My pussy is on fire. I’m aching. I need more than him inside me. I need him to fuck me, hard, fast, unforgiving. I need him to stop the outer part of my hole from hurting. I want to be stretched and used.
Rowan flips me over and pulls me up by my hair to my knees, fucking me hard from the back. When I look into the middle of the room, I see Sebastian and Angelica doing the same. Her head is laid back on his shoulder as he holds her against his body, jack-hammering his cock in and out.
Rowan doesn’t do short, fast strokes. He does long, hard, punishing strokes. The kind that I know I’ll feel for days after. The tip of his crown drags across that spot deep inside me, and his fingers press against my clit. That’s all it takes. And I’m climaxing right along with Angelica, falling onto the silk sheets and into Rowan’s arms as he shoots his come inside me.
I’m rung out.
Tired.
And officially, debauched.
Chapter 27 Rowan
My breath tastes like garbage. It’s so bad; it’s what wakes me up. I’m never this hungover, but right now, my stomach is turning so much, I’m sweating. My head is pounding, hammering against my skull. I hold my hand against it, feeling a cold metal ring press against my face. My brows furrow, and I pull it away.
My vision blurs for a second before the wedding ring comes to view. My heart skips a beat a little. I’m not going to lie. I’m nervous.
I’m married. I’m fucking married. Please, fucking god, tell me I married Everly and not some girl off the fucking street because I can’t remember anything past that weird sex dungeon place, we went to last night.
I wouldn’t do it again, but I’m glad we went because the sex was fantastic.
I flip over in a rush and pull the blankets off the body next to me. “Oh, thank fuck.” I flop back on the bed when I see long, honey brown hair fanning over the pillow. I don’t know what I would have done if that wasn’t Everly. What a nightmare that would have been.
Turning over, again, I gaze over her body to see what kind of ring we got. My eyes bug out at the size of the diamond sitting on her finger. Why don’t I remember buying something like that? It’s beautiful, but it takes up half her finger. It’s an emerald-cut on a solid, rose gold band. I don’t even remember walking into a jewelery store. I’m starting to think some type of drug was in the air of that sex palace we went to last night because I’ve never felt so shitty in my life.
I roll out of bed, groaning as the room spins, and stumble to my pants laying on the floor. When I look down, I’m naked, and I have my come and her come dried on me. Just what the hell did we do last night? I’m not complaining that we had sex. I love having sex with her. I just hope we didn’t have sex with other people at that dungeon.
This is why I don’t drink so much. Something must have happened because the last time I was this hungover, I was a freshman in college.
I bend over and pull out a bunch of receipts, at least I remember to do that for tax write-offs, and look for the ring receipt. I don’t care that she has it. I’m glad she got the one she wanted. At least, I think it is? It doesn’t really look like it’s her style, but I know women love their rings, so I won’t question it.
I unwrap all my receipts, trying to not make too much noise with the paper crinkling. It’s the fifth receipt that makes me cough. Three million dollars? I can afford it. It isn’t a problem, but three million dollars? For a hunk of rock? I could have taken her around the world twice, stayed at the best villas, houses, and took her on thousands of different adventures for that price.
This is where I remind myself I’m a billionaire and need to calm down. I catch myself doing that sometimes. Forgetting that I’m not the kid in a beat-up Toyota that I used to be. I toss the receipt to the side and walk to the bathroom. I don’t care. If she is happy, I am happy.
There are a few things we haven’t talked about when it comes to marriage. Does she see this as just six months for the inheritance? Or what? Would she want to stay married to me after the six months? There is a lot that we haven’t talked about. A ton. And there is still the issue of our parents.
We still need to plan the funerals, but the bodies weren’t ready to be transported yet because of the snowstorm.
I hang my head in the shower, trying not to let all the unanswered questions get to me. The hot water rolls off my back, and I groan from out good it feels. Washing off the entire night feels good. And I don’t feel as sick. After a good scrub, making sure I pay attention to my cock and balls, I wrap a towel around my waist, brush my teeth, and walk back into the bedroom where I see Everly standing by the bed and staring at her ring.
I know that face. She is about to freak out.
“Why don’t I remember this?” she asks. “Why is there a rock the size of Texas on my finger?”
“I woke up with the same questions. Luckily, it seems we got hammered and picked you out a wedding ring. Now we can call the lawyer and say we are married.” The word rolls off my tongue in a weird way. I love saying we’re married, but something doesn’t feel right.
Something feels off, but I’m not going to say anything. I want us
