Carrying her effortlessly out of the library.
As they passed through the living room, the maids gasped openly.
Workers froze in place, and even the gardener who had come in to retrieve a knife from the kitchen stared so hard that his tools slipped from his hands.
But Kacy and Ivana were lost in each other, completely oblivious to the stunned eyes following them.
Even his men, who had been on their way to report something urgent, stopped dead. They could hardly believe it.
Their boss, the man the media proudly crowned a playboy, was capable of this kind of raw, instinctive devotion.
Carrying his wife so intimately, so shamelessly, through the heart of the house.
They had heard rumors.
That he was doting.
That he was possessive.
That he loved her fiercely.
They never truly believed it.
Seeing it now, with their own eyes, erased all doubt.
Their boss was completely, hopelessly gone for love.
When they reached his home office, he laid her gently across the surface of his desk.
Her stomach pressed to the smooth wood, her back facing him. The tie still bound her wrists.
Her naked body brushed against the hardness of the table, against scattered files and documents, and the sensation sent a sharp rush through her, her pulse spiking without warning.
She didn't understand why it felt like this, only that it did.
"Ha… I just remembered something, Ivy…"
His voice, hot, velvet, devastating, pulled her from her spiraling thoughts.
"W w w what…"
Her voice cracked, fear and anticipation tangling together.
He leaned forward, his broad chest pressing against her bare back. She gasped at the contact, the solid heat of him grazing her skin through the fabric of his black shirt.
His hand closed around one of her ass cheeks, gripping hard. She gasped again before a sharp spank followed.
"To fuck your pretty pussy before I left for business," he murmured calmly, dangerously.
"I almost forgot the task I left unfinished before going to Paris."
Another spank landed on her other cheek.
"Ahhh… fuck… Kace…" she moaned, louder now.
One thing Ivana knew, without question, was that her husband never needed to raise his voice.
He didn't shout.
He didn't yell.
And yet, every word he spoke landed with precision.
In the eight months she had known him, she had learned that his whispers were far more dangerous than anger.
His low voice alone could unravel her, send heat rushing through her veins, leave her shaking under the weight of his attention.
One look from him, slow and deliberate, was enough to steal her breath.
To the world, Kacy Lillard was calm.
Controlled.
Almost gentle.
Seductive.
That was the illusion.
What they didn't see was what lived beneath that calm.
The quiet dominance threaded through every soft word.
The way his voice could turn velvet one second and lethal the next.
It was no wonder the media painted him as a playboy, no wonder women folded so easily at his feet.
His charm was effortless, his presence intoxicating.
But they never understood the truth.
His softness was calculated.
His seduction intentional.
And when desire darkened his gaze, when his voice dropped into that husky, dangerous register, there was nothing gentle about it.
Especially not in the way he looked at her.
During business, his tone was calm, low, precise, ruthless.
But with her, everything changed.
Behind those calm blue eyes lived something raw.
Possessive.
Unapologetically dark.
That look, that voice, that power he wielded so effortlessly was hers alone. He never shared it. Never offered it to anyone else.
Every emotion he hid from the world, every shadow he kept buried, belonged only to her.
And she felt it every time he spoke her name.
His soft, heated whisper dragged her back.
"Yes… fuck…" he breathed, desire thick in his voice.
"Moan my name like a chant, pretty. Because when I'm done with you, you won't even have the voice to say the first letter."
Her body reacted instantly.
The way he spoke made heat coil low in her belly, sharp and undeniable.
She didn't understand why his words alone had such power over her, why they stripped her bare without a single touch.
Her husband was nothing like a savior.
He was no knight.
He was the kind of darkness you didn't escape.
His voice haunted her, followed her, claimed her.
The way he teased, the way he held her attention until the world narrowed down to just him.
The way he made her feel as though she was the only thing he saw, the only thing he wanted, the only thing he would ever touch.
His kisses were never gentle.
They were consuming.
Ruining.
Every whisper pulled her deeper, every look daring her to surrender, until resistance felt impossible and wanting him felt inevitable.
"Oh God… Kace…" she cried, her moans breaking free as he spanked and kneaded her ass again and again. Her wrists strained helplessly against the tie.
"Yes, little moonlight," he murmured. "Moan harder."
He leaned closer, lifting her chin until their lips brushed. His mouth covered hers just as the sound of his belt unbuckling reached her ears.
She pulled away instinctively, straining against the table, fingers fumbling with the tie.
His soft chuckle followed.
His pants dropped.
She glanced down and gasped.
His dick strained hard against the fabric.
He wasted no time.
His shirt and boxers were gone, and his length sprang free, heavy and unyielding.
Before she could speak, he pressed her chest back to the table, her breasts grazing the cold surface as he captured her mouth again.
She moaned into the kiss, his lips demanding, their tongues moving in a slow, filthy, lustful rhythm.
Then he pulled back.
Circling the desk like a predator, he lifted her hips, her stomach pressed flat while she knelt helplessly.
Her breasts hung free, her body trembling.
In a single motion, he climbed onto the table, settling between her legs, his big frame caging her in. His dick brushed against her ass, sending sparks through her spine.
He laughed softly, arms sliding around her waist.
Then he leaned close, his mouth at her ear, and whispered calmly, desire blazing in his eyes.
"Are you on birth control, Ivy?"
"Yes," was all she managed to murmur.
He leaned in close, forcing her to meet his gaze, their eyes locked as his stare burned straight into hers.
He gave her no time to think, no space to brace herself, before he drove into her ass hard.
Her head fell back, eyes rolling as she screamed his name.
His movements grew brutal, ruthless, maddening, thrusting deep as her moans shattered into something cracked and tearful.
Her eyes fluttered open and shut, lost in the overwhelming sensation and arousal.
Her lips were sore from crying out his name, her throat dry, tears blurring her vision.
She was ruined beyond measure.
Her hands clenched and tugged desperately at the tie binding her wrists, her body trembling as her breasts swayed helplessly with every harsh thrust.
He took her without mercy, and the sight of it made something dark and twisted bloom inside him.
Call him a psycho if you want.
He watched everything.
He watched her reactions as he drove her senseless, and he loved it.
He loved locking eyes with her, watching the tears gather and spill, watching her eyes roll back and then find his again.
Her lips quivered with moans, his name and only his name.
Her face was flushed and swollen, tears trailing down her cheeks to her neck.
Fuck, he loved everything about her.
"Ahhh… please… Kace…" she cried, her voice breaking. "It hurts… ahhh…"
A low, cruel smirk curved his lips.
"Guess I didn't try hard enough," he murmured calmly, "since you can still talk."
He broke eye contact and forced her face down against his body, thrusting harder, faster.
Her muffled cries disappeared into him, unheard, desperate. Her wrists twisted uselessly against the tie, hands burning red as she sobbed silently.
He thrusts harder, unyielding, unforgiving, while the room filled only with the rhythm of his violence and her helpless surrender.
"Moan harder for me, little moonlight," he whispered, low and dangerous.
His hand closed around her breast, squeezing, pinching until she gasped sharply.
But it wasn't until his mouth closed over her nipple that her head snapped up and a scream ripped from her throat.
Her eyes rolled back again, tears streaming freely now.
She barely had time to breathe before he drove into her relentlessly, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
Her body shook, voice breaking as she cried out,
"I'm coming… ahhh!"
"Let's come together, baby."
His final thrust stole her scream completely.
She clenched helplessly around the tie as release tore through her, her body collapsing forward when he finally pulled away.
He watched his wife in silence.
She lay flat against the table, utterly still, unable to form a single word.
His gaze drifted to her wrists, flushed red where his tie still bound them, and a slow smirk curved his lips.
He had forgotten about it.
Wrapped there since, in the library.
A quiet breath left him, something almost amused. She's going to be the death of me.
He stepped down from the table and moved to stand in front of her.
Her eyes rolled weakly, lifting just enough to find him. She said nothing, only watched as his hands reached for her wrists.
Those wide, innocent emerald eyes followed every movement as he carefully loosened the tie and slipped it free.
He bent and pressed a soft kiss to the reddened skin.
The tie fell to the floor, forgotten.
Her lashes fluttered when his mouth found her tear-stained cheek.
When he pulled away, she gathered the last of her strength, lifting one trembling leg to hook around his waist, her arms sliding up to rest around his neck. She stared at him, silent.
What could she even say?
Her throat was raw, cracked from her cries, her voice gone. So she remained mute, resting against him, breathing slowly as she tried to recover.
Without a word, he gathered her up and led her toward the bathroom attached to his office, her body pliant in his hold, the darkness between them still thick and lingering.
She barely registered when they reached the bathroom, or when he set her gently in the tub and slid in after her.
"Warm or cold, Ivy?" he whispered softly, lips brushing her ear.
She gasped, unable to speak, and pointed weakly.
He smirked and pressed the button.
"Ahh… too cold," she shivered.
He raised a brow, unimpressed, and switched it to warm. When she didn't protest, he pulled her closer, her body settling against his hard dick, her reaction earning a faint blush he noticed.
"Did you miss me, little moonlight?"
That voice alone sent a rush of heat across her skin, raising goosebumps she couldn't hide.
They both knew the truth of it before she ever answered.
"Hmmm…"
The sound barely left her lips before he bent to her neck, mouth finding that sensitive curve.
A soft gasp escaped her.
"You know I really love the sounds you make when I do that," he murmured with a smirk. "But I can't really suck your pretty pussy again. I don't want it more sore."
His gaze flicked to her red wrists before he lifted them to his lips, pressing slow kisses there.
Silent moans slipped from her mouth.
He leaned back, lowering her hands gently onto her lap, then shifted his attention to her flushed face.
Moments later, his hands moved again, rubbing foamy soap over her back, slow and soothing.
"Um…"
Her voice was barely there, her throat still sore.
"What is it, little moonlight?"
He whispered calmly against her neck. She tried to scoot away, but he dragged her back to him. Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling fast.
"Our parents called for a meeting," she said softly after clearing her throat.
"When?"
His lips grazed her neck, making her heart race even faster.
"Um… evening."
The word came out as a whisper, battling the heat and lust pooling low in her body.
"Really…"
A playful smirk tugged at his lips as he moved to her collarbone, biting softly.
She was at the verge of gasping, but he caught her moan quickly, soothing the spot with slow kisses.
"Yes, so um…"
She stuttered, licking her lips, her face burning.
"What, pretty?"
His lips left her collarbone and slid into her hair as he inhaled her scent.
His face lingered there, unhurried.
She gasped, gripping the side of the tub, trying to breathe but his presence overwhelmed her.
She ended up breathing him in his strawberry mixed chocolate scent,
while her rose scent clung to him.
"I'm scared of facing my parents," she finally said, once he withdrew from his torturous ministrations.
He didn't answer.
He simply brushed her hair away from the back of her neck and buried his face there.
She gasped, moaning softly, unaware that his mind had shifted.
Her sounds filled him, but the meeting loomed heavy in his thoughts.
Something about it felt wrong.
Dangerous.
Like it would change everything.
Pulling her closer, he dipped his face deeper into her neck, tracing a slow, deliberate path with his tongue.
She moaned tearfully, thinking it was only pleasure.
She didn't know it was more than that.
It was longing.
And fear.
And the quiet terror of losing her while his thoughts spiraled in too many directions at once.