Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Robyn
D amon plundered the depths of my mouth, his tongue licking and stroking paths of fire and ache, waking the gnawing memory of what it had done to the lower parts of me last night.
I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want him to ever stop.
My hands rose to his shoulders, finding purchase just as he spun my back to the door and crowded me with his big body. Flush to his front, I felt every lethal edge of his muscles as expertly hidden under his bespoke suits as the ferocity he hid under his charm.
I locked my arms around his shoulders, wrenching him to me like that would stop him and his foolish reservations from walking away. I wouldn’t let him. I wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself once more to the darkness in order to keep me safe.
“I tried to warn you,” he rasped against my lips, his teeth nipping at their corners. “To protect you.”
As he teased the angle of my jaw and then the sensitive lobe of my ear, his hands worked at my clothes. The silk of my top cried as he split it, my bra popping open easily to avoid the same destructive fate.
“I don’t want to be protected from you,” I said, shuddering as he cupped my breasts, the tips hard and aching for his touch. My head lolled to the side, welcoming the assault of his teeth on my neck. “Promise me.”
His mouth latched to my skin, sucking hard as though he wanted to drink heartbeats straight from my pulse.
I slid my hand to his nape, gripping his soft hair and forcing his head back. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid for me again.”
His stretched pupils were as black as the night sky as they met mine. For a long second, Damon just stared at me, his fingers suddenly as light as feathers as they swirled around my breasts, up to my nipples, and then back again. Wave after wave of goose bumps marked my skin, shuttling heat down to the warm pool forming between my thighs.
“Damon,” I murmured, my voice tightening to a husk. “Promise me.”
Moving one hand to my left arm, he pulled it away from his head, bringing my hand in front of him, his thumb stroking over my wedding band.
“I can’t promise you, Robber.” His lips pressed to the ring. I didn’t know how he managed to refuse me and yet honor me in the same breath. “I can’t promise you because I would do everything stupid for you—to protect you again.”
I bit into my bottom lip, the pain masking the sudden burn in my eyes. Blinking to clear the moist fog, I watched as he kissed my knuckles and then turned my hand over, my palm splayed open for his caress.
“But I promise I’ve always been yours. Will always be yours.” He paused to kiss the very center of my hand. “And I promise I will always come back to you.”
The painful sweetness of his words couldn’t erase my fears. “And if they kill you?”
That small, devious dimple appeared at the tipped-up corner of his mouth. “People have been trying to kill me for fifteen years, Robber. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
I turned away, hating how he could be so cavalier about this. Sure, I didn’t know the extent of what he’d survived. I didn’t know every dark and hopeless place he’d escaped in the last decade and a half. And I didn’t know if knowing those things would make me feel better or worse.
“Robber…” The warm support of his knuckles lifted my chin and turned my face back to him. “They aren’t going to kill me.”
Now, I was the one who took his hand and brought it to my face.
“They better not. You’re my husband. If anyone is going to kill you, it’s going to be me.” Propping his ring finger above the rest, I took it in my mouth and sucked all the way down to the metal band at the base.
Damon tensed, his exhale releasing in a hot hiss as the hard ridge of him swelled against my stomach. “Fuck, Robber,” he growled and curled his finger into my tongue, tugging my head to his like a fish on a hook. “If you only knew how close you were.”
His finger slipped free with an audible pop, and then his mouth was on mine. One hand fisted my hair, angling my head until I swore he tasted my pulse from the inside of my throat.
God, how I’ve missed this. Missed him.
All the things I fought not to feel, the things I cursed myself for still feeling, they all sprung free like my Damon-sized dam had been torn down .
The kiss deepened until I no longer came back up for air. Heat drenched my core, wanting everything a decade and a half without this man now promised to satisfy. His expert fingers tweaked my nipple, and like there was a direct line to my core, my hips jerked against his, a sweet frisson of friction taunting my clit.
I felt the instant drop of his hand to my waist to steady me, but he wasn’t fast enough. Not before I rocked along his massive length again.
“Fuck, Robber, you’re—” He emitted a deep growl, and the next thing I knew, he was on his knees in front of me. “You’re going to kill me,” he finished, unzipping one boot and then the other, tossing them behind him with loud thuds before working my dark jeans and thong down my legs.
And then in the hottest, most uncivilized manner, Damon took my leg and lifted it onto his shoulder and then repeated the movement with the other, placing my pussy prone and weeping straight before him.
The sight of him staring at me, the ravenous look in his eyes, the feral tic of his jaw…it flooded my core even more.
He swiped his tongue over his lips, and it hit me that this was about to be an unfair fight once more.
“Damon—” I started to push myself up and reach for him, but he was faster.
I fell back with a whimper as he palmed my ass and hauled me to his mouth. The flat of his tongue spread through my folds and licked me from entrance to clit. After last night, the small bundle was so sensitive, the first ripples of an approaching orgasm began to flutter.
Panting didn’t count as breathing the way his tongue whipped pleasure through my body like he’d put it on spin cycle.
“Damon,” I pleaded this time, grasping his head. Tugging. Digging my heels into the muscle of his back to push myself closer to his sinful mouth. “Oh, god.”
He didn’t let up. Far from it. His tongue twirled and flicked over my clit, forcing me higher until he suddenly speared a finger deep inside me. Not just any finger—his ring finger. Burying it so I could feel the intrusion of the metal band of his ring. And it sent me over the edge.
My orgasm gushed out of me, drenching his finger. His tongue. His lips. His chin. I clutched his head, feeling his groan of enjoyment as he lapped up every drop, each drag like another burst of dynamite to my senses.
I didn’t even realize I’d stopped breathing until he drew back and air somersaulted into my lungs. There was something…delicious and tender about a man who continued to pleasure me first without thinking of himself, but Damon had always been like that. His hands and mouth would turn my body to Jell-O before he’d think about filling me with his cock.
But I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to be Jell-O. I wanted my husband. I wanted to come on my husband’s cock like I’d fantasized about for the last decade and a half, and I didn’t want to wait any longer.
“Damon.” I watched him tip back, his beautifully hungry face swimming into focus. “You had your fill of me last night. Now, it’s my turn.”
I gave him a tug, wanting him to rise, and he stiffened in response. Was something wrong? What didn’t he want me to see? I thought back to the scars I’d seen staining the skin of his abdomen and chest. Was there more?
Carefully, he placed my feet on the ground one at a time to make sure I was steady before he stood.
“To be clear,” he growled, licking my desire from his lips and then dragging his tongue along his ring finger, the metal glistening with my desire. “I will never have my fill of you.”
A delectable warmth oozed all the way down to my toes and then back up to my core. He bent toward me, clearly intending to kiss me again, but I stopped him with a hand to his chest. My eyes danced as they met his.
“Well, now, I want my fill of you, husband,” I said and gave him a small push back. My legs wobbled a little, but I ignored them and reached for his shirt, tugging the ends from his waistband.
Tipping my head up, I searched out his stare as my fingers poised on the top button of his shirt. Something I couldn’t make out dulled and then flashed in his gaze, like lightning behind a cloud.
But then his smooth voice promised, “I’m all yours,” and that was all I needed to hear.
I didn’t pop any buttons, but only because they freed so easily for my fingers. Pushing the expensive fabric off his shoulders, I tugged until his bare chest was all mine to admire.
He was so beautifully made. Even after fifteen years, his muscles had only become bigger. More defined. And decorated with scars. My fingers traced the exceptionally smooth spots where his skin had healed from injury. Fifteen years ago, I’d known his body like the back of my own hand, so I knew now which scars were new— that most of them were new.
Some were long and thin, I guessed from a blade. A few were round, and my heart lurched each time I came across one of those. A gunshot wound. I walked around him, wanting to memorize every change to the man who belonged to me…and wanting to hide how the swell of emotion in my chest threatened to break me down.
“How many times?” I croaked, staring at his back, my finger stuck on a third bullet hole on his left shoulder.
“How many times what, Robber?” His head turned, trying to find me over his shoulder, but I moved to stay out of his sight.
“How many times have you almost died?” My voice was nothing but threads, seeing another round scar lower near his right kidney.
A hand launched over his shoulder and snared my wrist, hauling me around him and clutching me to his front. His palm splayed over my face, and if there were any tears that slipped free, he’d caught them all.
“Not enough to keep me from coming back to you.” His head lowered, his lips tentatively—tenderly brushing mine.
For a second, I allowed myself to sag into the kiss—into the tempting strength of his embrace—but the second the kiss deepened, I knew where this was headed. If I didn’t stop him now, his lips would end up back between my thighs, making promises that would force me to forget everything that had happened to him, everything I was afraid of, and everything I wanted right now.
“Damon,” I murmured and drew back. “Please.”
I thought about going slowly, but the way he wanted me, and the way I wanted to let him have me, was so tempting that if I didn’t take the reins now, I wasn’t sure he’d give me another chance.
Without another word, I stepped back and reached between us, pressing my palm to the straining front of his pants, my eyes widening at the feel of his thickness reaching the bounds of my fingers. But there was something else…something wasn’t right…
“Rob—” He broke off with a strangled cry as I tightened my grip on his cock and then lurched forward, barely managing to slam his hand against the wall to stop him from crashing into me.
I hardly registered how I’d almost taken him down, all my attention anchored to the distinctly unnatural feel of his length. I might not have fucked a man in fifteen years, but I didn’t forget the feel of my husband’s cock…or my knowledge of basic anatomy.
Damon ripped my hand away with an animalistic sound, shoving himself off the wall and backing away several paces. His chest heaved with labored breaths.
“Damon—”
“Give me a second,” he ordered and held up his hand, but it was only the pleading look in his eyes that stopped me.
Keeping my back to the wall, I steadied my own breathing as I watched him. He moved with the uncertain ferocity of an animal that had been in captivity for years and had suddenly been released into the wild.
Still, I couldn’t keep my gaze from drifting lower. The long, bulging outline of him mocked the perfect fit of his pants. But the ridges…I’d been wrong when I’d brushed off the sight before as a distortion of fabric and shadow. It wasn’t. I’d felt him.
“What’s wrong?”
His throat worked hard, his eyes uncivilized as they roamed over me. Jerking out of his hungry daze, he drove a hand through his hair. “I want you too bad, Robber,” he growled.
“So then why did you stop me?”
His lip twitched. “Because I’ve already ruined one pair of pants just from a taste of your touch.”
My lips parted, thinking back to the night he’d been injured. Shivers wove a web of goose bumps over my skin, my nipples pebbling even tighter.
“Fuck.” Air hissed through the tight seam of his lips, the effect he’d had on my body not going unnoticed by his.
Still, that didn’t explain what I’d felt…all those ridges…and they weren’t metal. I was well aware of the various kinds of hardware a man could have; my adopted brothers and the rest of their unit had all subjected themselves to the different kinds of g enital piercings, so I’d heard about the various options. But this wasn’t that. This was still all Damon…and yet not right.
Which made me think he’d been hurt—maimed.
I was under no delusions not only about the things my husband had done to build his criminal empire but also all the things he’d endured. The injuries. The torture. What if someone had…I pressed my hand to my throat like I could choke out the thought.
“Robyn,” he croaked, regret lancing his expression.
“What happened to you?”
I followed the fall of his hands to the waist of his pants, his fingers stilling on the metal clasp of his belt.
“It was torture without you, Robber,” he began, sliding the leather strap through the buckle. “I didn’t… I never had anyone before you. You were a part of me, and then you were gone.” He drew the belt through the loops and let it clatter to the floor. “And while I searched for you…I started to lose my mind. I didn’t want anyone else. I could never…want anyone else.”
A quake ruptured through him as he flicked open the button of his pants, the fabric instantly stretching, the teeth of his zipper straining to be unlocked.
“When I realized what it would take to become… who I am, I knew I needed to do something to prove my loyalty.”
“Loyalty?” My brows jammed together. “To whom?” Who would require maiming that part as a sign of loyalty?
“You.” The word tumbled from his perfect lips. “I needed to do something to prove my faithfulness to you.”
What?
Guilt prodded my tongue with bitterness. All the rumors I’d heard about his exploits, they’d been chiseled into the gravestone already marking the death of his fidelity and our marriage, a vow I’d assumed he’d broken when he left with Sandrine .
It was easy to stand here now and say I would’ve believed him. But if things hadn’t gone the way that they did, if he’d returned by some other means at some other time, would I truly have believed all those rumors were lies? Would I—would anyone—be able to truly believe he’d been faithful for fifteen years?
“Damon,” I breathed out, but my lungs felt incapable of replenishing themselves, the vacant cavities burning for only the answers he was about to give.
The silence trembled with only the croak of his zipper flaying apart, the fabric breathing wide in relief over the massive bulge of his flesh.
My mouth went dry as he hooked his thumbs under the waist of both his pants and boxer briefs and then shoved everything down. Time slowed, his bent body momentarily blocking everything from view. I should’ve braced myself then for what came next, but I had no idea what to expect, no idea what he’d done…how he’d harmed himself to prove…
The thought died with the sound strangled from my chest when he straightened.
My husband stood stark naked in front of me, and just like the rest of his impressive body that I recognized, though time and circumstance had left new marks, I also recognized the most impressive cock that I’d for a long time believed was a fuckup on God’s part to create a man who was both exquisitely handsome and unfathomably endowed.
It jutted outward from the nest of dark curls, hard and swollen, and so heavy it hung low under its own weight. The tip was a ruddy purple, dotted with a bead of moisture, and pulsing veins wrapped the shaft. But there was… more .
His cock was covered in…bumps. I didn’t know how else to describe what I saw. They weren’t metal or some other kind of piercing attached to his skin, but distinct circular bumps em bedded underneath, distending his flesh. They made him look…inhuman. And sinful. Like his cock had been ribbed for maximum pleasure and penetration.
“What…I don’t…” My brain had officially fried.
“Remember how Pat told you how he saved me from a Japanese prison?” Damon’s expression was taut, his jaw firing rounds of tension like a well-oiled machine gun.
My head bobbed.
“While I was there, enjoying a not-so-warm welcome by some of the Yakuza inmates, I got my first lesson in some of their non-traditional gang customs. Specifically, the practice of Yakuza beading,” he said, flexing and then releasing his fist by his side. “The incarcerated Yakuza would…implant a glass bead for every year they served in prison.”
Every year. Instantly, my eyes narrowed to try and count the number of bumps I could see lining his swollen flesh.
“I had…bigger things to worry about at the time, but once Pat and I got out, once I realized what it would take…how long it could take to find you…” He trailed off, bearing down on his breathing to steady himself. “I began having a silicone bead inserted every six months.” His jaw flexed hard. “Six months is how long it takes for the site to heal before you can…”
Every six months… my eyes blew wide and whipped up to his.
“One bead every six months for the last thirteen and a half years, Robber.”
My jaw dropped, my pulse tripping and spilling just as messily as my thoughts. Every once in a while, I walked in on a conversation between my brothers and their team reminiscing on not only the pain of getting their dicks pierced but the recovery afterward…I knew it was a self-inflicted, short-term torture for the promise of pleasure it would bring. Except Damon had never collected .
Damon hadn’t just abstained for me. He’d tortured himself every six months. Maimed himself every six months, altering his body to prove his faithfulness. And I…I’d hated him this whole time.
Suddenly, the distance between us felt as suffocating as all the time we’d spent apart. I pushed off the wall to go to him. His cock jerked, and with a rough curse, he fisted it in his grip like he held an animal on a leash.
“Robyn,” he warned, taking a step back.
“Let me see you,” I demanded, reaching for his wrist and crashing my gaze to his. “Let me see what you did for me.”
His hand trembled underneath mine. Then with a slow hiss of hot air, his fingers loosened and pulled away, making sure to turn and clutch mine in their grasp; a warning to look but not touch.
“This is proof, Robber…of everything I didn’t do for you.”
Emotion collided with lust, the thought thrilling me from beginning to end. It warmed me. Made me ache. Made me want. Made me ravenous.
Leaving my hand in his, I knelt slowly in front of him, keeping my gaze in the tangle of his until my head was level with his waist. Then there was nothing that could keep my attention from his savage swollen cock. It looked divine or maybe paranormal. Or would this be what a monster’s cock would look like? Whatever the breed, the adornments made it no longer appear human.
My eyes charted a slow path over him, marking every dip and rise in the design. The beads—pearls—lined his length from base to the edge of the blunt tip in three separate columns, each consisting of seven round orbs. Then, at the base, between each of those columns were two larger pearls, making the root of him much thicker.
My mouth salivated, my teeth restraining my tongue from breaking free to find out what those ridges would feel like in my mouth. I was probably going crazy. Who in their right mind would want to fit a cock this massive in their mouth, let alone one that had its girth accentuated by silicone speed bumps?
A bead of moisture leaked from the purpled tip, and without even thinking, I almost darted my tongue out to catch it when Damon’s warning lashed at me from above.
“Unless you want to wear my cum all over your face, Robber, I suggest you stand.” Silver eyes burrowed down to me, and Damon’s free hand palmed my neck, gently but firmly lifting me upright once more.
As I rose, my stomach bumped his tip, and his whole body recoiled at the shot of pleasure. “Fuck, Robber.” He closed his eyes, his throat pumping through the tension. He lowered his forehead to mine, breathing heavy for a second, and then pressed a hard kiss to my mouth.
Desire thrummed through me like a string about to snap.
“Please, Damon.”
Growling, he jerked back, his pupils blown wide with lust. “Get on the bed and spread your legs for me, wife.”
Wife .
It was one of the many reasons I practically tripped over myself to comply. Throwing the fur blanket onto the floor, I sat on the edge of the bed and then pushed myself back, leaving just enough room for him to fit between my splayed thighs.
“I could come just from looking at you.” He stalked toward me, bending once more to the aching center of me.
His warm breath coasted over my slickness just before the broad tips of his fingers pinched my clit, violent pleasure shooting through me.
“Damon!” I bucked, my core clenching and reeling.
“Definitely from tasting you.” His low sound of appreciation only deepened as he licked down to my entrance, lapping every drop of desire that leaked from my pussy.
“Damon, please,” I begged and grabbed for his head—his hair, trying to tug him up my body before his magical tongue tore me apart.
“I should make you ready for me. You barely fit me back then, and now…”
Stars shimmered in the periphery of my vision, my core pulsating at the simple thought of taking his silicone-studded cock inside me.
He sucked hard on my clit, and I screamed, the pleasure shoving me right to the brink of orgasm before he pulled back, panting.
“Fuck, Robber,” he snarled and moved over me. Not just above me. But on me.
Chest to chest. Stomach to stomach. My wet pussy to his massive…monster.
“I’m sorry.” He vibrated above me, and I felt his length stretch and twitch between my thighs.
I grabbed his face, sure that the wild lust I felt had flushed my eyes as red as the rest of me. “I’ve already forgiven you.”
I crushed my mouth to his, feeling his groan pour in against my tongue.
His hips angled back, enough for his hand to fit and guide his massive cock to my entrance. I didn’t have a chance to even register him pressing his tip at my opening before he pushed inside.
My mouth opened, but I had no words—no sound—for what was happening to me. All I could do was gasp uncontrollably at the stretching, foreign intrusion. The size of him…the texture of him…my mind turned to mush trying to process the overwhelming mix of sensations.
As he buried himself inside me, I remembered the fullness. The dizzying sensation of feeling like if he were any larger, he’d split me in two. It was more than enough to send my core into spasms, but now there was more of him.
The bumps of his pearls massaged my clenching muscles, his ribbed cock greedy for my pleasure.
I couldn’t make a sound, but god, could I savor those of his. The deep, guttural groan of a man who hadn’t fucked for fifteen years, all so he could save himself for this. For the feel of his wife’s pussy again.
It turned him savage to be inside me again. Savage and unstoppable as he set himself in my slickness. He drove deeper and deeper, forcing my muscles wide to accommodate him. He didn’t hesitate at my tightness or balk at my gasps; he felt how I wanted him. With every thrust, those delicious, torturous pearls coaxed more from me. More slickness. More sensation. More desire.
“God, you’re going to kill me.” He groaned and pushed himself up so he could drive into me at a deeper angle. “No, you have killed me. You’ve killed me, and I’ve returned to heaven.”
I felt his cock pulse and tremor inside me, his ridges shuttling over my G-spot until I swore my heart would never find a steady rhythm again.
“Come for me, Robber,” he ordered, his hands locking my hips prisoner to his thrust. “Come so I can fit the rest.”
The rest?
My eyes focused on him for the pinpoint of a second of clarity. I felt the size of him. The length that seemed to stretch to my stomach. The thickness that threatened to split me. The ridges of his pearls stroking my walls. But what I didn’t feel was that last set of beads that rimmed the base of his cock. The bigger ones.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he praised. “You’re getting so tight, Robber. So wet. That’s it. God, you wet my cock so good, I can almost slip the rest in.”
Tears leaked down my cheeks. I was so close to coming, my body wound so tight it was both bliss and pain.
“Please, Robber,” he begged, straining above me like a glistening god made of nothing but carved muscle, coordinated movements, and a monster cock. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”
I exploded with an unearthly scream, my body splintering in what felt like a million microscopic particles—all of them containing an individual ocean of how much I’d missed this man.
My back bowed just as his hips crashed into mine, his cock sinking the rest of the way inside my pussy. My eyes rolled back, that last thick rim wedged inside just as my muscles bore down, the eruption of bliss descending with a fury of convulsions. Damon bottomed out with a feral shout, those bigger pearls knotting his cock inside me as he came, almost as though they’d prevent him from pulling out.
The cords of his muscles threatened to snap as he held himself inside me, pulsing thick ropes of heat against my womb. Along my walls. Into my bones. And though he rocked into me, the pearls lodged at his base made it feel as though his cock didn’t move an inch.
Fifteen years I’d waited to be with my husband again, and as pleasure tore me limb from limb, I knew I would’ve waited forever.
“Damon,” I gasped as he slid from me, my arm lifting limply from my side in his direction.
“Don’t worry, Robber, I’m not done with you yet,” he said, his mouth quirking as he tipped over me and added huskily, “I’ve waited fifteen years to be inside you again. By the time I’m through with your pussy, you’ll be so filled with my cum it’ll be dripping from your mouth.”