“You can’t promise that. But you can promise me this: if you feel like you are shutting down, you talk to me; don’t push me away. You don’t get to use me as a punching bag ever again,” she says. A tear rolls down her face.
“You are right, but I will make a fucking effort to keep that promise. I love you, Noelle Montredor, with everything I have.”
I watch the tension seep from her shoulders. Her eyes search my face, like she was seeing all my fears and my flaws. I feel vulnerable, naked.
“You are an idiot,” she whispers.
“I deserve that.” My hands wipe her tears.
“You’re a jerk.”
I nod. “But never to you, my love.”
“You hurt me like that again, and I will have your cousin come for you.” She holds onto my hoodie.
“I won’t hurt you again, princess.”
“No more stupid rules.” She chuckles.
“I don’t think we followed any of the rules.”
She chuckles again. “Rules are meant to be broken.”
I hold her face, my thumb touching her cheeks. “I am serious. I am never hurting you again.”
She tiptoes and pulls me down by my hoodie strings. “Good because I love you too, Roman Voss.”
“Thank God.” I groan, smashing my lips against hers.
She pulls away and touches my face “Merry Christmas Roman Voss,”
“Merry Christmas my love.”
Every crack in me feels whole. No more rules, no policies. Just my woman and me.
Chapter eleven
RULE #2: Be on time or don’t come at all.
One and a half years later. Pigeon Point Tobago.
ROMAN
“Oh, fuck, princess. You really had me wait six months to sink in this pussy?” I thrust into her, gripping her hips tightly.
There is something euphoric about fucking your wife.
“This fucking pussy is mine,” I mutter. This time it’s true. She is mine.
Noelle moans. “Please, Roman. I want to cum.”
I reach around, my fingers finding her clit, strumming it just right. “Give it to me.”
In the background a voice carries through the room “Let’s welcome Mr. and Mrs. Voss.”
“Fuck, we are late,” I mutter. “Look at you, making my cock glisten.”
Noelle presses her face against the table, fisting some old folded linens.
