Page 74 of Roped

I blink, disappointment crushing my chest. “Well… I mean, okay. I-I’m glad it makes sense. I didn’t think you would go for that, and—”

“Your brother ain’t the one who stole you.”

“What?”

“Not once but twice,” he goes on, his hand down there starting to move again, making me squirm in his lap.

“That’s not why.”

“He didn’t drug you, tie you up”—a light tap down below—“not once but twice.”

Jerking in his lap, I shake my head again. “It’s not about that. I know why you… why you did those things. I know you did them because you had to.”

His eyes flash and his stare becomes penetrating. “Not really, no. Coulda found another way. Any other goddamn way than to put you in front of a firin’ squad.”

I raise my hand and cup his cheek, the left side. I run my thumb slowly over his scar and his nostrils flare, his eyes fluttering closed like they did the first time I touched it. Telling me, again, that he hasn’t been touched like this before. With tenderness, with love. “It wasn’t a firing squad. It was one man. And you took that bullet, not me. It didn’t even touch me.”

His jaw clenches, his eyes becoming unfocused. “Don’t make it right. What I did. Everythin’ I did.”

I know what he’s talking about. He’s not only referring to everything he did these past few weeks with me, but also what happened between him and his sister. And I press my hand on his face, trying to get his attention. “You did what you could. You did what you thought was best. You were trying to save your sister. And I know you blame yourself for what happened with her but you were grieving. You are—”

His nostrils flare again, his chest moving with a breath as he taps my core once more. I know he did that on purpose. I know he did it knowing that I’ll get distracted and damn it, he was right because I moan and arch, my thighs shaking.

Then it’s his turn to speak. “You talk a good game, Princess, but you still ran from me, didn’t you. And let me tell you, as capable as your big brother is, he ain’t as capable as I am. He won’t do the things I will do for you.” He flexes his arm around my belly as he goes on, “Things that you like. That make you wet, so wet that you drip down on the floor of a honky-tonk bar, in front of an asshole guy I’ve ordered to never look at you if he wants to live. He won’t chase you when you run. He won’t threaten any and every man who looks at you wrong. Hell, any and every man who just plain looks at you period. He won’t beat them up, feed ’em to wild, hungry animals. He won’t watch you the way I do, darlin’.

“He won’t know all your little laughs and what it means when you duck your eyes to the ground. He won’t know which of your smiles are real and which are fake; when you’re havin’ fun and when you’re just pretendin’. He won’t know that you aren’t scared of anythin’ and even if you are, you won’t let that stop you from doin’ what needs to be done. But most of all, he won’t know that as much as you like to be a mouthy brat, you also like to be my good girl, my Princess. He won’t know how much you like to follow my rules as much as you like to break ’em. Or how fuckin’ brave you are takin’ on the entire world for a monster like me. Only I know that, don’t I? Only I know how sweet you are. On the outside and the inside too. Sweeter than anythin’ I’ve ever tasted. Sweeter than honey, sweeter than the whiskey I was drinkin’, waitin’ for you to come out of hidin’. Only I know how you flush every time I touch you down there. How needy you become, how horny and greedy. How you twist your hips, jerk ’em like a slut, tryna chase my touch. And only I know how loud you’re gonna scream just by the hitch of your breath.”

“I—”

“And you know what, Princess, just to prove to you that I’m better than your asshole brother and I’ll do anythin’, any-fuckin’-thing, to keep you with me, I’ll do you one better.” He goes on, his words making me go crazy, “I’ll give you what you want and I’ll keep my promise.”

“What?”

He whispers in my ear, “I’ll put my mouth on you and I’ll leave you a virgin at the end of it.” Before I can say anything to that, he continues, “And I want you to know, as much as I don’t like anyone else hearin’ your angel voice, I’d like it even less if they heard you scream like a horny little slut for me. But that don’t matter, yeah? ’Cause I’ll just use my hand to gag you again, so you scream as much as you like.”

I don’t even know what to make of it, and I don’t get the time to figure it out either, before he maneuvers me again. This time, to move me off his lap and put me down on the table, my legs hanging off to the side. The wooden surface is cool and feels jarring after being plastered to his hot chest. I’m trying to pull myself up when he steps to the side and spreads my legs, stepping between them.

He looks so large, towering over me, his chest so massive, his torso so thick and muscular. But instead of staring down at me, his focus is fixed on the bartender, whose eyes are all wide and frightened. “Don’t forget the rules, boy.”

The bartender flinches and so do I. I’m sure he did it out of fright while mine was because I love, love, how Radisson scares everyone away from me. I love how cherished it makes me feel, how safe and loved. Even though I know this isn’t about that.

“Look away from what’s mine if you wanna live. It ain’t your goddamn business how I apologize to my wife and remind her who she belongs to,” he growls, his hands on my thighs rough and tight, making me roll my slutty hips and moan. The bartender is all red in the face as Radisson reaches behind and pulls something out of his waistband. My breath hitches when I see the gun in his hand, the one he used yesterday at the warehouse. He sets it down on the table, by my heaving chest, and continues to address the bartender: “That’ll be your only warnin’.”

Squeaking, the guy spins around and Radisson’s focus comes back to me. His eyes are all dark and threatening, so beautiful and possessive. I open my mouth to say something, but Radisson goes down on his knees and spreads my thighs even wider. He pushes my dress up and, in the next breath, puts his mouth on me.

Shocked and moaning, I arch my back and my hands grip the edge of the table. I don’t know why I’m acting so surprised when in the back of my mind, I did have an idea what he meant when he said he’d put his mouth on me and then spread me out on the table like I’m a feast to be had. His feast. But maybe I wasn’t expecting him to actually do it. To lick me down there, right at the center. His mouth is so hot and wet, so possessive as he sucks on me that by his third lick that sounds like a slurp, given how wet I am, I’m coming.

And I’m coming so fucking loud that even if he hasn’t told me that I could scream as much as I wanted, I still would be. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything this intense in my life, and I know I keep saying that when it comes to him but it’s the truth. Everything he does to me, every new thing, is my new favorite.

Including the fact that as my core ripples around his tongue, he creeps his hand up and gags my mouth. He lets his hand absorb all my moans and whines and screams so no one can hear how loud I am for my husband. How slutty and needy. How alive. How much I belong to him and him only, no one else.

As I’m coming down from the high, I feel him rising from between my thighs and covering my still shaking body with his. He grabs my throat with one hand, his fingers spanning the entire length of it as he demands, “Promise me. Promise you won’t run from me.”

I blink my eyes open. “I…”

“Promise you won’t run,” he demands roughly, his eyes still dark and heated. “And I promise to let you go when all of this is over.”

My hands fly off the table and grip his forearms. “You p-promise?”