Hawthorne

Epilogue

Bloody--

Light and darkness. Heaven and hell.

Control flees from my body, forcing a choked grunt out of my lips as I come. My hips jerk a few more times before I finally still my movements. With the adrenaline slowly wearing off, achiness starts to spread through my muscles.

"Hot damn," she whispers and I chuckle, letting my body fall on top of hers.

"I fucking love you," I mumble to her hair with closed eyes.

"I lo--"

"NO!" Someone yells before the bedroom doors slam open.

What the--

"GET OUT!" I boom.

Hastily grabbing the sheets to cover Camilla, I stand and turn around, still sporting half-mast and not fucking caring who it is.

Twoewomen yelp, turning around while my brother, still with a panicked face widens his eyes. The butler, a new one Camilla hired right after we married stands awkwardly to the side.

"I tried to tell them not to come in," Edgar starts.

"And why the fuck were you able to open a locked door?" I growl.

They could have seen her. They probably fucking have.

"We've seen the marks," one of the girls whispers, turning her back to me.

Finally, remembering I am stark naked, I grab a blanket from the bottom of the bed and wrap it around my waist.

"What fucking marks?" I ask, confused.

"You fucking didn't," Camilla chimes in for the first time, her voice deadly calm.

I know this tone. The 'keep it together tone'. Looking at her, I see her head tilting up, dropping the sheet down a little bit and I hurry to recover her nipple. Fuck. I forgot to untie her.

"Finally," she huffs when I finally set her wrists free. 

With a sheepish smile, I kiss both of her wrists, hands and cheeks before giving her mouth a light smooch.

"I fucking told you-- No. I ordered you to stay out of my business," she hisses and all girls bow their heads down in shame.

"What the fuck is going on?" I exclaim. "Why are two men---one of each my own fucking brother---and two women barging into my bedroom while I am fu-- spending time with my wife?"

"We've seen the news..." The second girl trails off and I freeze.

Tension creeps up on my neck at the realisation. And while I commend them for worrying about their Queen, it makes me feel both angry and ashamed.

Things have been perfect ever since she said yes. Except for this. 

After that impromptu wedding request, an engagement party followed. Right after we got married I moved into the Palace, begrudgingly leaving my title to my brother. All of that time away was poured fucking torture and I got my revenge on it.

I indulged in her company, her body for as much as I could. I still do.

And because the bed, the privacy of our room is the only place where I have my Camilla, the true woman. My woman. I get wild sometimes. We get wild.

And she has had some crazy requests before. We got to know each other in the deepest ways possible. Both physically and emotionally. 

Everything I do is with her consent for both of our enjoyment. Still, I have left marks.