“The dragon,” I whisper. “I’ve seen it before.”
His eyes darken. He knows exactly what I mean.
“That night,” I say, voice shaking. “The Waldorf. The golden rooster mask. The man who called himself Mr. Cock… that was you.”
For a second he didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then he lets his forehead drop to mine, eyes closed like he is bracing for impact.
“Yes,” he says quietly. “It was me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice cracks. “All this time… you knew.”
“I didn’t know your name until the hospital,” he says, raw. “You ran, Red. You left me with nothing but a broken shoe and the taste of you on my tongue. I spent months trying to find you. When I finally did, you were bleeding out on my table and I had a daughter I never knew existed. I wasn’t going to risk scaring you off again.”
I swallow hard, tears stinging my eyes. “I thought you were just some rich asshole who wanted to buy a night with a girl.”
“I was,” he says simply. “Until you opened your mouth and called me on it. Until you refused the money and still let me have you. Until you walked away and took half my soul with you.”
He brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was afraid you’d run again. I was afraid you’d hate me for what I did to you that night… and for what I did after.”
I reach up and trace the dragon on his shoulder, feeling the raised ink under my fingertips.
“I don’t hate you,” I whisper. “I hated not knowing. I hatedthinking I’d never see you again.”
His eyes soften, and for once the cold mask is gone.
“You’re seeing me now,” he says. “All of me. No masks. No lies.”
I pull him down and kiss him—slow, deep, claiming.
“Then make love to me like you mean it, Beckett Myers. No more pretending.”
I want to touch it, but before I am able, he abruptly flips me over. Not harshly, because I am still recovering from injuries that have left me a little out of whack, but swiftly.
“Ass up,” he demands. “This will be easier on your ribs if you have them elevated.”
I look back at him. “No. I’m not doing this doggy style.” I frown at him as he lifts my hips in the air, definitely relieving the pressure on my ribs.
And without saying anything, he slowly slides into me, millimeter by millimeter, making me insane for him. Gently setting my knees back on the bed, he continues his excruciating journey.
“What were you saying, Mrs. Myers?” The asshole barely moves in me. “Something about doggy style? I’m not a dog and neither are you. I’m a loving husband, giving my wife pleasure.”
“You don’t love me, so just fuck me.”
“Oh no, that’s not true at all,” he says sarcastically. “I love everything about you, little wife.” He pulls out, and I actually whimper.
If I want to stick it to the man who is presently crouching behind me sliding his pierced cock over my swollen clit, I will have to be feistier and fight back harder. He is getting away with too much control.
“What part of this assignment do you not understand?” I breathe, goading him on.
“I’m sorry, what?” He slams himself into me but holds my hips so my body doesn't jostle, only my insides do, and boy do they.Fuck me.Yowch and yes… and I am a mess. “You were saying?” He thrusts into me again.
“Carry on,” I choke out, clutching the soft white pillowcase in my clawed fingers, and brave the demands of his very powerful, super-pierced dick.Yes… oh fucking God, yes, yes, yes…I think I might be drooling.
In. In. In. I throw my head back, his piercing scratches my G-spot, and I shiver. “I’m going to come,” I whisper, because yep, I am going to do it for the third time tonight.
“No,” he says softly. “Save it, the reward will be sweeter if you do.” Is he denying me for my own pleasure?
