Page 14 of Obsessively Yours (Fae Kings of Eden #2)
14
TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD
Roman sat on the row behind Violet in the gallery at the pleasure house, watching her observe the couple on stage. She used to sit toward the back, but over the years had moved close enough to hear the wet sounds of the man’s tongue as he ravaged the writhing woman whose thighs wrapped around his head.
Normally, Roman drew the line at invading Violet’s intimate moments, but here, he didn’t have to deprive himself. There were people everywhere, watching, playing, performing, and Violet sat out in the open, enjoying every minute.
The first time she’d seen him there, her eyes had widened, and to his surprise and pleasure, she hadn’t left. Instead, she’d shot him a cheeky grin and continued to watch the show.
Roman hadn’t sat right behind her at first. He’d stayed in the back and observed her closely. He knew Violet’s tells when she saw something she liked. Her breath would hitch, and she’d squirm in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. It became too much, being that far away from her in that state, and the next time they were there, he’d sat directly behind her, neither saying a word to the other.
The woman on stage had her hands bound to the bedpost, and she yanked against the restraints as the man’s movements against her cunt sped up. He lapped at the woman’s center with fervor, the wet sounds of his tongue reaching into the audience. Violet’s hand fluttered to her neck and drifted down her breasts.
Some patrons rented out private viewing boxes with their partners to fuck while they watched, and Roman had fantasized about taking Violet against the glass more times than he could count.
Her breathing picked up when the woman on stage ground herself against the man’s face with a long, tortured moan. Violet’s hand slid to the top of her thigh and clutched at the material of her dress for dear life. He wanted her to push her skirt aside and let him watch as she finger fucked herself.
A lot of people pleasured themselves as they watched, but not Violet. His girl waited until she got home. Roman wondered if she liked to edge herself; if she refused to allow herself the release she desperately craved until she got home. He didn’t watch her make herself come. Seeing her come for the first time would be a gift she gave to him freely.
But he listened.
Gods , did he listen.
Hidden just outside of her bedroom door, he’d relish in her moans and wonder if she licked her fingers and rubbed her clit, or if she pushed her delicate fingers into her soaking pussy and fucked herself into a frenzy? Did she gush, or did she drip, waiting for him to lick her clean?
He wanted to feel her wet cunt choke his cock as she cried out for him. The tightness in his pants grew, and he worried he would spill just from the thought.
The woman performer’s screams rose, and Violet shifted restlessly in her seat. It snapped the last of Roman’s restraint. Leaning forward, he hovered his lips over her ear and broke their unspoken rule, murmuring, “Does Titus not eat your pussy well enough, princess? Is that why it’s your favorite part of the show?”
He knew Titus had touched nothing but her mouth. It worked out well for Roman, because as long as Violet stayed with Titus, he didn’t have to worry about killing anyone else for touching her body. For some reason, her boyfriend wouldn’t lay a finger on her. Roman knew because there wasn’t a single second Titus and Violet were in private without him there.
He'd assigned one of his most trusted warriors, Marissa, to tail Violet whenever Roman couldn’t. Marissa didn’t know the truth about his mating or his obsession with Violet; she thought Roman wanted protection on his mate’s defenseless sister.
Not that Violet couldn’t defend herself; Edgar had been teaching Violet self-defense for the last couple of years. Watching her disarm her father had Roman beaming with pride.
Once her shock wore off, Violet turned to him, their faces inches apart, and whispered, “Does Vivian not scream loud enough when you eat hers? Is that why it’s your favorite part?” A perfect brow ticked up in defiant challenge and he had to physically restrain himself from throwing her over his shoulder and spanking her ass raw. He loved it.
“I’ve missed that sharp tongue of yours, princess.” Leaning back a little, he rested his elbows on his knees. “I miss the days when we were friends, and you were crawling around in chicken shit.”
“I miss those days too,” Violet murmured. She paused before pivoting toward him fully. “You’re with Vivian now, and I’m with Titus.” Her hand waved between them. “All of that childhood infatuation and puppy love is in the past. I don’t see any reason why we can’t be friends.”
Hearing her say she didn’t love him anymore hit hard, but it didn’t matter. The way she looked at him, giving him the opportunity to be around her again without hiding, made him want to bellow out a victory cry.
He had two years left to devise a way out of his marriage to Vivian that didn’t involve killing her. Since he knew Violet wouldn’t agree to marry him and break the bond that way, the only other option he’d found was Vivian’s death. If killing her meant he could marry Violet, he would do it, but he’d rather find a way that wouldn’t upset his future wife. In the meantime, he’d take Violet in whatever way he could.
* * *
Violet sat across from Roman at the bakery with a giant piece of strawberry cake in front of her, laughing at the look of sheer horror on his face.
“I’m not eating that,” he protested.
She pointed to the bowl of lumpy cottage cheese and strawberries. “You agreed to try whatever I wanted you to if I came here with you.”
Roman ignored her and pointed to the flower crown on her head. “I haven’t seen you wear one of those in years.” His expression held a hint of fondness, and she chuckled lightly.
“I never take time to make them anymore. My closest neighbors have an eight-year-old son. Yesterday, when I stepped outside to leave, he came tromping up the stairs of my porch, holding this out like a grand prize.” She touched the crown, remembering how cute he’d looked. Roman studied her crown thoughtfully, drumming his fingers against the table. “It’s one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me,” she stated. Other than the mysterious gifts that occasionally appear in my room.
One day Violet would gather the nerve to ask Roman about them, but their rekindled friendship was new, and she didn’t want to ruin it.
It’d been two weeks since they’d decided to try being friends again. Friends . If someone told teenage Violet being platonic friends with Roman Covington made her happy, she’d laugh in their face… and probably cry a little too.
But it’s true. Violet did enjoy being friends with Roman again. She loved Titus and wanted to marry him someday, and she thought he wanted to marry her too. When they’d first started dating, Titus had been honest. He didn’t want to have sex until after they married.
The sentiment was unusual for fae, practically non-existent, but she respected his choices. Every time they kissed, he stopped before it went too far and told her he couldn’t wait until he could have her. That meant he planned on marrying her, right? They hadn’t talked about it, but they’d been officially dating for almost a year.
Which reminded her… “How is the wedding planning going? Only five more months and you’ll be a married man.” Roman looked away and tried not to laugh but lost the battle. “What’s so funny?” Violet demanded.
His face brightened with amusement. “Our twenty-second birthdays are in three months, not five.”
Violet held up her fingers and silently counted. Damn . “Just answer the question.” She grabbed Roman’s spoon, dipped it into his bowl, and held it out for him to grab.
He reared back and pushed her hand away. “We aren’t getting married next year,” he said, shocking the hell out of her.
“Did you move the wedding up?” She held out the spoon again, and he glared at it.
“I’m not eating that, and we agreed to push the wedding back a year.”
Violet’s brows shot skyward. “And they let you? Why would you want to?” Traditionally, royals married their mates on their twenty-second birthday, whether by the gods’ decree or a kingdom tradition, Violet didn’t know.
“What’s the rush?” He plucked the spoon out of Violet’s hand and stuck it in the bowl. “Most non-royal fae don’t get married until they’re in their mid to late twenties. As long as I’m married at some point, it shouldn’t matter.”
Violet took a long drink of her juice and licked the remnants from her lips. “Will they smite you for your defiance?”
Something flashed in Roman’s eyes, and he casually leaned back in his chair, looking for all the world like a king lounging on his throne. “I guess we’ll see.”