A Vow Of Hate

by James, Lylah

  Advancing toward her, I slammed the whiskey bottle onto the nearest coffee table. I carelessly tugged on my tie, sliding it from my neck, and threw it somewhere on the floor. I watched as Julianna unlaced her bodice from the back, her hands clumsy and slow. Once her dress had come loose, she lowered the top, her breasts spilling out.

  The moment the cool air touched her bare skin, she flinched and her fingers clenched around her dress, holding it to her stomach. Gooseflesh peppered her skin and I could see her tight nipples through her thin bra.

  “Drop the dress, Julianna,” I said, my voice so deep and thick – I barely even recognized it.

  Her chest heaved with a shuddering breath, before doing as she was told.

  Her dress pooled at her bare feet until she was standing in front of me in only her silk bra and panties.

  Something twisted in my gut and my dick twitched in my slacks, hardening at the sight of my wife, standing in front of me – offering herself to me.

  Her surrender.

  Her devotion.

  Her undoing.

  Fuck.

  Julianna Spencer was so goddamn maddening.

  This was twisted and utterly insane. Our whole relationship was toxic and this moment itself was proof of it.

  I wanted this, even though I hated her.

  Julianna needed this, even though she despised me.

  I didn’t know what I expected when I came to her room, but it was definitely not me being aroused by the simple sight of her bare skin.

  Her slender shoulders caved in before she took a deep breath and straightened. “I need the lights off.”

  I pointed at the lavish chair beside her bed, while unbuttoning my cuff links. “Sit down, Julianna. Discard the rest of your virtue and show me how you touch yourself.”

  “What?” she breathed.

  “How do you touch yourself at night, wife?” I leaned back against the table, crossing my ankles. “Show me.”

  I watched as Julianna swallowed, watched as she debated with herself and then finally surrendered to my demands. She limped toward the chair and took a seat.

  I arched an eyebrow as I unbuttoned my black dress shirt. Her gaze lingered over my exposed skin before she slowly dragged down her panties and dropped the thin fabric beside her feet. Her bra soon followed until she was naked to my eyes, except for the masquerade mask.

  Her breasts were heavy and swollen, her nipples puckering tight in the cold air. Or was it anticipation?

  Her hand inched between her thighs and she quivered. I was already rock hard, my dick pushing against my slacks in a very obvious manner. Her gaze darted there for a second before she gasped and looked away.

  My lips curled as her whole body flushed. “Hook your left knee over the armrest and spread yourself for me, wife. I want you to delve into your deepest desires and show me the woman behind the prim and proper façade, the expensive gowns and jewelleries.”

  Her grey eyes flared. “Why? Why can’t you just–”

  “I will hurt you,” I rasped. I didn’t want to have to touch her, in the way she needed to be caressed and devoured before I took her. To make this more intimate than it already was.

  Me fucking her would just be… mechanical. Detached from any type of romance or intimacy. It was only my duty as her husband. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  “Maybe I want it,” she shot back, nudging her chin up like a haughty princess.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Julianna.”

  Julianna slowly brought her leg up, hooking her left knee over the armrest, just like I had ordered her to do. So vulnerable – there was beauty in surrender and it looked decadently sinful on Julianna Spencer.

  In this position, spread wide open, I could see the sheen of wetness over her slit.

  “Pain is subjective,” she whispered.

  “I’m doing you a favor, wife. Accept it or leave it – but know this, I won’t be gentle with you. I will hurt you.”

  Her fingers delved between her thighs, parting her folds. Her breath came as a sharp inhale and her legs twitched before tensing. I watched as her thumb circled her hardened nub, pinching and rolling it between her fingers.

  Her arousal dripped onto the white cushion of the chair, her wetness sliding between the cleft of her ass.

  “What do you think about when you touch yourself at night?” I asked, my voice gritty and rough to my own ears.

  “You,” she breathed. Julianna slid a single digit inside her core; her back arched and her lips parted with a tiniest whimper.

  Goddamn it.

  She was pink and wet, clenching and inviting.

  Julianna Spencer wasn’t only a good actress, a pretty manipulator and dubious liar – but she was also a tantalizing seductress – an intriguing combination of innocence and lust.

  I should have been smarter than my body’s urges. I should have been more in control of my impulses – but my cock throbbed and I was just a goner.

  My fists clenched as she fingered herself, her moans spilling past her red lips. The musky scent of her arousal was now heavy in the room and I practically ripped my shirt off my body. Her gaze lingered on my chest and I watched as her hips started to move in rhythm with her finger, chasing her release.

  Her back bowed and she threw her head back, on the precipice of orgasm. “Stop,” I hissed.

  She whimpered, her body tensing. “No,” she mewled, her thumb circling her clit with frantic need, desperate for a release. “Please.”

  I surged forward, the table screeching back, and I heard the whiskey bottle crashing onto the floor. But I didn’t care.

  Julianna yelped when my arm curled around her waist, pulling her up. Her hands slammed into my chest in surprise, her wet fingers splaying over my pecs. Smearing my bare skin with her sweet fucking juices.

  I dumped Julianna on the bed and she bounced with a gasp. She swallowed hard and looked at me with those grey eyes I loathed so much. Her hands came up and she covered her chest, as if to hide her nakedness from me.

  So vulnerable, I could easily break her.

  Her whole body trembled as she stayed on her back, completely bare to me except for the black lace mask.

  “Killian–”

  My jaw clenched at the sound of my name on her tongue. “Turn around. On your hands and knees,” I snapped. Angry at her ugly deception. Furious at myself for feeling something at the sight of her naked and flushed body, needy and so goddamn… beautiful, like the temptress she was. It wasn’t fair that Julianna had such power over my thoughts, my heart and now my dick.

  “Now,” I clipped, my voice hoarse. Flustered, she scrambled to her hands and knees. She was still somewhat in a needy trance after I had denied her the orgasm she had been so desperately chasing.

  I didn’t want to look at Julianna when I was fucking her, didn’t want to look in the eyes that haunted me.

  I was merely doing my husbandly duty. There would be no pleasure from this.

  Not for her.

  Not for me.

  Our intimacy started and ended with this. A simple fuck.

  Once she was on her knees on the edge of the bed, and against my own accord, I took a single second to appreciate the elegant curve of her back and her round ass.

  With a growl, I unzipped myself and pushed down my pants, freeing my hardened length. I fisted myself, squeezing my erection from the tip to the base.

  I lowered my body atop of hers, rubbing my shaft against her wet folds. Her back arched and I curled an arm around her hips, holding her still before I pushed inside – with one forceful thrust, I wedged myself deep inside her. I wasn’t gentle, as I had promised, but she took all of me, stretched tight around my thick erection.

  Julianna let out a choked cry and her body spasmed, her pussy tightening around my dick, practically strangling it.

  “Fuck,” I hissed. She was as tight as a fist and her core pulsated around my length.

  My heart thudded.

  Her fingers c
lawed at the bedsheets, her back arching against my groin. “Killian,” she gasped, almost in pain.

  “I told you,” my chest rattled with a harsh growl, “I won’t be gentle. I will hurt you. Wreck you. Possess you.”

  “Shut up and fuck me,” Julianna hissed.

  My lips curled, feeling both pleased and cruel. “Gladly, Beasty.”

  I pulled out, almost completely – leaving only the tip inside her before slamming back into her tight channel. Her body trembled, gooseflesh peppering her back and she whimpered.

  I liked the sounds she made. Like she was fighting pain and pleasure, craving both – needing both.

  I pumped into her again, each thrust harder and deeper than the one before. I quickly found my stride and she rocked her hips back to meet mine. The wet sounds of our bodies slamming together filled the room, echoing against the walls.

  She pressed her face into the mattress, muffling her needy whimpers and moans of pleasure. A groan vibrated from my chest as I plunged inside again, feeling the way she clenched around me. My balls tightened and I knew I was close.

  Her wetness, hot and sticky, dripped between our joined bodies.

  With a grunt, I drove into her hard and stayed rooted there, the tip of my hardness brushing against her womb. The muscles in my stomach and thighs tightened as I came, my seed pouring into her.

  My heart pounded in my ears, loudly. I shuddered as my orgasm rattled through my body. Julianna quivered under me, a moan spilling from her lips. Her body tightened and there was a rush of wetness between us as she found her own release.

  I pulled out and she gasped, almost pained. As the fog of rage and pleasure dissipated, my stomach twisted and rolled as I realized what I had just done. Bile tasted acidic on my tongue and I fought the urge to retch.

  I just fucked my wife.

  After vowing to never touch another woman after Gracelynn.

  My gaze quickly darted to the juncture of her thighs and my heart thudded at the sight of my seed spilling out of her and…

  What the hell?

  …blood?

  My brows furrowed. Julianna collapsed onto the bed. There was blood, coating the inside of her pale thighs and on the white linen underneath her.

  “Julianna,” I rasped, my voice gruff and confused. The room swayed under my feet.

  She rolled over and dragged the bedsheet over her body, shaking. “I – you… Are we done?”

  I stumbled back, suddenly feeling sick. My blood pounded in my ears and my vision blurred. My throat became dry and when I tried to breathe, my lungs tightened, fighting against my desperate need to inhale.

  “Killian?” Her soft voice sounded far away. Julianna sat up, wincing, but she reached out for me.

  I stumbled back, knocking into the chair before I rushed into her adjoined bathroom, slamming the door closed behind me.

  Frantic, I opened the tap and splashed water on my face. The pressure on my chest grew heavier as I stared at the man in the reflection, barely recognizing him.

  My eyes darted to my semi-hard length, stained with blood, and I flinched. What have I done?

  She was a virgin. Had been.

  Like me.

  Goddamn it.

  All this time… I thought…

  FUCK!

  I couldn’t think straight. For the longest time, I saved myself for the day I’d meet the woman I loved. I was willing to wait for Gracelynn – for our wedding night – she wanted it to be special and so did I.

  After she died, I vowed that I would never touch another woman – not in the way I touched Gracelynn.

  Except, my father had told me that I needed to marry, needed an heir. So, I agreed. It would be a job – a husbandly duty – nothing more. I wasn’t going to make love to my wife. It would be a simple, mechanical fuck.

  I was a goddamn virgin until tonight.

  I had fucked Julianna thinking she was already spoiled – not a virgin – that another man had already broke her in. Made the job easy for me. It would have made this less intimate, less meaningful. For both of us.

  Jesus Christ!

  Guilt gnawed at me.

  I remembered the way her body had tensed underneath mine.

  Her pained whimper.

  Her clawing at the bedsheet.

  I had hurt her.

  In ways I never should have.

  But I was so goddamn angry. Why didn’t she tell me? After all those insults I had thrown at her, why did she let me believe that she had already been with another man?

  This whole marriage was in shambles and tonight was just more proof of that.

  I had been honest with Julianna from the beginning – with my hatred and my rage, my vows. I never once made false promises or gave her fake hope. But she walked into this marriage with lies and deceit.

  I zipped up my slacks and stalked out of the bathroom. Julianna was pulling the bloodied linens off the bed, dressed in a navy blue, silk robe. She spun around at the sound of me coming out of the bathroom. The masquerade mask was gone, but her black veil was once again pinned up in its place, hiding her face from me.

  She always hid behind that black fucking veil. I wanted to rip it off her face and expose her truth to the world.

  That she was a deceitful woman.

  And that three years ago, she killed my heart. Oh, how I loathed her for it.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I said bitterly.

  Her hand fluttered to her chest and she swallowed. “You already believed that I wasn’t a virgin and I didn’t find any reason to correct you.”

  “Stop. Playing. The. Martyr.” I advanced toward her and she stumbled back. Her legs were weak and her limp was more pronounced after our… recent activities.

  “I’m not,” she snapped. “You always believed the worst of me.”

  “Because you allowed me to believe that with your goddamn lies!”

  Her eyes flared up, in dread. “What lies?” she sputtered.

  “What do you hide behind your veil, Beasty?” I grinned, with every bit of malice I felt in my bones. “If this is your atonement, then let me tell you – you will never find salvation.”

  I surged forward, pushing her back into the wall. Julianna cried out, moving her head to the side, as if to dodge my intention. My fingers curled around her veil and I ripped it off her face.

  My heart thudded.

  The blood pumping through my veins grew cold.

  Time slowed.

  My eyes landed on the unmarred, right side of her face. Her skin was soft and flawless, without an inch of imperfection. Her cheek was round; her jaw delicate.

  Beautiful.

  My breath stuttered.

  Familiar.

  Julianna’s grey eyes widened in horror and she gasped, quickly turning her face – so I was staring at the scars on the left side of her face. She was almost unrecognizable this way.

  But it was too late.

  I had already seen what she had been trying to hide for so long.

  I pushed away from her, as if I had been burned by her touch – by the sight of her face – and I stumbled back. My throat closed and I tried to breathe, but I couldn’t. As I stared at the ghost in front of me.

  A single tear slid down her scarred cheek. She let out a tortured whimper, her hand slamming over her mouth to muffle the sound.

  My legs weakened, and I dropped to my knees.

  “Gracelynn.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE PAST

  Julianna

  “Stay calm,” he rasped, grasping my hand in his and bringing it up to Coal’s muzzle. “He can smell you on me.”

  The stallion snorted, but otherwise stayed still. His black coat was soft and smooth under my fingertips. “Do horses remember our scent?”

  He kept his hand curled around mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. His gentle caress sent a shiver down my body and my toes tingled. The slight callouses on his finger pads felt rough against my skin, but I liked it. I liked how wa
rm he was.

  And his manly scent – a unique spicy and earthy smell, with a mix of his aftershave and expensive cologne.

  The fact that I have never been in the presence of a man, except my father – let alone, this close to another man, sent a thrill of excitement down my spine.

  It was wrong.

  But the idea of indulging in something so forbidden was quite exhilarating.

  And especially with a man like him.

  Killian Spencer.

  His chest pressed into my back, his deep voice sliding over my skin like a soft caress. “Horses have a much better sense of smell than us humans. They aren’t as good at scent recognition as a dog, but they are able to identify predators, other horses and their owners by their voices and smell.”

  He dragged my hand over to the stallion’s shoulder, making sure our touch was gentle and slow, so not to frighten the horse. “Coal has been spending a lot of time with me for the last two weeks. I’m his only human interaction. He’s practically used to my appearance, voice and smell now. And because he’s such a wild horse, he doesn’t play nice with other humans. But Coal can smell me on you, so let’s see if he’ll be more accepting today.”

  My body tensed. “Am I an experiment for him to practice being nice with other humans?”

  Killian chuckled, the deep timbre of his laugh vibrating through my body. My stomach fluttered. His laugh was smooth and warm. Decadent and addictive. There was something about the way it made me feel. “Basically.”

  “So, there’s a possibility of him kicking me in the stomach or stomping on me?”

  “I would say so,” he said.

  Fear slithered through me and I stumbled back. “Oh, no. Nope. Get it away from me. Now!”

  Killian released my hand, only to grasp me by the waist, holding me against him. “Shh, slow down.” His fingers curled around my hips and he stopped my frantic struggling with a firm hold.

  His warm breath whispered along the back of my neck. “I got you and I won’t let Coal hurt you.”

  “You just said–”

  “I was joking.”

  I hissed through my clenched teeth. “That wasn’t a nice joke!”

  His thumb brushed over the curve of my hips, moving in circles, as if to soothe me. And it did. Shockingly. His touch had such an effect on me that it left me more confused than ever. “I can see that now. My apologies,” Killian said, his voice softening to a low resonance. “I got you.”