Page 24 of Satin Empire

“We can make rules,” I finally concede, and that seems to make her relax a little bit. “I didn’t know you were a control freak.”

“It’s a gift and a curse.” She leans her head back, eyes closed. I stare at her throat and imagine peppering it with kisses while she writhes beneath me, moaning and gasping, those perfect tits heaving with each breath.

I’m fucking hard, and I have to get myself under control.

“How about this. I’ll take you back home. You can pack your stuff, or I can get some of my guys to take care of that?—”

“I’ll pack,” she says quickly.

“That’s fine. You pack and I’ll bring a truck over around six to move some stuff in. We can get everything else later on, so only bring what you really need. Does that work?”

“I’m coming up with rules. And you are going to obey them.”

I try not to laugh. “What happens if I don’t?”

She doesn’t think it’s funny. “I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“Ah, baby, new kink unlocked.”

“Stop it. Can you just agree, please?”

“Fine.” I hold up my hands, smile dying away. She’s having a hard day, just like me, and I can at least go easy on her. “You come up with rules and we’ll discuss them. This is a partnership, baby.”

“Stop calling me baby,” she mutters, arms crossed.

“Why? Because you’re too young and every time I say it, you’re reminded of that fact?”

“No, prick, because it’s too intimate and I don’t even like you yet.”

“The kiss told me different. I think you liked that a lot. Just like you enjoyed when I palmed your tits and dragged you off that stage.”

Her eyes widen and her lips part. She licks them slightly. “You wish. You think you’re being sneaky when you stare at me like I’m your favorite meal? The first rule’s going to be, hands to your fucking self.” She shoves herself out of the chair. “Now take me home. I’m done with this.”

I slowly get up, aware that she’s going to notice my erection, but fuck it. No use in pretending.

Sure enough, her eyes give me a once-over, and pause at my crotch, her mouth opening wider. Another thrill runs through me and I wonder if I just discovered a new kink: surprising Alana with my hard cock.

“Don’t look so shocked, baby. I’m a man and you look good in that dress. Now come on, I’ll follow your stupid rule.” For now, anyway.

She says nothing, only trails after me, and I do deep breaths to get my blood flowing anywhere but my dick right now, and it only helps a little bit.

I have to keep reminding myself that she’s too goddamn young. It’s not a few years—she’s fifteen years younger than me. She’s a goddamn child in comparison, and it doesn’t matter if she’s twenty-one and it’s all legally fine—she’s still too young. I don’t care how fuckable she is or what that damn kiss made me feel, and I don’t care that she looks like heaven in a dress right now.

She’s not really my wife.

I need to find a way out of this.

Chapter 12

Alana

My first night in a brand-new apartment with a total stranger for a husband feels completely wrong on so many levels.

It’s easy to forget about my nightly routine. It becomes invisible with repetition to the point that I barely notice it’s happening anymore. Each evening I do the same stuff, go through my skincare, brush my teeth, look at my phone, watch some videos on TikTok, scroll a bit of Instagram, read a few chapters, lights out. It’s so simple and mundane, and it never fails to knock me unconscious by the time my head’s on the pillow and the lights are out.

Except suddenly my routine is invaded by a massive, handsome asshole.

I hate the way he brushes his teeth. It’s too aggressive, like he’s trying to scrape the ice from the windshield of a frozen truck. I hate the way he flosses, like he’s trying to grind stone with a rope, and I hate the way he gets changed, without an ounce of shame. I catch sight of muscular thighs, an ass like a freaking midafternoon sun, and a bulge that makes my mouth water. I hate it all, everything about him, even though he’s clearly doing his best to give me some space and let me do my thing, I still hate it all.

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