Page 46 of After Hours

Their life. Their beautiful, beautiful life, filled with more wonder and joy than she ever could have imagined.

If anything, the games they played had only gotten hotter. And the longer they were together, the more that power exchange he talked about on the very first night consumed them.

Though that wasn’t the right way to put it, Romily thought. It wasn’t that itconsumedthem. It was just… who they were.

Radical trust. Radical honesty.

It wasn’t always easy, but it was so beautiful, and it was theirs.

He had turned her into a gym rat like him. She was barely recognizable from the haunted, terrified creature who had scurried around this neighborhood when she’d first moved here. Now she had muscles everywhere. She could lift well over her body weight, do actual pull ups, and was training for a half-marathon. She’d learned how to box, too, just in case any unpleasant memories slithered into view one of these days.

She could more than take care of herself, and that made her feel safe.

But she also didn’thaveto take care of herself, because Zachary did that—and that made her feel even safer.

She took care of him in return, fully aware of what an honor it was that she was the only one he let close enough to do that.

Her marriage had been so twisted and suffocating that it had never occurred to her to imagine that she could have a life like this. Zachary expected her to be his partner in all things. The gym. His life. His friends. Nothing was hidden. Everything was open. He’d insisted that she study this lifestyle that they’d fallen into, but most people plotted out more deliberately.

The way he should have done, she knew now. It made her smile, standing there, to think back to those early days. He’d been a Viking god to her, and it never would have crossed her mind if he was anything but in total control of himself.

And now she knew that he’d fallen as hard as foolishly she had.

It made her feel giddy.

But not as giddy as she felt when the door opened and he walked in.

And they both smiled as if they hadn’t seen each other in years.

“I am, at last, a single woman,” she told him. When his dark brow rose, she smiled wider, even as that electricity coiled side of her. “Legally speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” Zachary agreed.

He moved over to her and looped a hand around the nape of her neck, pulling her close so he could kiss her. Just as filthy as ever.

She was wet instantly. She was shivering immediately.

And she gasped as if it was the first time when he whirled her around and bent her over the narrow bench in front of the window that was there for precisely this purpose.

His hands were on her hips, then he tugging the flirty little skirt she wore out of his way.

She didn’t know when she’d stopped wearing pants outside the gym. She only knew that he approved of her wearing skirts, because it was easier to get his hands on her. He liked her unencumbered, without panties as well, so he could fuck her pretty much where and when he wanted.

Which he did. All the time.

Zachary was deep inside her with one hard thrust and she let her head fall forward, gripping the bench with her fingers. Romily wanted to come, desperately. But he was silent. She knew what that meant.

“We’ll get your tattoo tomorrow,” he said as he fucked her, deep and hard and right on the verge of uncomfortable, just the way she liked it.

As he set that relentless rhythm of his, he slapped her ass with one hard palm. Then the other side. He wasn’t gentle.

Because he knew. He knew exactly what spanking her while he was fucking her did to her. He knew exactly how much she loved it. How that stinging pain swirled around and seemed to pierce her clit.

Where she was already pierced. They had picked out the rings in her nipples and the jewel in her clitoral hood together. And it had all taken some time to heal, so she’d gotten even more skilled at the kind of face fucking he liked most.

She remembered that very first night and how he’d watched her watch him fuck the blonde so intensely, with his cock so far down her throat.

Romily still took pleasure in recreating that scene—and making it better for him.

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