Page 45 of Merciless Silence

Rosalind's hand tightened around my length, her fingers not meeting each other across my girth.

I caught her wrist. My fingers worked to unfurl hers. "No."

Her brow drew together. "Why not?"

Because I remembered blood on white sheets. Because I remembered her whimper of pain. Because no matter how wet she'd been around my fingers, I wasn't putting my cock inside her again until I knew she could take me without pain.

"Because I said no. If you said no to me, would it be fine if I started berating you and asking you for a reason? No means no."

Her brows drew as she made ready to argue. My wife apparently liked being ordered around right up until she was given an order she didn't like. "Even if I say please?"

Fuck.

"Please, Gunnar." Rosalind shifted closer, fingers still wrapped around my cock. "You don't have to put it all inside. Just the tip."

My cock twitched. Traitor.

I should've been offended by the blatant manipulation. Instead, I was wondering how much begging I could withstand before every functioning cell in my brain migrated south.

"Please."

Not much, apparently.

"Let me just have a little taste." And with that, she disappeared beneath the covers.

I could've caught her. I was fast. But I was also tired from denying myself. I wanted her hands on me. Her mouth. Maybe I could put just the tip in and⁠—

My cellphone screeched from my pants pocket on the floor.

"Ignore it," my wife commanded as she got both hands around my cock.

But it was a specific ringtone. The Imperial March from Empire Strikes Back. "It's Vidar."

My wife's tongue tentatively licked at the tip of my cock.

"Fuuuuck!"

Darth Vader's death march blared again. I groaned. Likely the same painful cry when Vader chopped off Luke's hand.