Yours Suddenly

Chapter 5

Alexandra

My husband is not in bed when I wake.

That's weird.

I scan the wide bedroom, expecting him on the armchair next to the bed where he likes to watch me either fall asleep, touch myself, or listen to me speak about my day, all with the attentiveness of a cat watching its prey.

He's not in the room, either. Outside, I can hear morning birds chirping.

It all comes back to me then.

Last night I waited for him to come to bed. I put on racy lingerie and because I was tired from the activities of the day — decorating new property developments with Adrianne and Mama — I must have dozed off.

Instantly, worry grips me. I know the kind of world my husband works in. We’ve never really talked about it but I know it’s dangerous.

It's been two months of marriage. Two blissful moons from the night I said yes, from our first kiss under the stars, becoming husband and wife at City Hall followed by a lavish, otherworldly wedding, and being embraced by a new, loving family. Two months since a magical honeymoon. Two months that have involved my husband making sure my every need is met. Two months of him frowning whenever I sneeze or sigh.

Of our obsession with each other.

One thing that still surprises me is my lack of worry that things happened too fast. I literally got married to somebody I’d met less than twenty-four hours before.

But I knew that night.

I knew he was going to be the man I was going to spend forever with.

But sometimes I worry: will I actually spend the rest of my life with him, with how much men like him risk their lives?

Often, I’ve imagined myself as a widow, wearing black all the time, mourning the loss of my lover. Right now it comes up in my mind and a shiver goes through me. I banish it.

We'll always be together. We'll have a long life together.

Right now, I miss him. I miss his touch. So I get up from our bed and pull back the curtains. I look at myself in the ornate mirror next to the windows. Pretty girl in floral lingerie with hickies from two days ago that haven't faded. All over her neck and her breasts.

I brush my fingers through my dark hair, combing it, and don't bother freshening up since he loves to smell my “sleep skin” in the morning. He's probably in his study, already working. I don't usually interrupt him, but, hey, I miss him . And I'm sure he misses me since we didn't fuck last night.

I get out of our bedroom and stroll through the wide landing hallway. Growing up, my family and I lived in a tiny bungalow, the smell of pines and firs and maples always in the small town air.

Now I'm living in a house where you can run from one end of a hallway to the other in twenty seconds. I'm basically a queen of a castle.

I knock on his office door. His voice floats from the other end, deep and rumbly but with a hint of unmistakable stress. I frown as I step in.

He's seated at his mahogany desk, writing something down, a large picture of his lookalike father on the wall behind him above the windows. He looks up at me, and I see his expression soften. Whenever I’m naked or wearing lingerie, that softened expression usually melts into something languid and hungry. But it remains.

“Come here,” he says.

I walk to him, heat rushing through me always at the sound of his voice. I circle around his desk, and he embraces me, leaning his head against my breasts, breathing me in.

“Morning,” I whisper.

“Morning.”

He doesn't look okay.

“You look like you didn’t sleep well,” I say. “You're supposed to get sleep, Roman. You can't have these all-nighters. It's not good for you.”

“I know, baby,” he says, his voice rumbling against my breast. “Did you sleep well?” He pulls away from me, looking up at me, studying every feature of my face like he usually does.

“I did. Something that must be foreign to you by now.”

“I just missed a night.”

“It's the third time this week,” I correct him. “What's wrong?”

“Just busy,” he says. I feel his big hands clawing up the back of my thighs, making me breathe heavily. His hands are so warm, so rough. I bite down on my lip as he cups my ass.

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. His eyes travel my body. “Sexy underwear.”

“Let me offer you a little de-stress,” I say. “After all this work you've been doing, you deserve it.”

He angles his extremely handsome face up at me and then peels a bra strap off my shoulder, exposing one breast. I moan, throwing my head back as he sucks it into his hot mouth.

He gives a sound of approval as he sucks and nibbles, peeling off the other strap. I sit on him and he leans us back in his chair and attacks the other breast, pulling with his teeth. Right beneath my core and through my panties, I feel his cock. My mouth waters, needing to taste him, but with the way he’s hungrily sucking on my breasts, I know he wants to be inside me desperately and there'll be no time for me to suck him off.

He makes sure I'm thoroughly wet, his hand creeping down there, slipping my panties to the side. His mouth moves from my breast to my neck and to my lips.

“So wet,” he says, as he nibbles at my lower lip.

“I’ve been wet since last night,” I whisper.

“More for me to lick,” he says, with a smirk, and then plunges two thick fingers inside me hard.

I cry out, and he kisses me hard, muffling my screams. He fucks me with his fingers, wet sounds filling the room as I gasp and moan against his mouth. When I shudder and shudder, whimpering his name, he gives a growl of assent and places me on his desk, over his papers and pens, spreading my legs wide. His fingers continue to dig inside me, making come-hither motions, making my back arch. I forget to place a hand over my own mouth so he does it for me to keep me quiet. He slips my panties more to the side and then buries his face between my legs, muttering under his breath, feral and low.

“So fucking wet, so beautiful.”

Five hot licks are enough to make another orgasm rip through me. My vision goes blurry but his tongue doesn't stop attacking my clit with circular motions. Another orgasm decides to go on a tour of my body and I'm a whimpering mess at this point.

“Just like that for me,” he says. “Fuck, I love it when you cum, baby.”

He's dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants and it's only the latter he gets rid of, exposing some of the tats on his thighs as his cock swings free. It's so fucking big, the size of my forearm. I didn't think it would fit the first time but his touch and his kisses made me smooth and melt like butter so much that he slipped in relatively easily, even though I was a virgin. I will never forget the first time I came around that big cock.

He positions it at my entrance and then pushes it into me. My back arches more and more as he fucks me hard and firm, bringing his face down to plant a kiss on my forehead, on my cheek, on my lips, on my neck.

“So fucking tight around me, fuck!” he breathes. “You're unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” I gasp out as he increases his pace, fucking us both to an explosive orgasm.

We're both breathing heavily and he descends on me once again to plant a kiss on my lips.

“Amazing,” he says. “You're fucking amazing.”

I look into his eyes and see something.

Something wrong .

He straightens up and because the window is behind him, daylight spilling in through it, I can't really see his face. It's cloaked in shadows.

I sit up and again he kisses me, threatening to arouse me again. Then his phone starts to ring. A muscle twitches in his jaw.

“I gotta take this baby.”

He walks out of the room and leaves me there with his cum oozing out of me, aching deliciously…

***

I knew I wasn't imagining things because from that day on, things started to change slowly, like a storm building up. He's starting to become more and more distant and he won't tell me anything .

When we have family dinner down in the dining hall at the big table, he’s deep in thought, looking up at the giant chandelier. Occasionally, he cuts his gaze to me and a softness comes over his face like it always does.

“You've barely touched your food,” Adrianne says to him.

“Right?” I say to her. She’s my new best friend now.

“It's always work, work, work with these men and that’s why I’ll forever be single,” Adrianne continues. “If you like work so much, maybe that should be your wife.”

A slightly amused smile comes on Roman’s face.

“And before you say work is what gives us this life,” Adrianne continues, “no you do not need to be working as much, you're a billionaire.”

“Thanks, I needed the reminder,” Roman says.

“Look,” I say, pointing at his cousin Ryan’s son, who is standing on his chair, singing the same song he sang at our wedding. “Listen to Nathan's voice. He’s a future star, for sure.”

Mama is watching the performance with tears in her eyes and she occasionally dabs at them with the Burberry scarf around her neck. The image reminds me of my own mother crying when I graduated high school only four years ago. A depression threatens to grip me. How I miss her and Dad so much. How I miss Evie so badly. The chandelier my husband keeps staring at? Evie would have lost her mind. And my dad would have taken a liking to Tristan, who is as stoic and business-minded as he was, even more stoic than Roman is.

“Coming to bed?” I ask Roman when the staff comes to clear up the tables.

“Have to make a quick call,” he says. “There's a development just outside of town that I'm interested in acquiring.”

“Okay,” I say. Then, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” And then he turns away to get on the phone.