Chapter 37
Romeo
Iroll over and reach for my wife, only to find her side of the bed empty and cold. I don’t like it.
Sitting up, my gaze moves around the room. “Lucia,” I call out, thinking she might be in the bathroom, but when I get no answer, I toss back the covers and go in search of her.
I no longer get up early to put distance between us, like I did at the safe house when she first started sleeping beside me. I look forward to mornings now, starting my day buried balls deep in my wife.
When I find the bathroom empty, I make my way to the kitchen. I stop in the doorway the moment I spot her at the breakfast bar. Her back is to me, so I take a second to quietly appreciate the view.
She’s wearing a tiny pair of red boy shorts that showcase her magnificent arse. The fleshy parts of her cheeks are on display, and my mouth salivates. I want to bite them.
There’s a matching red crop top on the top half of her body, but I can’t seem to drag my eyes away from her arse. My hand moves down to palm my cock, and I don’t care why she’s up early or what she’s doing; I’m taking her back to bed.
I will my legs to move as I stalk towards her. “I woke up and my wife wasn’t beside me,” I say as I slide my arms around her waist and bury my face in the crook of her neck.
Her body jolts in my arms the moment I speak, and she quickly turns around to face me.
“You can’t be in here,” she rushes out in a panic as she pushes up on her toes to try and shield whatever it is behind her.
Those words immediately have me frowning. “This is my house, and my fucking kitchen, so I can be wherever I want,” I grumble.
A nervous smile curves her lips. “It’s our house and our kitchen now,” she replies. “So, I have some say.”
A growl rumbles in the back of my throat as my hands move to her hips, effortlessly shifting her to the side.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find behind her, but it certainly isn’t a cake.
“I wanted to get this finished before you woke,” she says, wincing slightly.
“You got up early to make a cake? Why? What’s the occasion?”
“Your birthday.”
My gaze snaps from the decorated cake on the countertop to her. “What?”
“It’s your birthday today,” she says, stepping forward and slinking her arms around my middle. “Happy birthday, Romeo.”
I glance back at the cake, perfectly frosted in smooth swirls of chocolate buttercream. It looks like something out of a magazine.
I don’t move. Not right away. Something in my chest pulls tight, like the air becomes too thick, and I no longer know how to breathe.
She tilts her head, reading me in that way she does, the way no one else ever bothered to learn. “You okay?”
I blink hard. “No one’s ever … done that before.”
“Made you a cake?”
I shake my head slowly. “Remembered.” My voice cracks when I say that word. “No one’s ever remembered.”
Her arms tighten around me. “Well, I did.”
That’s what does it … what almost breaks me.
I fold into her, burying my face in her neck as I hold her tighter than I probably should. Her fingers run up my bare back, soft and slow, grounding me while the storm in my chest rages.
“I don’t know what to say,” I murmur.
I didn’t even realise my birthday was today. I knew it was coming up, but over the years, I’ve brushed it aside. I gave up dwelling on the fact that nobody gave a shit about me a long time ago.
Lucia has short-circuited my brain and is slowly rewiring it to make me believe that I am worth it.
She draws back until her gaze meets mine. “Am I in trouble? Do you want to spank me?”
The hopeful look in her eyes has me bursting out laughing.
I lean down and place my lips on hers. It’s all I can do, without everything else breaking loose. Without showing her the cracks I’ve spent years pretending weren’t there.
I don’t let people see that part of me, the soft underbelly. The scars that still sting. The places no one ever cared enough to look. I’ve built walls high enough to keep out anything that could hurt, and I’ve never let anyone close enough to try … until now.
The way she holds me. The way her delicate fingers caress my spine, I feel it slipping.
I’ve made it this far without falling apart, and I’m not about to now. But damn if she doesn’t make me want to let go. Want to believe someone could actually care this much, just because.
So, I kiss her again. Not to distract her. Not to hide. To say what I can’t in this moment.
It doesn’t take long for my dick to swell, and I’m so desperate for this woman that I don’t bother carrying her back to bed. I lift her onto the breakfast bar instead, careful not to damage the cake she got up early to painstakingly make for me.
I guide her back onto the cold stone countertop and reach for the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her lean legs.
My hands cup the back of her knees as I place her feet on the edge and spread her wide.
I stand there for a moment, just gawking at her pretty pussy. It’s already glistening and ready for me to feast on.
I dip my head, ready to do just that, when I catch sight of the piping bag sitting off to the side in my peripheral vision. I pause for a moment before reaching for it.
The cake looks delicious, but I’m sure the frosting will taste much better when it’s combined with her.
Lucia’s eyes widen for a moment, but when a grin curves her lips, I know she’s okay with what I’m about to do. At this stage in our relationship, I’m quietly confident she’s down for anything. This woman is insatiable.
She’s been living here for over a month now, and the second I broke through her barrier, there was no turning back. Every spare moment I get is spent inside her.
My body has almost completely healed now, so there’s nothing holding me back. We’ve virtually christened every surface in this house, and if there’s a position we haven’t tried, she’s yet to mention it.
I’ve fucked her every which way to Sunday … against the wall, on the floor, in the bath, and regularly in the shower. She’s become my healthy addiction, and I can’t seem to get enough.
I use two fingers to part her lips further as I squeeze the piping bag until there’s a line of frosting covering her pussy.
“Mmm.” I drop the bag back onto the countertop and dig the fuck in. “Delicious,” I murmur against her chocolate-covered, sensitive flesh.
It doesn’t take me long to bring her over the edge, because I’ve become quite acquainted with her greedy pussy, and I know what she likes.
I don’t stop my assault until I’ve drained every ounce of pleasure from her, and when I’m done, I stand back to full height, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and free my cock.
“Since it’s my birthday,” I say, the words tasting foreign on my tongue, “it’s only fair I get to come as well.”
I step forward, grab her ankles, drag them off the countertop and wrap them around my waist.
Once I’ve tugged her arse to the very edge, I grasp my cock and stroke it a few times before lining it up with her opening.
She’s still tight, and so fucking snug, but she takes all of me like a champ.
I’m still being reckless and not using protection.
I haven’t from the start, or even brought the subject up.
I’m also not comfortable asking her if she’s on birth control for two reasons. I don’t want to plant the idea in her head, or spark a conversation that might make her think too hard about what we’re doing. Because if she starts thinking, she might realise she’s not there yet, and may never be.
I don’t want to know that. It’s not that I’m afraid of the answer, but because I know it will gut me.
Somewhere along the line, I went from not wanting kids to yearning for them. I want to see her with my child in her arms, wrapped up in a life we build together. Something that doesn’t have to be earned with violence or fear. Something good. Pure. Ours.
I know she’d be a great mother, and I know what a shitty parent and absent father feels like, and I’d never want my offspring to feel even a fraction of what I did growing up.
I want to break the cycle and be the kind of parent I never had.
My eyes roll back in my head as I bury myself to the hilt in her heaven.
I immediately draw back and thrust back in. I can’t get enough of her sweetness.
Leaning down, I place my lips on hers. “Thank you for my cake,” I whisper against her mouth. “You’re not going to sing happy birthday to me, are you?”
“Of course, I am.”
I groan as I move to bury my face in the crook of her neck, but I can’t seem to stop the smile that curves my lips.
“I have presents too.”
“I don’t need presents, babe. I have you, and that’s enough.”
Her fingers thread through my hair, tangling in the short strands as she tugs my lips back to hers.
My hands grip her hips, anchoring her in place as I ramp up my movements, pounding into her at a feverish rate. She can handle everything I give her, the rougher the better.
She lets me be the person I’ve spent years hiding from the world. She doesn’t just accept it, she welcomes it. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
The deeper I go, the more I push, the more she rises to meet me head-on. No hesitation, no fear. Like she was made to withstand the storm I bring.
It doesn’t harden her; it just draws out more of her strength. More of that fire I love.
Every time I lose control, she shows me just how unshakable she really is. She’s not afraid of my darkness. If anything, she pulls it into the light. And for a man like me—someone who’s spent his life holding back—that kind of trust is everything.
When we were done fucking on the breakfast bar, I sat there and watched Lucia add the final touches to my cake, her focus so intense you’d think it mattered more than anything else.
To her, maybe it did.
I’m not used to people doing things for me without wanting something in return. No angle, no expectation. Just her, showing up for me in a way no one ever has.