Chapter 19
Alina
This is my nightmare.
I know I’ve had a comfortable and highly privileged life. I’m very aware of how spoiled I’ve been. That’s part of why I haven’t kicked and screamed about marrying Seamus.
It’s always been the deal. My father provides me anything I need and in exchange I marry the man of his choosing.
But this is too much.
“You’ve gone too far.” I storm into the extra bedroom. Seamus has been turning it into his own private study for the past week. So far it’s mostly just a desk, a bookshelf with a bunch of whiskey bottles on it, and a TV on the floor in the corner.
He pivots to look at me, leaning back in his chair. “What’s wrong, my darling wife?”
I throw a pile of clothes at him. Shirts, shorts, pants, a bunch of socks and underwear. It scatters across his floor. “Do you know where I got all that?”
“Goodwill?”
“The bathroom.” I step forward, jaw set. “Behind the door.”
“Oh, right. Makes sense. That’s where I put my dirty stuff.”
“On the floor?! In the bathroom!?”
“Would you prefer if it were on the floor in the kitchen?”
I throw up my hands. “I’d prefer it if you used the hamper like a normal human being.”
I can tell he’s trying not to smile, which only makes me even angrier. This isn’t funny at all.
Ever since he moved in, my world has been flipped on its head.
First, there was the construction. I put up with it since that was the agreement.
He installed motion sensors, cameras, high-end locks, and this whole central processing system to keep it all synced up and running.
It took me an entire afternoon to learn the stupid app.
Getting into my own apartment is like breaking into Fort Knox or something. I know that’s the point, but still.
Then there’s him. Always sitting around half naked.
No shirt, no pants. Wandering from bathroom to kitchen still wet from a shower in just a towel.
It’s maddening. It’s like he’s doing it just to piss me off.
And the worst part is, I can’t even complain.
If I do, he’ll know that I’m distracted by his body, and he’ll just start acting even more obnoxious.
I pretend like it doesn’t bother me while actually it drives me absolutely insane.
Finally, there’s the mess.
My apartment is my temple. It’s a reflection of my inner life. I keep everything neat and orderly, just how I like it. He makes jokes, but my organization system keeps me sane and grounded.
All that’s gone with him around.
Dishes in the sink. Clothes on the floor. When packages arrive, he leaves the boxes near the front door and doesn’t bother breaking them down.
It drives me insane.
I’m at the point where I’m keeping Sistine open an hour longer and taking more private appointments just to avoid coming home to this wreck.
“I can tell you’re upset,” he says, which is him pretending like he cares. But he’s grinning huge now and not even trying to hold it back anymore.
“I know I’m being a pain in the ass,” I say, grinding my jaw and glaring death at him. “But you have to meet me halfway. I’m not asking you to be perfect. Lord knows you never will be.”
“I’m already pretty good,” he says, stretching casually. “Who needs perfect?”
“I need better. Please, Seamus. Clean up. That’s all I’m asking.”
“This is fun. What a classic couple argument.”
I rub my face and groan. “Seamus. It’s not a game.”
“Come on. We’re fighting about basic cleanliness tasks. That’s like New Relationship 101. Isn’t it exciting?”
“No, it’s really not.”
He holds up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, I see that this is important to you, and I will meet you halfway.”
“Thank you.” I unclench my jaw. “I appreciate that.”
He slowly stands and pulls off his shirt. I stare, not sure what’s happening. He tosses it down into the pile on the floor and unbuckles his belt.
I back away, eyebrows raising slowly.
“What?” he asks, a smirk getting outrageous as he kicks his pants away.
I’m blinking rapidly. “Why are you taking off your clothes?”
“Oh, this?” He strips off his underwear next until he’s only in socks. “I clean naked.”
I turn my back, cheeks burning. “Seamus.”
“What’s cleaner than naked? It’s pure and free.”
“Put your clothes back on.”
“They’re all going into the laundry, darling.” He walks past me, arms full of his clothes. Totally freaking nude.
I nearly choke as I stare at his firm ass and muscular thighs. I have to walk very quickly down to the kitchen before I can start breathing properly again.
He’s doing this on purpose.
The absolute animal has zero shame.
I should be mad. I really, really should.
But he’s so absurdly sexy.
Seamus comes downstairs a minute later with the vacuum. He’s humming to himself, cock free and dangling in the wind as he flips it on and starts cleaning the floors. I watch him, fanning myself, mouth watering with each graceful movement.
He’s cleaning. And he’s naked.
My two favorite things in the world.
This is fucked up. I’m aware of that on some deep, fundamental level. I shouldn’t be this turned on right now. I doubt he got the vacuum out thinking it would make me wet.
But that’s happening.
And I’m freaking disturbed.
I still can’t tear my eyes away. The graceful movements of his lean, beautiful body. His thick cock moving as he glides the vacuum, sucking all that dirt from the floor. Look at the bastard. Making everything perfect. Cleaning just for me.
I let out a whimper.
What the fuck is wrong with me right now?!
He looks over his shoulder. His shit-eating grin fades as I slowly walk toward him. My heart’s hammering. I don’t know what he can see in my face, but I don’t care.
There’s only one thing on my mind.
He stares as I drop to my knees in front of him, grab his firm ass with both palms, and guide his dick into my mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, obviously very surprised. “This isn’t the reaction I was expecting.”
I feel him getting hard between my lips. “Keep the vacuum on.”
“The fuck?” He blinks at me, dick stiffening as I hollow my cheeks and suck harder. “Seriously? Right now?”
I mumble shut up and keep cleaning, you sexy asshole but I doubt he understands me as I suck him wildly.
It’s messy, the total opposite of what he’s been doing.
Spit drips down onto the floor as I go at him, feeling wildly aroused and out of my mind.
He moans, but he keeps the vacuum going and even goes so far as to move it a little back and forth like he’s getting at a tough spot.
God help me, I reach down between my legs, spread my knees, and find my clit with my fingers.
I’m sick. I’m a sick, bizarre woman. And I don’t care.
I suck his cock and rub myself in quick little circles.
I’m moaning with his dick in my mouth, getting spitty and sloppy, pausing only to lick my pussy-tasting fingers before going at it again.
He’s staring with pure bliss in his eyes, and a part of me is happy his stupid plan is backfiring, but mostly I’m leaning into this freakish cleaning kink I just discovered.
“Keep going, you dirty fucking girl,” he commands, and I moan at that word.
I’m such a filthy slut for him. It makes me feel strangely bizarre and beautiful, the way he looks at me, the way I can make this deeply masculine bastard groan like he’s about to fall apart.
“Fuck, baby, look at you down on your knees. You couldn’t help yourself. ”
I gasp, pleasure growing as I keep touching myself faster and faster, sucking him harder, letting his cock go deeper, until he finally lets out a strangled gasp and pushes my head down.
I feel him come on my tongue and it throws me over the edge.
I shatter on my fingers, orgasming as I struggle to suck and swallow him at the same time, and I finally have to pull back, gasping for air as black spots flicker at the edges of my vision.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, finally turning off the vacuum. I lick him up, cleaning him with my tongue, making sure I get everything. When I’m done with him, I lick my fingers off too. He stares at me, pure adoration in his eyes.
I get up to my feet. “We’re never talking about that ever again.”
“Talking about what?”
“Exactly.” I turn on my heel, embarrassment starting to hit me.
“But I have to know.” He follows as I hurry upstairs to change out of my ruined panties. “Was it the nudity or the vacuum?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“That was weird!”
“It was definitely unusual,” he agrees and grabs my wrist before I can hide in the bathroom. “But I liked it.”
“You did?”
He kisses me softly but with a real hunger. “Absolutely. Now tell me which it was.”
“A little bit of both,” I admit.
“You’re a beautiful freak.” I try to pull away, but he holds me tight. “I’ll do the laundry naked later.”
God help me, a little thrill flickers in my belly. “Seriously, don’t joke.”
“I’m not joking at all. I’ll straighten naked too.”
I let out a groan. “I hate this.”
“I love it.”
“Can I please shut the bathroom door and hide with my shame for a while?”
“Only if you stop calling it shame.” He kisses me again, soft and tender. “I like bringing out that side of you.”
“I like it too,” I admit, even if I’m still a little weirded out by my own feelings.
“Good.” He brushes a thumb down my cheek and over my lips. “Good girl.”
I shut the bathroom door in his face.
And grin to myself in the mirror.
I have a feeling the house is going to be a lot cleaner from now on.