Page 81 of Under Control

He pokes his head around the canvas. “You changed your mind?”

“I changed my mind.” I raise my chin in defiance. “I’m allowed to change my mind.”

“Of course you are, darling, but this isn’t—” He waves his hand, searching for something. “This isn’t whether you likepumpkin pie. This is your vicious, scary as hell husband. You’re falling in love.”

I open my mouth to deny it because of course I’m not falling inlove,don’t be absurd?—

But yeah, he’s dead on.

I’m absolutely falling head over heels in love with my husband.

I say nothing, but the smirk he gives me suggests he can see what I’m thinking written all over my face.

“Good for you,” he murmurs and gets back to work.

I try to steer the conversation away from Valentin after that. Merrick tells me about how his work’s been going (“boring, awful, tedious, these fucking blood-sucking art dealers are all total vampires”), he mentions his love life (“sweaty and vigorous”), and he goes on at length about a new divan he wants to purchase. I let the mindless chatter wash over me, and soon the hours slip past, and I don’t even realize I should be worried until there are footsteps coming up to the studio.

“Who in the fucking hell is—” Merrick’s on his feet, wielding his paintbrush like a knife, and I quickly pull the robe around me and tighten the sash, expecting one of Merrick’s boyfriends to appear.

Instead, Valentin steps into the room. He glances at Merrick before leveling an intense and possessive stare my way, licking his lips as his gaze drifts down the robe.

“Leave us,” Valentin orders.

“Uh, right.” Merrick clears his throat. “I’ll just, uh, go down the block and get some coffee.”

“Good.”

Merrick hurries out of his own studio and leaves his own house, purely because of the weight of Valentin’s command.

Once we’re alone, I stand in the middle of the room. He comes toward me, the floorboards creaking under his heavy steps.

“You’re safe,” I say, relief washing over me.

“Were you worried?”

“It was terrible.”

He doesn’t smile. He only stares death and the promise of sin. “You shouldn’t ever worry about me. I’ll come back for you.”

“Sounds like a pretty creepy promise.”

He covers the distance between us and laces a fist in my hair. He pulls, roughly. “Sometimes, I wonder,” he whispers as I gasp in pain. “You don’t seem to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That you are entirely mine and I am entirely yours.” He buries my mouth in a bruising kiss before ripping off the silk robe. I whimper, totally naked before him, as he shoves me roughly back against the wall beside the window. His mouth finds my nipple and he licks, sucking hard, and I moan as his other hand wrenches open my legs.

I pretend to struggle, mostly just to feel his power. I’m not disappointed—he keeps me pinned like I’m nothing. One hand teases my pussy as he licks and sucks my nipples, getting them wet and hard, and his other hand holds me in place.

“At least tell me,” I say, moaning as his fingers slide up inside of me. “Tell me everything went to plan.”

He bites my nipple. I yelp, but he’s already soothing me with kisses. “It went perfectly,” he says.

Then he releases my pussy and unbuckles his belt. His pants come off, followed by his shirt, and I’m kissing his tattooed chest as I take his thick cock in both hands.

He pushes me to my knees, fist in my hair.

“Tell me you like this,” he says as he holds his shaft with one hand, teasing my lips. Marking me with his tip.

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