Page 62 of The Marriage

He could consume her completely—lose himself in the way she felt milking his cock, and he became happily drunk on every sound she made.

Karine bit down on her plump bottom lip, opening her eyes wide when his fingers dug in hard enough to leave behind red marks.

“Watch this—watch me,” he told her.

He pinned her down to the bed by her hands when she’d grabbed his wrists. The pillows at her back gave her enough incline to see the way his cock looked stretching her open. Every stroke found his length wetter than the last. He loved being coated in her, knowing soon she was going to be full of him.

The first time she came, she did it with a whisper of his name. Unable to move under his hands, she went still with eyes blown wide as he fucked her through it.

The second time, he’d managed to get her bent over the pillows while his hands were on her hips, pumping his cock in and out of her in quick succession until every last drop of his seed was buried deep in her.

She’d pushed back into him when he came, too, using her hands against the bed to steady her trembling form as the waves of her hair tickled his chest, and she sat hard on his cock to take it the way he demanded.

Karine’s cheeks were flushed as she stared back at him. Sweaty, and pinked.

He pushed some stray strands of hair off her shoulder and out of the way, then kissed the tip of her nose.

“You promised,” she repeated.

He did.

Still hard and jerking inside her with every jostle of their bodies, Roman said, “I am hopelessly, completely in love with you, Karine. I will never abandon you.”

Her breasts heaved after he’d pulled out of her, and she yanked him down on top of her on the bed again. She reached up to touch his face, tracing her finger along the sharp lines of his cheeks and jaws, not complaining about his weight on her.

Though it was substantial.

“I know that. I have always known that. You don’t have to teach me to trust you,” she finally whispered.

Didn’t he?

Trust like that was always earned.

*

Sylvia D’Souza, Karine’s head therapist in the Twin Rivers facility, stood beside Roman the next morning with a coffee in her hand. He had his own brown paper cup which he’d been sipping from while she droned on about policies and bullshit—and his complete lack of disregard for all of it.

“You know, we have strict rules in place regarding family contact, and we have them there for a reason. While we encourage family members to keep in touch regularly, and we are very happy to coordinate meetings—spending the night in a client’s room—well, it shouldn’t have happened.”

While Sylvia spoke, Karine was in the garden across from them. She was tucking some bulbs of something into the dug up soil, though he hadn’t thought to ask what. Even though she was probably aware of being watched, she chose to ignore them. She had to have known they were talking about her, too.

He admired her for that—for her ability to accept the fact that her life was the subject of discussion to the people around her whether she wanted it that way or not.

Roman took a sip of his coffee and shrugged. “Did they learn something?”

That question had the woman’s cheeks burning red. “They deleted the camera footage if that’s what you’re asking.”

He actually hadn’t been.

“Yeah, listen—I know it’s against the rules, but I’m sure you get that these are unusual circumstances.”

Sylvia looked at him with an almost indulgent smile. “Each of our guests are here because of the unusual circumstances of their lives. We cannot make exceptions. For the sake of your wife’s recovery—follow policy. Otherwise, we’ll have to discuss removing her from the program.”

Threats now?

“Look at her today. Does she look like a woman who needs any of this after spending the night with her husband?”

As if on cue, Karine turned her face up at the sun and shielded her eyes to look. They could clearly see the smile on her face, the pink in her cheeks—the life in her eyes.