Splintered vows, p.9
Splintered Vows, page 9
“Why don’t you go to her, then? Wear out whatever the fuck this is,”—he gestures at my half-risen form over my desk, every muscle strung tight—“and get on with the life you’ve made for yourself.”
“Stop.” I clench my knee too hard and wince.
Dom sees it and is at my side, a glass of whiskey in his hand before I take my next breath. “Drink.”
“Fuck you.” I accept the liquor and down it in one sip, regardless of my words. “Do you want to fuck her?”
“Who?” Dom looks down at me, startled out of whatever daydream existed inside his mind in that moment.
“My wife.”
He squints at me. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
I debate playing with him for a moment, but I honestly don’t have the energy. “She mentioned it. A fantasy.” I clear my throat.
“With me?” He pushes away from the bookshelves and stalks toward me. “Whatever twisted shit you have going on in that bedroom, I want no part of it. I’m not cuckolding my boss, my best friend and a man I look up to. And she’s worth more than you handing her around, Rafe. Give her some fucking respect.”
My lips twitch. “She mentioned wanting to try a threesome.”
“Ah.”
“Indeed. One to revisit. Maybe I’ll go up and see if she’s held to my instructions.”
Dom grimaces. I mentioned our fight earlier and he gave me a similar look then as he’s giving me now. “She’ll wet the bed.”
“She knows I don’t mean it like that.”
“Does she?”
I finish my whiskey and stare at the wall, thinking of her curves, the way her skin dimpled beneath the pressure of my hand. “Of course.”
But as I leave my study, doubt from his words seeds and I take the stairs two at a time.
****
The hallway on the fourth floor is silent and dark as I walk slowly along it. Ignoring my father’s room directly opposite mine where the west wing starts, I push the bedroom door open with one hand, already planning what to do with my tempered little wife.
I don’t have to turn the light on to know where Willow is when I enter our room. Her small form, dressed in her white pantsuit from this morning makes a distinct contrast to my dark bedding. Her black hair fans around her head on one of the pillows … mine, when I check. The thought of her curling up to the scent of me has my cock standing at attention before I cross the room to sink beside her.
“Have I treated you unfairly, Willow? Perhaps I’m becoming the asshole I feared, mirroring my father.”
I trace the curve of her cheek, cupping my hand there to soak in her warmth. Even in the dim, reflected light, her face is softer, the lines sweeping curves that lead to her throat, and across her shoulders. I stroke her skin as she stirs, stretching and arching into my touch.
“Oh, no, you’re much worse,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to my skin before her eyes fly open, sleep and peace abandoning her in an instant. “I’m sorry…” Willow lurches at my waist so fast our heads almost collide. “Rafe—”
Fear glimmers in her eyes, aimed my way when she stares at me.
I swear not-so-softly, catching her cheeks and crushing her mouth beneath mine. “I am sorry, gynaíka. I frightened and abandoned you when you have had enough of both to last several lifetimes.” I gather her in my arms, resisting at first before her body softens, and she clings to me.
A tiny sob escapes her throat. “I thought I lost you, Rafe. And sometimes I swear I hate you, but,”—she looks up at me with those jewel-green eyes—“I don’t want to.”
I cup the back of her head, holding her in place. “I don’t want you to fear me like that either, little hellion. Maybe in the right way…” I unbuckle my belt, still holding her in place and snap the leather one-handed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers in a small voice, but her gaze isn’t locked on mine anymore. She watches my hand as I swing the belt in a gentle arc, letting the leather tip trail along the floor. “My arms hurt last night.”
I swallow hard at the memory of making her sleep bound at my side, lust spiking through me followed by a wave of heat. I grip her neck a little harder, squeezing until her attention is back on me.
“There may be more nights like last night,” I promise her. I’m unable to contain the need rushing through me that coats my words with the pure sin she incites. “And later I’ll spoil you, massage you, and give you as many orgasms as you can take.”
“That’s not l—” She bites her lips, her eyes widening before her gaze shies away.
“No, don’t look away from me, Willow. Tell me,” I coax, snapping the leather once more when she refuses to answer.
“No.” She sighs, lifting her chin defiantly. “You know, the last time someone used a whip on me, it was my uncle, and he did this…” She unbuttons her top and slips it free.
Dark hair splays around her as she shifts on the bed, but the hard, darkened lines not yet gone white that decorate her back in uneven stripes are still visible.
My breath hurts in my chest. “That was unforgivable. Without your consent. But what I do to you … that’s something we will both enjoy, isn’t it, little wife of mine?”
I catch her chin, drawing her luminous gaze back to mine, and hold her there until she answers. This time, she gives me a different sort of sigh, one that opens doors, my heart, and her legs.
“Yes, Sir.”
I growl low in my throat, slapping her pretty cunt though it’s still covered. “Strip. Prettily.” Folding the leather in my hands, I let the crack fill the room.
She doesn’t move at first, and I wonder which parts of our maelstrom of a relationship she thinks about. From our one-night stand in Cyprus to our sham of a wedding, to meeting my father and me forcing myself on her. But did I really? She seemed to enjoy the act, almost disappointed when it was over.
Willow rises on her knees, flicking open the top button on her cream pants, lowering the zip to display a hint of green lace that looks like it’s pale enough to match her eyes. Her hips sway to music only she can hear as she undresses for me, forgiving me everything in an instant.
“Go slow,” I murmured, leaning back as she arches, pushing her thighs up.
She turns on her knees, wiggling her rump at me as she slides the material down, displaying—I was right—a green lace thong. In the darkness, the gap between her thighs is shadowed, her knees trapped tight together by her pants.
I reach out, stroking my fingers against her heat, the flush of her body emanating before I touch her. She isn’t soaking just yet, but she will be.
Sliding sideways, she shimmies out of her pants, laying back to stare up at me, then with that same bright spark of defiance, she flips over, presenting me with her ass right at my hand height.
“I’m sorry, Rafe. Forgive me?”
Beautiful fucking flirt.
I blink, but she’s head-deep in this role-play, though I’m still not sure who’s on top, or supposed to be in this moment.
“Always, little wife. But I have darker needs than most men and it’s been a long … night.” I cut myself short of saying day lest she take it to heart that I mean her when I don’t, not really. My father’s lusty tendencies have nothing to do with her, and a lot to do with his own prejudices. He bought her for me, for fuck’s sake.
And what would I do in return?
I lean forward, enough to brush my mouth lightly over hers and draw back, licking my way along her spine, down the succulent curve of her ass. “Fuck, Willow. I’ll ask Chef to serve you up on the next banquet platter.”
“You mean Luca?” She frowns. My eyes narrow and she lurches forward at what she reads there. “I didn’t mean—”
I grip a handful of ass cheek in one hand, loving the way her pale flesh pillows around my fingers, knowing I’m about to leave marks on her body that will last a week for both of us knowing I claimed her again and again.
“Very. Naughty. Wife.” I rain a few slaps down on her bottom until her cheeks turn rosy, then reach for my belt, snapping it between both hands.
“I didn’t mean it! Rafe!” she shrieks. I can’t tell if she’s playacting or genuinely shocked I’d tan her pretty curves for my own pleasure.
“No,” I say firmly. I push down on her lower back and inch my fingers along her spine until I press her between her shoulder blades. “Tonight is for what I need from you. After, I will reward you for taking my wrath.”
She stills and submits in a graceful reverse arch that leaves my cock jumping in my pants. I palm myself, squeezing roughly. How I’ll make it through this before I get to bury myself inside her tight pussy I have no idea. But I must hold out for both of us.
“Count for me, Willow,” I murmur, and snap the leather over her ass.
“One,” she whimpers, managing not to scream. Her thighs press tight together and I edge them apart again with a tap of my knuckles.
“Good. Again.”
“Two. Th-three,” she stutters, and I hear the tears she tries to suppress in her pretty sounds.
Smiling, I tug her thong aside to expose her slick pussy. “Look at that. All glistening and wet and smelling so fucking good.”
I snap the leather down a few more times until she forgets to count and we start again. After that she screams for a while, her need and her fears mingling until she’s worn out, mumbling gently into the covers.
Finally, I tuck a pillow beneath her head, scooping sweat-drenched hair over her shoulders so I can see her face and line up behind her. My cock jumps in my hand as I slide my swollen head through her juices, savoring the scent of her arousal and push inside her welcoming pussy.
She moans, a different sort of need to the type I eked from her minutes before. This has the taint of satisfaction and though I want to pummel into her glowing ass, I slide along her body, grateful for her sweat that lets our bodies glide together as I fill her of undiluted lust.
Her body reacts to mine and though I know I’ve worn her out, she arches back to me, seeking my mouth. Our lips meet, melding together in a hot, slow kiss I feel in a tingle that shoots straight to my balls. Willing myself not to cum before she does, I grip her hips with both hands, breaking the kiss enough to let us both have air as I work her body in deep, hard thrusts.
“I want to punish you all night for the distraction you are, for the havoc you wreak on my life. But no part of me wants to take you back to that shithole. I want you here, in my house, in my bed. In my arms. Is that clear, Willow?”
She mumbles softly against my mouth, tangling her tongue with mine and crying out as I slide deeper, fucking her into the mattress with strong strokes.
“What was that?”
Willow cranes her slender neck to press her lips to my ear. “I don’t want to leave.”
Breath leaves me as I stare down at her then kiss her hard enough I know she’ll wear my bruises for a week. “I own you. You are mine, and I will fuck you, care for you, and love you for the rest of our goddam lives,” I growl, letting my need unspool rapidly. “Come for me, Willow. I can’t last in your hot little cunt.”
Her cry rips my soul, the bed shaking as I slam home, roaring her name loud enough to wake the city. I own you.
But the truth is that she owns me, too. All of me, in such a short time.
I collapse on top of her body, her pussy fluttering around me in the aftershocks of our devastating brand of passion. I’ve fucked before but it was nothing like this. Every time I spend myself inside her stunning body I give a part of my soul away. Worse, I don’t even care.
I sink over her, kissing languidly along her cheek then roll us so she sprawls across my chest. The whole room rocks in the wake of our lovemaking and I laugh, high on the pleasure of her.
Willow snuggles into my side, sighing. I need to clean us up but I don’t have the energy to stand. I stare up, watching the ceiling sway, and realize it isn’t me.
“The fuck?” I sit up abruptly, and she tumbles into my lap. “Willow—”
A phone lights up on my bedside table. I grab for it, checking the screen.
Sebastian: Thank you for making this transition so easy, my dear.
I stare at the message, uncomprehending as I turn the phone in my hand. Gold glints off a case that isn’t mine.
“Willow…?”
Sebastian: I’ll see you soon. My friend wants a taste of that ruined pussy.
I grabbed her hair, twisting it in my fist. “What the fuck is this!” I roar, shoving the phone in her face.
Willow stares at the screen, then at me with wide eyes and an expression that rips my stomach from under me.
Guilt.
“Rafe, I can—”
“What the fuck are you?” I rip her upward, snarling in her face. “What did you do?”
“I couldn’t help it. He’ll kill my brother!” she screams back at me.
“Your brother?” My mind is a slug, or a sieve, retaining nothing and processing less. “You have a brother?”
She nods frantically. “Yes. He’s—”
The door slams open rocking the bed, or maybe the house sways again.
Dom stalks into the room. “The Hennies are here. Move.” He doesn’t spare a glance for our nakedness as I throw him the phone.
He stares at the screen for a moment too long and swears.
“Get up.” I release Willow. “Dress.” I’ll deal with her dramas later. First, though… “How many?”
“Fourteen.”
“Fuck.” I’m half-dressed before the next explosion rocks me.
Not because of a blast but because it’s not the sort I expect.
Gunfire. Across the hall.
My father.
I cast a hate-filled gaze for the little traitor at my feet, curled in on herself, and feel nothing. Not a skerrick of the blooming adoration from a moment before, not the need that encompassed me since I first found her in Cyprus and craved her in my bed.
Nothing.
Chapter Fourteen
A Judas Kiss
Willow
Fuck my life. Everything was perfect. Rafe has been letting me in, tearing down my walls and I have been letting him. To the rest of the world we may not seem in sync and I understand why it would seem that way. But it isn’t true.
At least it wasn’t.
The sex is off the charts and he is helping me realize what I want and need to be happy. Even though he’s possessive and intense, I was happy. But Sebastian has stolen my happiness once again. How the hell am I ever going to explain this to Rafe?
Yes, I know I should have told him from the start but I didn’t know if I could trust him, whether he would care. It’s not like our first two meetings gave me any confidence in our relationship.
Shots ring out through the estate as I remain on the floor. The look of disgust and barely veiled hate that Rafe levels me with has my heart shattering. Not moments ago I was laying in his arms, sated and happy, replaying his words of love and devotion in my mind.
It seems so long ago, now that everything has gone to shit.
“Yuvaika, I told you to get dressed!” Rafe roars, pulling me harshly to my feet before shoving me in the direction of the walk-in closet.
I have gone from adored wife, to precious whore, to bitch in the span of minutes. Tears gather in my eyes but I will myself to force them away. If this is what my life will be now, I will deal with it. I never expected life when my uncle sold me off. I shouldn’t miss what I never had.
I grab a black hoodie and a pair of yoga pants, dressing quickly.
Rafe is nowhere to be seen when I emerge and the gunfire has become more sporadic. My heart beats quickly in my chest, worry for the husband I don’t understand but don’t want to lose pushing me out of the room.
“Mrs. Gallo,” a large man with gray eyes says as I exit.
“Where is Rafe?” I ask without hesitation.
“The Boss said I need to take you to a secondary location.”
I level a glare at the man that has him lifting his hands in the air. “I didn’t ask you what your orders were. Where is my husband?”
“In the west wing of the house with Dom,” he answers begrudgingly.
My feet are moving before I can even consider my own safety or the repercussions of my actions. Throughout my youth my father drilled into my head exactly what to do if an attack ever occurred on our home. I know that allowing the man behind me to take me away from this situation is the safest option. But I don’t give a fuck anymore. It’s not like anyone would give a shit if anything happened to me.
Stopping at the end of the hall, I take a deep breath before leaning around the corner, checking if there is anyone waiting to ambush us.
“Mrs. Gallo,” the man behind me tries again but I cut him off.
“Gun.”
“What?” he splutters.
“Give. Me. A. Gun.” I enunciate every word, my hand outstretched in his direction.
I roll my eyes. I don’t have time for this bullshit. Every second counts. But these people, these men don’t know me and don’t trust me, so I need to take a minute and convince him.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Tobias.”
“All right, Tobias. You have two choices,” I hold up my fingers as I speak. “One, you can let me traipse around this hellhole, unarmed, while we are clearly under attack. There’s a chance that I’ll be fine but if I’m not you get to explain that to Rafe.”
I wait for him to process this information, a frown pasted across his features. Tobias opens his mouth to say something but I continue speaking.
“Your second option is to hand me a weapon. That way I have a greater chance of defending myself and staying alive. You can even tell Rafe I stole it from you.”
He takes a moment to contemplate my words before reaching into his jacket and handing over a black Glock 9mm. Taking a moment I pop out the magazine and see that it’s full before flipping off the safety. Holding the weapon steady in front of me, I crouch down low and round the corner.
“Do you even know how to shoot?” Tobias whispers harshly.
