C12, PT. 6

She stepped back, right onto Roth’s dick.

“Are the windows tinted?” she demanded as he crowded her.

 “Does it matter?”

“Yes! We’re not at your penthouse, on the ninety-fifth floor. People will see—”

“Who you belong to,” he said as he slid in to the hilt and splayed his hand on the glass beside hers. “I wish I could have gotten this office when Maximus was still alive. I’d fuck you right here every day, hoping he’d see you scream, loving what I do to you. We’ll have to settle for Ariana, his partners, or your childhood friends to bear witness.”

She reared back. “No!”

“Yes.” He bit her shoulder as he ground himself against her. “You’re going to show them who owns you, who makes you so out of your head with lust, you’ll let me take you anytime, anywhere. You’ll let me do whatever I want to you, won’t you, princess?”

“I don’t—”

He bit her shoulder hard enough to make her shriek and claw the glass.

“The answer’s yes. If I tell you to suck me, you say yes. If I tell you I want you in the car, on the jet, on my desk, you say yes.”

“Yes, yes!”

“That’s what I want to hear, princess,” he clipped. “Now, fucking brace.”

She did as she was told and was glad she did as his control shredded. There was that sharp nip of uncertainty as he plastered her against the glass and let his beast loose. His grip bordered on pain, just like his love bites on her neck and shoulder. The discomfort melded with primitive rapture. The fragmented garble that poured from him was music to her ears. She fought a little, knowing it would spur him on. She wasn’t disappointed. He went absolutely gonzo, demanding submission by fucking her so hard she thought she was going to pass out.

When she finally came, she was pinned, cheek and tits numb from being pressed against the freezing, unforgiving glass, while everything else throbbed and burned. Roth slammed his hand against the wall with such force that even in the midst of her orgasm, there was a distant worry that he might have done damage to it or himself.

“Jamie?”

“You make me crazy,” he panted into her tangled hair as he spilled. “I don’t know whether I love or hate this.”

He slumped against her. She braced both hands against the glass to keep them upright. He groaned, sinking himself as deep as possible, before he kissed her shoulder and neck.

“Okay?” he said hoarsely.

She nodded, unable to string words together at the moment. His hand stroked her from chest to belly before he turned her around and picked her up. She slumped against him as he carried her. She felt weightless. She definitely wasn’t, but he made her feel that way. One asshole had the gall to tell her he wasn’t sure she should be on top because she weighed too much. She wasn’t a twig, but she wasn’t that big. Or, she hadn’t thought so until he said so. Needless to say, she kicked his ass out, but had never quite forgotten that incident. Thankfully, she married a man who didn’t complain about how much she weighed, and she didn’t have to worry about breaking him in half.

When her bare ass landed on something cold, she clutched at him before realizing they were in a private bathroom she had never noticed before. Unlike the office, it was dimly lit. There were touches of wood mixed with dark stone that reminded her of a high-end spa. There was a glass shower, a wood stool, and a door that she assumed led to a closet.

He settled her on the vanity and washed his face and slicked back his mussed hair before he wet a towel and cleaned her. She stayed quiet and compliant throughout as her body basked in the afterglow. He went back to the sink to rinse the cloth and came back to continue his task. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and just be, but she knew he had other stuff to do. He was already lost in thought, his mind far away. It was jarring for him to be so hyper fixated during sex and have him disengage so quickly after. To bring him back to her, she ventured, “Are you really going to let someone watch us?”

His busy hand paused, and his gaze lifted to hers. His guards were firmly back in place. That openness he displayed when they were intimate was gone, as if it had never been.

“Is that what you want?”

His tone was even, but she sensed the underlying tension in his question, which sobered her quickly. She tried to keep the mood light by giving him a gentle smile.

“I don’t need that. It’s a fantasy. I wouldn’t ask that of you if you weren’t comfortable.”

What should have reassured him seemed to have the opposite effect. He tossed the rag to the side and planted his hands on either side of her, eyes narrowed into slits.

“How many guys did you do it with?”

She jerked upright. “None!”

“Are you lying?”

“No!” The men in Boston weren’t as adventurous as she’d hoped. She hesitated before she reached out and ran her hand down his chest. “You don’t have to make our sex life more adventurous than it already is unless…” She searched his face. “Is that something you want to try as well?” She ignored the flip in her tummy as she asked, “Or have you already done it?” He put her into a different category because she was his wife, but she could see him not giving a fuck with someone else. “What have you done? Threesomes? Bondage?”

His expression didn’t alter the slightest bit. He would have been an excellent poker player. She thought she saw into this man’s soul minutes ago, and now she couldn’t read him at all. Despite what Sarai said, she wasn’t fooled. Roth was incredibly dominant, extremely sexual, and admitted to his fair share of fantasies. They’d been apart five years. He could have developed any number of fetishes in that time.

He stepped back, leaving the hand that had been on his chest suspended in midair. Without answering her questions, he left the bathroom, leaving her sitting naked on the vanity. She stared after him and tamped down on her emotions before they could run riot.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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