Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
A soft laugh, a bit sad and a bit uncertain. “I wish you were a nicer man.”
“If I were a nicer man, you would still belong to Jacques. Nice men are not effective men. They are only nice because they want something and expect payment for their behavior. What you need is a man who loves you, and I do. And I don’t need to be nice to get what I want. But that does not mean I am unkind. I will always be kind to you. And sometimes kindness looks vicious, but it’s deeply misunderstood. Such as this morning when I forced you to see Jacques…” Drawing her to rest her head at the crook of his shoulder, Jules took up her hand, holding it to his heart, and slow danced his female to music only he could hear. “So you could heal.”
As she calmed, as she melted, he pressed his cheek to her hair and whispered, “Tonight doesn’t have to be miserable. I want your pleasure to come from me before Jacques starts with Lucia. Let it be my cock you feel tonight. Choose me.”
Stubborn silence.
“Trust me to take care of you.” His feet stopped, the dance over, Jules pulling back to enjoy her pretty face. “But first, a shower. You will feel much better clean, and it would be sweet of you to tend my shoulder.”
He grinned, sensing her new flash of irritation as he added, “I know you didn’t bite me on purpose, and that it wasn’t a gift. But I cherish it all the same. Thank you.”
17
Watching water bead on Brenya’s tan skin might be Jules’s second favorite pastime. The way it ran over her perky tits, droplets dangling from her nipples… delightful.
In all the days and nights they’d shared the Red Room, not once had he intruded on her in the bath. His wife had needed her space while she was healing. Needed to know she could relieve her body and bathe without a man rushing in to use her. Was learning that every time they were naked together, it didn’t have to be sexual.
It could be intimate.
It could be playful.
After all, Jules had studied the footage of Jacques’s particular bathing rituals with their shared Omega—the perfect primer to recondition Brenya. Armed with that data, he would differentiate his body, his intentions, his lust from the Alpha’s—who’d been pushy, demanding, and rough when he’d bathed the sweet Omega.
Treated her like a paid whore, with orders to wash him, to bend over, to suck.
To perform.
When Jules’s fingers had gone to pull down the zipper of her jumpsuit, his wife’s reaction had been outrage.
She had not forgiven him for the morning.
Yet her affront was snipped, all that energy redirected, when he’d rushed toward the bathroom after a wink, stripping off his bloodied shirt, laughing, while a baffled Omega had been too distracted by his antics to be furious or horrified. “Race you!”
Her jumpsuit hanging open, the look at her face flummoxed, she’d stood there a solid minute after he’d already climbed into the shower and began to scrub. Knowing his darling would fall for his ploy and creep in out of startled curiosity alone made his grin authentic.
Knowing she’d see his shoulder and would be compelled to fuss, pleasant.
The bite mark looked awful. As it should.
But she didn’t know that it was perfect.
Brenya had no idea that her mark was flawless and deep. One any male would show off with pride. And one he had earned unexpectedly.
Of all the moments Jules had engineered to produce a specific reaction, Brenya sinking her teeth into his shoulder had never been part of his carefully constructed caretaking.
Her bite had been instinctive—a plea, and an Omega’s enforcement of her standing.
Proving that the best laid plans offered hidden rewards.
Deep down, she knew she belonged to him. That he would always take care of her.
And this was only the beginning.
Then there she was, padding quietly into the bathroom, curious and unsure. Peeking from the door to spy him under the spray, Jules exhaling loudly, playing up the relief of a warm shower as suds carried traces of blood away.
Careful not to pose for her. Cock flaccid, harmless.
The shower was just a shower. At least today.
Without a glance at her, Jules bowed his head under the spray to rinse his hair, announcing, “I’ll wash your back, if you like. But I’m almost done if you want the space to yourself. I just need one more minute.”
“But your shoulder…” The click of the shower door opening, timid, naked feet stepping onto the tile. A beguiled woman treading into a carefully crafted web, as she muttered, “You didn’t wash it. Doesn’t it hurt? It’s very swollen.”
Jules gave a small start when she prodded the weeping bite, a little hiss as if her touch had hurt. It hadn’t hurt at all—pain didn’t register the way it had before the Undercroft—but his Omega responded with those wide doe eyes, their link tinkling with female concern.