by R. K. Lilley
He didn’t take it lightly. With sudden ferocity, he lunged into me again, rooting balls deep, jarring with blunt force against my cervix. He held himself there, his cock still jerking, still shooting out the last bit of cum.
His lips pressed to my ear. His voice was a deep, furious rumble. “Did you think this room belonged to you? This bed? These sheets? It’s all mine. But most importantly, you are.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
My apartment was humming with activity the next morning. I could feel it before I even opened my eyes. It took my sleep befuddled mind several minutes to work out why that was, but I had a very good excuse for that.
I hadn’t gotten much sleep. Hardly any, in fact. I’d drifted off several times, but each time I’d woken up with my husband inside of me, mindlessly fucking again. Like he couldn’t get enough.
But that had been his sole purpose. To get enough of me.
I knew this because at some point in the sin-filled night, he’d whispered it in my ear.
He’d been on my back again, finger soft on my clit, hard cock buried deep. “I’m going to have you as many times as it takes until I have my fill…” he groaned into my ear, “so I can leave you for good without another thought.”
It was an outright cruel thing to say, but somehow it hadn’t kept me from getting off harder than ever. I wished I knew what the hell was wrong with me. Why did my body operate so oppositely from my brain?
I assumed he’d accomplished his goal. I was raw with his efforts. On the other hand, perhaps not considering that that very thought made my loins pool with fresh need.
At the moment he was deeply asleep and plastered against my back. We were lying on our sides and I was using one of his impressive biceps as a pillow. His chin was nuzzled into the top of my head. It wasn’t all that comfortable, but it was hot. Hotter was his other arm thrown over my side, his big hand gripping one of my breasts like it was a handful of his favorite teddy bear.
He was an affectionate sleeper and an amorous, insatiable lover.
TMI.
Every encounter with my husband taught me things about him that I didn’t need to know. In fact, I needed not to know them. If I could, I’d erase them from my brain.
It would do me no good to become attached. He didn’t have it in him to return the sentiment. Not for me. He couldn’t have made that more clear.
I was contemplating how best to extricate myself from him when Asha took the dilemma out of my hands.
She opened my door and poked her head in, only knocking twice loudly on the door when she was already inside the room. It was her usual routine, but I’d hoped that would change after Calder’s harsh words to her the day before.
I just glared at her.
Calder’s reaction was much, much worse. He came out of a dead sleep and went straight into a rage.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he roared at her.
She retreated. He was up, had pulled his pants on, and was out of the room, following her in an angry whirlwind.
I’m not sure what he did or said to her after that. I dragged myself into the shower. I’d never needed one more. I still felt his touch everywhere. All over every inch of me. I wondered if it would scrub off.
I ran my hands over my body with a strange feeling of disconnect. My husband was right. My body didn’t belong to me anymore. It was his. He’d staked his claim.
Even my own touch only reminded me now of his touch.
As if that wasn’t enough, he’d marked me. Little love bites on my breasts, hickeys on my neck.
On the insides of my thighs were small, fresh bruises shaped like his thumbs.
And inside my chest, were small, fresh bruises from his careless ways.
I’d just dried off and had flung my towel over a hook on the wall when Calder walked in. He’d gotten up in such a rush that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt and hadn’t bothered to button up his jeans.
I froze mid-motion.
He froze too when he saw me, his eyes raking me up and down.
After the night we’d shared, how could he possibly want more?
But that was the funny thing I was learning about sex. The more you had, the more you wanted. The more you craved.
“I left some marks,” he noted. “Sorry,” he added, his mouth quirking up at one corner.
Sorry. Yeah, right. “Inside and out,” I agreed.
The smug look disappeared. His eyes flew to my face. “Sore?” he asked.
I shrugged.
He pointed his chin at the nearest counter. “Have a seat. Lemme see.”
I stiffened. “No, that’s okay.”
He shot me a flat stare. “It wasn’t a question.”
A jolt shot through me. Desire, sharp and powerful. With a sigh I propped my completely nude self on the vanity. He pushed my thighs apart, kneeling low between them. He studied me.
Even years of modeling hadn’t properly prepared me for this level of immodesty. And nothing could have prepared me for the intimacy of his gaze.
There were mirrors on nearly every wall of my bathroom. I glanced over at the nearest one. My face was flushed. From embarrassment, but not just that. The sight of his big naked shoulders kneeling down in front of my naked body did all sorts of things to me. So much skin. Without conscious thought my hand reached out to touch his messy hair. Without any direction from my brain, it gripped a firm handhold of the silky black waves.
He glanced up, grinning. “Was that a request?” There was a laugh in his voice.
I blushed harder, shaking my head so hard my long hair fell forward to cover half my face.
He went back to studying me, and his smile disappeared. He bit his bottom lip.
Unconsciously my hand gripped his hair harder. He looked up through his thick, too pretty lashes. It was a handsome hot look, and it worked me up in all kinds of counterproductive ways. “Hey now,” he said softly. “Enough of that. I can only take so much.”
“Sorry,” the word came out in a pant.
He went back to his task, bringing his hands up to part me oh so softly with his fingers. His breath came out in a ragged exhale that turned into a curse. “You’re very tender,” he told me. He sent me another smoldering look. “But you’re also very wet. You’re sending me mixed signals, Noura. What am I to do with you?”
His face moved closer to my sex until I could feel his every breath. “I think even my fingers are too rough for you this morning,” he murmured into my flesh.
“Probably,” I breathed back.
“Luckily I have just the trick.” He nuzzled gently into me, prodding me lightly with his tongue.
He pulled back. “How does that feel? Too much?”
I answered by gripping his hair with both hands and pushing his face back into me. He didn’t ask again. He ate me out tenderly, leisurely. His hands stayed busy elsewhere, one plucking and kneading at my breasts, the other finding its way to my mouth. His thumb rubbed back and forth across my lips, teasing.
I watched us in the mirror, the sight of what he was doing to me bringing me close to the edge every bit as much as the sensations themselves.
His fingers prodded at my mouth, and I opened for him. I sucked his fingers in and out as his lips sucked at my slit.
The act was so tender and leisurely that my orgasm caught me completely by surprise. It hit me in a gentle unfurling. My head fell back. My toes curled. I managed not to cry out his name, but it was a close thing.
After he rose up from between my legs, wiping his mouth. I was still trying to catch my breath.
He moved away.
I closed my eyes. They snapped open again when I heard something soft plop onto the marble floor. I glanced down. He’d set a pillow at his feet. Our eyes clashed. He grinned. I blushed. He pulled out his cock, fisting it.
“You want me to . . .” I began.
“If you don’t mind too terribly much.” The way he said it was excruciatingly polite and utterly irresist
ible. Especially with his dick in his hand.
“You didn’t seem to like it the last time,” I pointed out. “I assumed I was a hopeless cause.”
It was his turn to flush, his gaze flitting away like he couldn’t face mine all of a sudden. “The truth is, I—” he began, then paused as though choosing his next words carefully. “I didn’t mean what I said after. I was just being a shit.” He paused again. “I think about it all the time . . . your mouth on me.”
Well, well, well. The words and the way he said them were something akin to an apology. Without a doubt they were conciliatory, and they hadn’t been easy for him, I could tell, but he’d still managed to get them out. It was something. Some sort of a turning point for us, though I couldn’t have said what all it really meant just yet.
I hopped off the counter and lowered myself to the pillow he’d laid out for me. His eyes ran over my body, and he kept stroking himself.
I gazed up at him, licking my lips. I wanted him to move closer, but I loved the sight of him touching himself too much, so I waited.
“I’ll try not to make a mess this time,” I said, trying at playful.
His voice was a groan. “Don’t bother. I want to leave a mess on you.”
I don’t know why that turned me on so. I felt heat rush through me, flushing my skin and pooling in my loins. He moved closer and I grabbed him with both hands.
He made a rough, delicious noise when my mouth surrounded his tip. His gripped his hands in my hair and eased his thick length into my mouth.
“Touch yourself,” he instructed, “Rub your clit.”
I kept one hand on him, jerking off his base as I sucked his tip and fingered myself.
I got us both off at the same time. There was something so heady about that, having the power to pleasure both of us at once while all he could do was moan and pull my hair. I felt it when his body tensed to come, everything going stiff, his balls drawing up tight. The very air changed in that moment. It was utterly intoxicating, and it brought on my own release.
I couldn’t help it, I cried out as I came, and my mouth released him with a wet little pop.
One of his hands stayed in my hair, the other reaching down to cover my hand on him. He jerked his cum out into the air. It hit my lips, my chin, my collarbone, and lower. He spent extra time spurting onto my tits.
“I meant to swallow it, I really did,” I said when I caught my breath.
He laughed, a breathless, surprised rumble out of his throat, and pushed himself back between my lips. I licked his tip and was surprised when I felt his cock jerk another little stream of cum into my throat. It just kept going.
“There’s always next time,” he said, voice low and hoarse.
Next time, indeed.
He pulled out and away, tucking himself back into his pants. Why not? He was good to go, I’d licked him clean, meanwhile I was a complete mess. From the way his eyes lingered on me, I could tell he loved the sight.
“Rub it into you tits,” he groaned. I looked down at myself, rubbing his sticky cum into my flesh, massaging the firm, perky globes of my breasts. I kneaded at myself, getting it everywhere.
He moaned, rubbing at his crotch like we might just go another round.
I twisted my nipples between my fingers. I wanted him to suck on them, cum and all. I was disappointed when he told me, “Enough,” in a hoarse, heavy voice.
He helped me up, then gave me his back, going to wash his hands.
That was when I noticed his tattoo. I’d never seen his naked back in the light before. I moved toward him, studying it. It was a small rose rendered in lovely intricate detail on his shoulder blade. I wanted to trace it with my fingers. “What does it mean?” I asked him.
His head turned until I was looking at his profile. His mouth twisted. “It means that you can never really know another person. Not their mind and not their heart. It means that you should never trust a gold digger.”
Such a bitter explanation for such a beautiful piece of art, I mused. That was when I spotted the letters worked into the flowing lines. Spelled out in small, subtle precision was the name FATIMA.
I knew that name. I felt myself go cold.
I stepped back from him instinctively.
He turned to study me, but I was already heading back into the shower. I should’ve learned by now not to bother getting clean until I was sure he was done with me.
He didn’t follow. Good. I told myself I wanted it that way. Certainly I needed a few private moments to compose myself.
When I emerged from my room, I saw that my hair and makeup people were waiting. Probably had been for a while.
Oh yeah, that’s right. I had an important charity brunch to host with my mother-in-law at eleven.
I said good morning to everyone.
My husband was still present and watching me. I tried to pretend he wasn’t.
He and Asha seemed to have worked out their beef, as they were talking with relative civility.
I sat down for my beautifying.
“What’s on her schedule for the day?” he was asking Asha.
“First there’s brunch with your mother. She needs to leave in one hour for that.”
He nodded like he was somehow involved. Why hadn’t he left yet? “And after that?” he asked her.
“She’s meeting with her financial team—your father’s sitting in—to discuss some potential investments and business ventures. She had a very promising offer to team up with a prominent brand to start her own clothing and shoe line. And there’s a fragrance campaign on the table. Your father wants her to strike while her brand has so much free publicity. He says that every time you two are seen together, it’s money in the bank.”
I watched his lips as they twisted bitterly. “Isn’t that the truth?” he mused. “When will that meeting end?”
“At five.”
“And…?”
“And then she’s going to your parents’ home for a family dinner. That’s her last engagement of the day. Ideally she’ll be in bed by nine. She has a very early morning tomorrow.” She sent me one of her looks. “Think you can manage not to oversleep for the third day in a row, or is that asking too much?” she said it in a snotty tone, but nothing too over the top, at least for her.
I wanted to stick my tongue out at her like a child. Instead I gave her nothing. I’d learned that was the best way to win with her.
“Watch yourself,” my husband said to her, voice low and mean. “You’re on your last warning with my wife. I won’t tell you again.”
Her pinched face pinched harder, but she only nodded. “Excuse me. I’ll be back when they’re,” she waved at my hair and makeup girls, “done with you.”
When she left the room most of the tension went with her. Jovie popped out of her room like she’d been waiting for the moment. She was humming a tune I thought I recognized. Something from the Wicked soundtrack.
Yep, she’d been waiting.
She beamed at me. “Did he make her disappear again?”
I nodded and laughed.
My husband caught my eye. Something happened to him when he saw me laugh. Something volatile and contradictory. He looked bitter and charmed all at once.
It was fascinating to watch.
I only stopped looking when I had to close my eyes for eyeliner. “What about you?” I asked him, just for the hell of it. “What are your plans for today?”
I could hear the grin in his voice. “What are you offering?”
I blushed. I couldn’t think of a single comeback for him.
“So are you like sticking around for a while?” Jovie asked him after an extremely awkward silence.
He didn’t have a single comeback for her.
I finally opened my eyes when my liner was done. I studied him.
He had the look of a man who badly wanted to leave but just couldn’t quite tear himself away.
Apparently he hadn’t gotten his fill of me just yet.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
I was still fed almost everything to do with Calder through the filter of Asha, and it was all on a need to know basis. Which was why I was annoyed but not surprised when I learned only a half hour before the dinner with my in-laws that my husband and I wouldn’t be driving there together. I assumed that meant he’d meet me there.
I’d spent more time around his parents than I had around him. They’d always been quite pleasant, and they warmed to me more with every meeting.
In fact, a dinner with them where he wasn’t present would be considerably less nerve-wracking than the alternative.
Or so I thought before that night. I arrived on time. He did not.
My in-laws greeted me cordially at the door, led me to an impressive dining room, and we waited.
And waited. One hour passed, then another.
We ate without him and made polite conversation.
His parents, Pasco and Diana, didn’t even bring up his absence for quite some time.
We had a surprising amount to talk about, considering I’d had a meeting with my father-in-law mere hours before. You’d think he’d be sick of it, but he was very forthcoming with business advice for me, which I valued.
He was surprisingly kind. He was a bulldog of a negotiator. In the business world they called him The Punisher, but with me he’d shown nothing but patience and generosity.
He was a man who clearly knew what he was doing when it came to finances. I saw all access to him as an opportunity. An informal apprenticeship. I wanted to learn as much as I could from him. I couldn’t model forever, and I intended to keep building my wealth long after my looks were gone.
I wanted to be so rich that nothing could ever touch me.
Diana and I had just as much to talk about. Our schedules intersected constantly over the next two months as we would attend several family charity functions together.
“I apologize for this, Noura,” Pasco told me solemnly after three hours had passed. “My son and I have not been able to see eye to eye for quite some time, and I’d just like you to know that his boorish behavior tonight is a reflection of his contempt for me, and not you.”
