble with anticipation, I reached inside his boxers to release his already erect cock, gently taking hold of his balls, too. His soft groan urged me on, and I leaned in to lick him from the base to the tip. I loved the way his skin felt like velvet over steel, and when I kissed the head, he let out a barely audible whimper that made me smile.
I could turn such a strong man into a pile of mush, and that emboldened me, making me feel powerful and ruthless. Sucking my husband back, I massaged his cock with my tongue, using one hand to grip and guide him while the other held his testicles the way I knew he liked. He hit the back of my throat and I kept going, gagging around him, tears burning my eyes. But I didn’t let up. No, this was an apology. This was my way of making up for all the times I’d made him feel like I didn’t want him, like he was just a pawn in a much larger game.
Lord only knew how long I was under there. My knees started to hurt, spit ran down my chin, and my mascara had long since dripped down my cheeks. But that was how he wanted me—messy and defiled and soaked in my debauchery. My lips were numb from the friction and my throat ached, but I didn’t let up. I kept his cock warm and played with him while he petted the back of my head and clenched his fingers around my braids, using my face like a sex toy.
That shouldn’t have turned me on so much, but I couldn’t help sliding one hand between my legs when he started gasping and moaning above the desk. I liked being his little wife, his little Caputi whore. It cleared my mind in a way nothing else could and made me feel connected to him.
After centuries under his desk, he finally pulled my head back and slid the chair out from under the desk, staring down at me with his pupils blown so wide, they were nearly black.
“You were enjoying yourself entirely too much for this to be an apology,” he said.
I grinned and wiped my chin with the back of my hand.
He crooked a finger, beckoning me upright, and I crawled out, using his knees as leverage to push to my feet. Roman quickly arranged me on the edge of the desk and gently nudged me so I sat on top of his paperwork, the crinkling under my body adding to the ambiance of my sincerest atonement.
“Lie down,” he said, his voice gruff and hoarse with his arousal. “Legs up.”
I did as he said, eyes widening when he grabbed something shiny from a desk drawer to his right. A knife. Shivers raced over my body when he slid the flat edge up the inside of my leg, teasing the blade along my flesh.
“You know,” he said as he ghosted his fingers over the other leg, grabbing my thigh to guide the toes of my heels to the arms of his chair. “You technically owe me two apologies.”
“I’m not sorry for saving your life,” I replied, gasping when he hooked his index finger into the gusset of my underwear and tugged it away from my skin.
“You’re not?” He laughed out a dark, sick noise that should have scared me. It didn’t. It only made me more excited about what would happen next. “Such a brave little wife.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but he slid the knife under the fabric and yanked, slicing my delicate panties in two.
“Hey,” I said. “Stop doing that or I won’t have any left.”
“I’m sure you’ll find some way to replace them,” he snarled, staring up at me from between my legs. “Now, shut up, and let me enjoy my sweet apology.”
I moaned as he dove in, lapping at me like a starved man, like he could make up for all the lost time between us. He devoured me on his desk, on top of all the work he’d been doing for the last several hours. I arched into the contact, euphoria coating my veins as he sucked on my clit and drove his fingers inside me. He rubbed at the pleasure center inside, and I nearly fell apart.
I’d be a quick trigger tonight. It had been far too long since we last fucked, and now that I had him right where I wanted him, I wouldn’t be able to hold out. My legs shook, nerves mixing with adrenaline and rattling through me. His dark head bobbed as he licked and fingered me, and when he reached his other hand up to wrap around my throat, the dam inside me shattered.
My orgasm claimed me, hard and intense, and I clenched my eyes shut, my cunt tightening down on his fingers. Something released in my lower half, a great loosening that I’d only ever experienced once or twice. Roman rubbed my clit faster, working me through it, and when I finally came back to my body, he coasted his big palm over me as I panted and sobbed.
“There ya go,” he murmured. “Such a good queen, squirting for your king like that.”
“Fuck,” I said, squinting through the tears currently rolling down my cheeks. All of the pent-up emotions had been unceremoniously flooded out of my body. Grief, gratitude, shame, relief, all of it, all-consuming. When I glanced down at Roman, his shirt and jeans were soaked with my cum, and he grinned up at me, his chin drenched with evidence of how turned on he’d made me.
“That was so fucking hot,” he said. “Can you keep going?”
I nodded and reached for him, gripping his shirt to bring him closer. “Yes, sir. Please. I need you.”
“Such a greedy girl.” He shoved his jeans down to the ground and ripped his shirt over his head, shucking it somewhere to the right before gripping my hips and pulling me to the edge of the desk. “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” I said without hesitation, knowing it to be more true now than it ever had been before. “Please. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“You’re goddamned right you do.” He lined himself up and surged inside. I melted into the sensation of being full, of being so complete with him like this. We were connected on more than a physical level, and I never could have predicted it would turn out this way. But I was so grateful that it did.
Roman fucked me on his desk until we both were a spoiled, sopping mess, and then he carried me down the hall to our bathroom, where he sat me in the tub and ran me a bath. When the water level got high enough, he climbed in behind me and laid me back across his chest, running his hands over my arms and neck.
“Thank you for that,” he murmured, pressing tender kisses to the side of my head. “I needed the break.”
“You’re welcome, mi amore. ” I hummed in contentment, so appreciative of the tender way he took care of me.
“But as far as apologies go, that barely counted.”
When I gasped and shifted to look at him, he sank his teeth into my shoulder, holding me firm. I’d known him less than a year, but I understood the playful look in his eyes. “What do you want instead?”
He grinned, and I knew I was screwed.