Black Wings & Stolen Things: Chapter 23


He’s a big fat, no-good, dirty liar.

Okay I’m over exaggerating the “big fat” part. The only thing that’s fat on Emeric Banes’s body is his dick and I am not ashamed to admit I’m quite a fan of that. But the rest of it, I wholeheartedly stand by.

Emeric told me it would only take a couple days to secure me a bodyguard and after that, I would be free to live my life outside of this gilded cage, but here we are, a week and a half later, and I’m still doing my Rapunzel impression.

After the two agreed upon days came and went, I said fuck it and tried to leave on my own. In hindsight, it was foolish of me to think a man like Emeric wouldn’t have a state-of-the-art security system attached to his hundred-million-dollar fortress looming in the clouds. I made it as far as the elevator doors when my grand escape was halted. A key card scanner on the wall next to the up and down arrow buttons mocked me and since that day, my irritation and anger has slowly but surely been growing. And after tonight, when I’d waited for him downstairs to come home until nearly two in the morning so I could demand he hold true to his promise, I think I’ve finally reached my boiling point.

After the turbulent night at The Irish Wife, Emeric’s seemed on edge. The few times he’s taken me out to dinner or to the café down the street for a latte, he’s been tense, but I still found myself enjoying his company. Sitting across from him while having a meal or our morning coffee feels… easy.

The same large number of guards that accompanied us to the meeting with Dad travel with us too. Have you ever ordered an iced vanilla latte with almond milk and a sprinkle of cinnamon while eight armed men are watching you and all the possible exits? I can tell you right now, it’s not an enjoyable or relaxing experience. I was raised with guards, but there were never this many on rotation at once, and I at least knew them to some degree. Emeric’s men are still strangers to me, and it only makes me miss Brayden more.

The irony that the only person from home I seem to miss is my dad’s head of security isn’t lost on me. I actually think it really puts into perspective just how broken my relationship with my family members truly was. I haven’t found myself longing for the comfort of my bedroom or the familiar faces of my family once.

On top of Emeric being on guard and tense when we leave the penthouse, he’s seemed off the last couple days. His mood seems to shift on a dime and there’s something about the storm brewing in his eyes that makes me believe there should be tornado sirens blaring. On multiple occasions behind the closed door of his office I heard him yell at people over the phone and yesterday morning, he got angry at the brunette named Liv who works with Anneli because she walked into his office without knocking.

Even with this change of behavior and him lashing out at other people, he hasn’t raised his voice once to me. The only change—if we can really call it that, seeing as he’s always had a certain vigor—is that the ruthlessness in which he’s fucked me the past couple nights. It’s hard, fast, and oh-so very deep. Last night when he’d finally decided to join me in bed, Emeric slipped between my thighs with a desperate kind of hunger and he pounded into me until I orgasmed so hard, I think I almost blacked out. When he’d followed suit close behind, coming inside me with a mouthwatering growl, he didn’t pull out. Just like that night after we’d first gotten married, he’d pulled me into his chest and within minutes, his ragged breathing had evened out.

For the second time since I became his wife, I fell asleep with his cock snug inside of me and once again, I was shocked by how comforting being filled by Emeric was.

When I woke up this morning—sore as hell and looking like he’d painted me with bruises—and all alone, my anger had reignited. I spent the day waiting for him to show and while I did, I got to know Anneli a little better. Turns out the accent I couldn’t place was Scandinavian and she’s worked for Emeric for nearly eight years. I also learned with that long tenure comes access to a key card. That was a nugget of information I tucked away while she told me about her childhood in Scandinavia.

My respect for the woman grew when I learned what she’d been through. She was brought to the States by a man promising her a job in modeling—see? I was right about the modeling thing. Turns out he, too, was a liar and for nearly a decade, she was forced into sex work. That changed when one of her repeat customers brought her to Emeric’s club and got a little too drunk and way too aggressive with her. Emeric’s men intervened, and she was brought before the big boss. Emeric offered her a job in the basement of Tartarus or to come work for him personally at his home. She wisely chose the latter and as they say, the rest is history.

I don’t know if we’ll ever be the best of friends, but I do think it will be nice having another person to talk to when Emeric is gone. And he’s gone a lot.

After Anneli and her two other girls, Liv and Maja, had left for the day, I’d taken up position on the giant sectional so I could know the second Emeric got home. Cerberus stayed at my side, curled up at my feet until midnight rolled around and he went and put himself to bed in the dog bed that’s in the upstairs sitting room. Exhausted myself, I forced myself to stay awake for another two hours before I gave up and got ready for bed.

I had been peacefully asleep until the bed shifted behind me a second ago. Eyes barely cracked open I find that the sky has just started to wake up and light pink and orange decorate the clouds we reside in. His hand settles on my hip at the same time his lips brush across my shoulder blade.

Emeric’s fingers gather the silken fabric of my nightie and he pulls it up until he has unrestricted access to my ass.

I mumble a sleepy sound of displeasure over the fact he’s woken me up. Blindly, I reach for his hand resting on my hip and capture it in mine.

“Shh…” he soothes in my ear, his naked chest pressing against my back. “It’s just me.”

“Who the hell else would it be?” I croak, forcing my eyes to remain shut. It’s too goddamn early. “Now, shoo and let me sleep.”

He chuckles as he brings our now gathered hands to my pussy. I’m mad at him—I remember that clearly—but the second he brushes his fingertips through me and begins to methodically and torturously circle my clit, my fight abandons me. Like a traitor.

Within a minute, he’s got me rocking my hips in rhythm with his movements. A gentle but still enjoyable orgasm washes through me. Yep, doesn’t matter how mad at this man I am, this will continue to be my favorite kind of way to wake up. The bastard.

When the head of his aforementioned fat-as-hell cock nudges my entrance, I’m instantly yanked out of my post-orgasm haze.

“No,” I tell him, still sounding drowsy. “No fucking. Not tonight—this morning—or whatever the fucking time is right now. You wrecked my poor pussy last night when you came at me like an animal. I’m still sore.”

“Oh, how you flatter me,” he hums in my ear as he increases the pressure at my opening. “It’s a good thing I don’t plan on fucking you.”

“It sure feels like that’s your plan, Banes.”

He kisses along my shoulder blade again and then to my cheekbone. “I just want to sleep,” he explains slowly, starting to push inside. My breath catches in a gasp as my sore muscles involuntarily clench around the thick invasion. It’s tender, but not bad enough that I want to shove him away. “I’m exhausted, Rionach, and it turns out I sleep best while I’m inside of you.”

His words instantly get added to the very niche list of things that shouldn’t be flattering or hot, but for some bizarre fucking reason they are.

I tighten around him again, forcing a sharp inhale of air from him.

“Behave,” he scolds. “Go back to sleep, love.”


It’s so very hard to remember I’m pissed at him when he says things like that while he’s inside of me.

Relaxing myself against him, I tell him on a long exhale, “Good night, Emeric.”


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