My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(69)

She gurgled.

“Do you like it?”

She nodded, her cheeks tear-stained, her skin flushed.

“Let’s see if you’re telling the truth.”

I brought my hand between her legs and slid it past her thong, sinking my finger into her tight pussy. She was so wet, I could shove a hammer into her and she wouldn’t even feel it.

My dick had already hardened again, and it hadn’t even been a minute.

A smirk found my lips. “You’d let me do anything I want to you. Wouldn’t you, Shortbread?”

She shrugged, her mouth still full of my cum.

“Can I fuck you in the ass?”

A nod.

“Can I fuck your cunt and finger you at the same time?”

An eager nod.

I wasn’t going to, but it was nice to know.

I lifted a brow. “Can my friends join us?”

This was a trick question, because there was only one answer—hell to the goddamn no.

But Dallas nodded, still, a smile spreading across her face, making more of my cum drip down her chin.

I fingered the curve of her jaw, closing her mouth. “Wrong answer. Now swallow everything nice and good, and open your mouth when it’s clean.”

She swallowed a few times. Opened her mouth. Her tongue was pink. Squeaky clean.

As I admired the view, all I could think was that she’d answered yes to fucking Oliver and Zach.

I ripped myself off her, tucking my dick back into my briefs and buckling up. “Congratulations. If you wanted my attention, you got it. I’ll move back into the house, if only to make sure it remains standing and survives you.”

“All I heard was that you missed me,” she cooed, spreading her limbs on my bed lazily.

“You need to get your ears checked.”

“You need to get your heart healed.”

“I like it just the way it is.” I opened the door to my bedroom, signaling the end of our conversation. “Covered in ice and beating only for one purpose—my revenge.”

I stepped past the threshold. And what did you know? Abby waited outside. In fact, she had eavesdropped, falling to my feet in a heap of limbs.

She righted herself in a bout of panic and embarrassment, still wearing Dallas’s pink chiffon dress.

“Um, hi, Rom. It’s been a while.”

“That’s because I actively avoid you.”

Abby pouted, glaring at me through false eyelashes. “I’m here to collect my dress.”

“Did you think it was going to pour into your ear through my bedroom door?”

She blushed, huffed, and parked a hand on her waist. “Am I getting my dress back or not?”

“Not before you give me my wife’s dress back.”

Said wife remained behind my shoulder, tucked in my bed beneath my covers, cringing at the way I handled the entire situation.

Served her right. I refused to touch the fact that I had a woman in my bed for the first time since Morgan with a ten-foot pole. Too much to unpack.

With a growl, Abby began stripping from the pink number. She hadn’t worn a bra, thus her tits now dangled dangerously close to my chest.

I resisted the urge to vomit on them.

“There.” She flung her arms sideways. The dress pooled around her well-heeled ankles. “Happy now?”

“Not in the slightest. Wait here.” I turned, retrieved the two pieces of ruined dress from the floor by my window, and hurled them her way. “Send my regards to Licht.”

She shrieked. “Wait, the dress is torn.”

“So quick-witted.”

Abby stomped. “You bastard.”

I slammed the door in her face.





Romeo moved his things back the same day of my party.

Right after he kicked everyone out and called his bi-weekly cleaning service to “bleach the entire house, walls and ceiling included.”

I spied from my bedroom window as an army of people on his payroll wheeled his suitcases back inside. I hugged my arms, thinking about what had happened between us just hours ago.

When Romeo came in my mouth, I’d saved some of his semen under my tongue. I read somewhere that sperm could still survive in the mouth, provided it remained in its gel-like form.

It did.

When I dashed into my room to spit it into a mouthwash cup, I figured I could try to get pregnant.

But leaning against my sink, observing the white thing swimming in the small cup, something prevented me from doing it.

My morals, maybe.

I still had them, though my husband had lost his somewhere along the way.

It was sperm-stealing.

It was wrong.

And I, unfortunately, had boundaries I refused to cross.

Sure, I had no obligation to take the ethical highway. Not after everything Romeo had put me through. He’d deceived me in so many ways, so it was only fair I deceived him back.

Still, my pride wouldn’t let me conceive this way.

With spat-out semen. In a bathroom. Like a thief.

No. Romeo’s downfall would be of his own making.

I intended to break him.

The cracks were already apparent, imprinted everywhere on his behavior.

He wanted me. I knew he did.

Even if it was the last thing he needed.

As I watched my beautiful, awful husband weave through the garden, stone-faced, his phone pressed to his ear, undoubtedly discussing something work-related, I wondered what bringing him to full submission would feel like.