Je Suis a Toi (Monsters in the Dark #3.5)(46)

“Do you think I want that, either?” The idea was abhorrent to the madness living inside me. The thought of chaste kisses and no passion. The idea of simple positions with no toys. It well and truly muzzled me. But it was what had to happen. I wasn’t worthy of getting her pregnant. But if I treated her better, perhaps I would be. “I won’t change my mind, Tess.”

Challenge fired in her gaze. “You want to bet?”

“I want you to obey.” Wrapping dangerous arms around her, I forced myself for the first time to touch her as if she’d break. I hugged her gently rather than fiercely. I kissed her sweetly rather than viciously, and I made a vow to keep myself caged until she was pregnant.

And then…once she was? Once she swelled with my unborn baby, would I be allowed to ruin her again?

Fuck, no.

Fear cloaked me. This was it. I’d had her to myself for so many precious years. I’d done everything I wanted, all that I pleased. If only that had remained enough for me. Because now I would turn my esclave from my naughty, kinky wife into the mother of my child.

I could never touch her the way I wanted again.

Is it worth destroying what you have?

I had no answer to that.

I had no idea what I needed or wanted anymore, and it pissed me off.

I supposed I’d have to remain chained to keep her safe because no way in f*cking hell would I hurt her while she carried our unborn son or daughter.

I shivered at those two titles.

Me.

With a son or daughter.

It was laughable. Suicidal.

But it was also what I wanted most in the motherf*cking world.

Moving with her in my embrace, I murmured, “Let’s go for a shower together. A nice vanilla shower.”

Tess frowned. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m deadly serious. And nothing you can say will tempt me otherwise.”

She grumbled but obeyed as I pulled her gently toward the bathroom. “We’ll see about that, ma?tre. I give you a day before you snap.”

I hated her pessimism and my internal agreement.

Not taking her the way I needed would be the hardest damn thing I’d ever done.

But I was committed.

And I wouldn’t falter.

“I love you, Tess. And that is why I’m doing this.”

As I stripped her of the bed sheet and turned on the shower where I’d broken her awful memories of rape and kidnapping, I refused to think about what my self-imposed damnation would do to her. She was as twisted as me. Sex had always been our safe place. Now, it was unknown. Forbidden.

But for this to work, we would have to give up a piece of ourselves.

For however long we needed.





I’D LIKE TO say Q changed his mind the second we stepped into the shower together. I’d love to say he snapped and shoved me against the tiles like the monster he was.

But he didn’t.

He washed me with all the reverence and care in the world.

He kissed me with barely any tongue.

And when he slid inside me, he wasn’t fully hard, and I wasn’t fully wet.

We weren’t hardwired for simple pleasures.

We fought because we needed that extra level of sensation.

And he’d just taken it away.

*

That afternoon, when he came home from work, I waited to see how long his self-imposed vanilla would last. I did my best to entice him after we crawled into bed, but he only hugged me until I unwillingly went to sleep.

For a week, that was the norm.

Q would take me every morning when we were both still sleep-hazy and not entirely coherent. He’d fill me after touching me with tormenting, teasing, and in no way satisfying strokes. He’d make me ready but not molten. And he’d come deep inside me, but it strained him. I could tell the struggle it was for him to orgasm without making me gasp and beg.

He needed my pain to get off. And without it, we both struggled to connect.

After we’d finished, I saw a pinprick of blood on the covers from where he’d dug his fingers into his palms so hard he’d broken the skin, seeking that sliver of wrongness to finish.

I didn’t let him see the tears in my eyes at how much that hurt or how destroyed I was that he hadn’t turned to me like he always had, finding salvation in my agony and screams.

Instead of being open and loving, we became closed off and uncertain.

And every day was worse than the last.

*

A week turned to a fortnight.

A fortnight turned to a month.

For the first time in our marriage, I didn’t look forward to sex with my delectable husband. It became an obligation. Boring. And it was a chore to open my legs while in missionary style and allow a few shallow thrusts before my seriously twisted but imprisoned monster came inside me.

If this was what it took to get pregnant…then I didn’t know how much longer I could stand it.

My thoughts turned nasty toward whatever child we would conceive. Yes, I wanted a family with Q. I wanted to share him with his children. But I also didn’t want to lose him in order to gain them.

I was selfish where my ma?tre was concerned. And if I couldn’t have him, then I didn’t want anything else.

Thoughts that Q might be sterile crossed my mind. After all, we had a very active sex life. Yes, I’d been on contraception injections for a long time, but that would’ve been out of my system by now…surely?