The Devious Husband: Sierra and Xavier’s Story (The Windsors)
Chapter 32

“I took care of it,” I tell Elijah as I pull up in front of my house, my clothes and hands stained with blood that isn’t mine, my mind numb.

“You made a mess,” he complains, the sounds of keystrokes in the background telling me he’s already dealing with the aftermath. “Couldn’t you have handled matters in a cleaner way?”

I walk into my house, weary to the bone. Images of everything that transpired keep rushing through my head, and I almost wish I could go back for another round, that I hadn’t permanently put an end to that asshole’s suffering.

“I didn’t have the patience for it.” I’ve yet to tell Elijah what exactly happened, and it’s best he never replaces out. “You would’ve been a lot more brutal.”

“I wouldn’t have left evidence everywhere,” he retorts. “This is going to require one hell of a cleanup crew.”

“I don’t care, Elijah. It was worth it, trust me.”

I pause when I notice Sierra standing in the doorway to our dressing room, pure horror written all over her face as she takes in the blood I’m drenched in. “I need to go,” I tell Elijah, before ending the call.

Sierra takes a step toward me, but I walk past her and into the bathroom, my stomach turning. Why is she still awake at four in the morning? Fuck. She was never supposed to see me like this. My sweet wife was never supposed to replace out that I’m not just the businessman she thinks I am, but there’s no way of undoing what she just saw.

I stand underneath the shower until the water finally runs clear and try my best to scrub off every last drop of blood, but there’s no washing away the darkness of my soul. I knew I wasn’t good enough for her, that she was too pure for me, too innocent, and for years, that knowledge was sufficient to keep me away from her. When did that change? When did I become so selfish that I pulled someone like her into the shadows?

I’m coated in self-loathing as I walk back into our dressing room wearing nothing but a towel, and Sierra tightens her grip on the first aid kit she’s holding. “Are you hurt?” she asks, her voice soft.

I wish I were. At least then, it wouldn’t have been so obvious that the blood on my clothes wasn’t mine. “No.”

She steps forward and kneels in front of me, her eyes zeroing in on my bruised knuckles. “Go to bed, Sierra,” I tell her when she reaches for my hand. “I’m not myself tonight. You shouldn’t be around me right now.”

I don’t have it in me to pretend tonight. I’m tired, broken, and desperate for just a fraction of her affection. I’d lose myself in her if I could, even if it’s only for a few moments.

“No,” she says as she begins to disinfect and bandage my knuckles. “I’m your wife, Xavier. Let me help you.”

I thread my hand through her hair and stare at her, taking in her angelic beauty, her gorgeous emerald eyes. She’s a fucking vision, and I’m not even remotely worthy of her. I’d forgotten, over the years. Our rivalry allowed me to escape my reality, gave me purpose, pushed me to be better — but for what? At the end of the day, I’m still a thug dressed up in expensive suits, and she’s damn near royalty.

I wish I could steal away some of her light, until we’re both cast in shadows, until we’re the same, she and I. Would she finally really see me then? My wife ignores my words and reaches for my other hand, disinfecting that too. “You never fucking listen, do you?” I murmur.

She looks up with those bright deviant eyes of hers, and pure need rushes through me, my thoughts becoming hazy. “Just let me help you,” she repeats, her voice soft. “Please, Xavier.”

“You want to help?” I whisper, cupping her face, my thumb brushing over her lips. “Then put your mouth to good use. Make me forget about everything but you.”

She tenses, almost like she’s only just become aware how close her face is to my cock, and how the mere sight of her affects me. A storm brews in her eyes as she stares up at me, and I begin to wonder, will what she saw tonight forever change the way she looks at me? I suppose I deserve it for pretending to be a better man than I am, for tricking her into believing she’d married someone honorable. “Just go,” I tell her as I rub my face, my heart aching. “Get out. I won’t warn you again.”

I feel her gaze on me, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she reaches for my towel and yanks it off, startling me as her soft, trembling hand wraps around my cock. I groan and ball my hand in her hair. “Which is it?” she asks, her voice tinged with anger, even as she licks her lips, her eyes taking in my cock with a hint of intimidation. “Do you want me to get out?” she asks, before leaning in and dragging her tongue up from the base, drawing a needy moan from my throat. “Or do you want me to put my mouth to good use?”

I lean back against the drawers behind me, my eyes on her while hers roam over my body appreciatively. Our eyes lock when she opens her mouth and puts the tip of my cock on her tongue, before sucking down on it and exploring the sensitive ridges. She hums, the vibration fucking driving me crazy as she takes me deeper.

“Fuck,” I groan, rocking my hips involuntarily. “Sierra,” I groan, my tone meant to be a warning instead of the plea it clearly is.

She pulls back a little, letting me slip out of her mouth with a pop. “Use me,” she says, her eyes burning with longing. My wife looks at me like she understands how desperately I need an escape tonight, like she wants to be the one I turn to, and I almost let myself believe it. “Show me how you like it.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Kitten,” I warn her, even as I grab my cock and pull her head closer, my body and mind at odds.

“I do,” she promises, when she shouldn’t possibly. She has no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about having her on her knees for me, how desperately I need this, need her.

I clench my jaws for a moment, and then I nod against better judgement. “Open your mouth.”

My precious wife does as she’s told, and I look into her eager eyes as I slowly push in, until she recoils a little, only to do it all over again, slowly fucking her face. She sucks down on me, her tongue fucking perfection as my thrusts rapidly becoming more uncontrolled, faster, harder, deeper.

“That’s my girl,” I groan, my residual anger draining away as I focus on nothing but her. “You’re sucking your husband’s cock perfectly, Sierra.”

I let myself live this fantasy in which she truly wants me for who I am, desires me despite the blood I’ve spilled. I delude myself into thinking I’m worthy of her affection, her devotion. “Such a good fucking girl,” I murmur as she begins to suck harder, her tongue teasing me endlessly.

All of my thoughts fade away, until there’s nothing but her and how fucking amazing she’s making me feel. Sierra is the only one in this world that can make me forget about my worst nightmares. My moans fill up the room as I begin to lose control, and she moans on my cock like I’m the one giving her pleasure.

“Fuck,” I grunt, lightheaded. “Sierra, baby, I can’t take much more…fuck.”

I pull out, but she instantly bends forward, our eyes locking. “No. Give it to me,” she demands, before taking me back into her mouth as deeply as she can.

I moan as I push as far down her throat as possible without making her gag, only to pull back almost all the way. “You’re such a good wife,” I whisper, knowing full well we’re on the cusp of everything we’ve got unraveling. She hums as I set a rhythm that keeps me on the edge, trying to savor this moment with her.

I can’t help but feel like this is the only time I’ll ever get to experience this with her, and she watches me as every last shred of composure melts away. “Sierra,” I groan as I come deep in her throat, and she swallows it all down like the good girl she is.

She’s panting when I pull out of her mouth, her eyes dark with desire. “Face that way,” I order, pointing toward the full-length mirror on the wall. “On your hands and knees.”

She hesitates for a split second before complying, and I smile when she positions herself the way I told her to. “Good girl,” I murmur as I move behind her and slowly push the t-shirt she’s wearing up. She has no idea what it does to me to see her in my clothes. She thinks she’s hiding more of her body that way, but all it does is turn me on. Sierra gasps when my hands begin to caress her ass, kneading, squeezing, before I grip the straps of her panties and pull them down her thighs, leaving them just above her knees. I chuckle when I notice how wet she is, how swollen and sexy her pussy looks. “All of this, just from sucking my cock?”

I watch her face flush in the mirror and smirk, fucking ecstatic that this is all for me, that she’s mine. “Such a perfect, pretty pussy,” I whisper, before leaning in and dragging my tongue right down it, needing a taste. She moans as I lap at her clit, and her hips begin to move as she gives in to desire. “Xavier,” she begs as I toy with her, taking my time to tease her and never quite giving her what she wants. She sounds desperate — for me. “Oh god,” she moans when I suck down on her clit hard, and just like that, she comes all over my tongue, her legs shaking.

I grin at her when her eyes meet mine in the mirror, desire ruling my every thought. I wish she’d always look at me that way, like there’s no one but me, like I’m all she cares about. Sierra gasps when I push my cock against her pussy and drag it back and forth a few times, before pushing in just slightly.

She tenses, and I look up in the mirror at her wide eyes. Realization dawns, and I pull away. What the fuck was I just about to do to my wife? She thinks I don’t know, but I’m well aware she’s still a virgin. She’s been waiting for her husband her whole life, and here I am, almost about to fuck her on the goddamn floor like some kind of fucking animal.

“Xavier?” she whispers, her voice tinged with confusion as I pull away and grab a pair of sweats, getting dressed in a rush. My stomach turns at the thought of how selfish I continue to be with her, and it sickens me.

Sierra turns and kneels on the floor, facing me with those innocent eyes of hers. I take a long hard look at her and walk away, before I do something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.