Arriving at the airport relaxed him a little. 

Not that he was tense. 

Hide-outs didn’t faze him and this was no different. He’d done worse, seen worse, lived through worse. It was just another day in his world. The very last day. After that, he’d vanish into oblivion. There was no redemption for him after this.

After all that had happened, he wanted her. He wanted to keep her—for the time being—regardless of what it would do to him and the hourly struggle he would endure. The second he’d set eyes on her and John two nights ago, this was the path he’d chosen. 

It was inevitable for a man like him. 

Her strength, her tears…everything about her screamed for it to end, and it will. That blind faith, tolerance for his forgiveness, and stupid belief she could win him back latched onto the obsessions inside him and made him care.

He didn’t want to fucking care. 

About anyone anymore. 

It hurt too damn much. 

He walked into the aircraft's cabin, the smell of leather hitting his nose, shifting his mind to what he knew about that place, about the night she’d spent here with John.

He sucked in a breath. She belonged to him tonight. And that complicated his existence a shit ton.

 

*********

 

​

Roman heard her before he saw her. The gentle breathing of determination sneaking on silent feet. His muscles locked. He’d deliberately kept his distance for the last few days, taking his issues out on finding Stefano. 

He was exhausted. Not just physically but mentally, too. Watching Marlena the last few days from afar had dragged him back to a time when things were perfect. It reminded him of how he was before the catastrophe and showed him just how much things had changed. 

He wasn’t the same as he was anymore.

He was a man who’d spent the last seventy-two hours obsessing over which choice was the lesser of two evils: keep her and destroy himself, or fuck her one last time and destroy whatever was left inside her for him. 

 

For years, he’d been adrift. He’d been forgotten. For seven long years, he had no one to call his own, no home, no love. No one knew his true name (apart from Stefano). No one knew who he was anymore—including himself. He was the epitome of no one and nothing. 

 

Christ. 

 

She has been standing quietly outside the entire time? Goosebumps snarled over his flesh

The determined footstep came again, smashing his stampeding thoughts into a singular one. Her. 

He stopped breathing. 

Stepping into the cabin, Marlena moved with a white coat around her.

He watched her clenched fists when she stepped in. She had obeyed his instruction and used the black silk blindfold he had left for her outside.

Roman knew that trait.

She was nervous.

A goddess.

“John?”

Every part of him stiffened. 

 

Fuck. 

 

She looked as exhausted as he felt, but God, she was still so fucking beautiful, so completely breathtaking. He leaned against the wall in the shadows, wanting a few seconds to look at her. 

Her blond hair was down and flowing with the light breeze that cascaded through the aircraft door. She wore a white-colored dress that hit just above her knees, with matching heels. He watched her with a predatory regard as she stopped in the middle of the room looking for John. She received his note, and she did as he instructed and wore the black blindfold he had left for her outside. That made him hard.

 

Her heavy cold breaths teased him, her chest rising with each desperate inhale. It was snowing. He came closer, so close that he could smell her, he wanted to inhale her as a whole. He pulled the ends, fastening the blindfold she had put on upon his written instruction, securely. He ran his hands up her arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Wanting to feel her in every possible way. “John? What is going on? Why did you ask me to come here tonight?”

 

It took every ounce of restraint inside of him right now to not talk to her. Every fiber of his being raged to touch her. For the first time in his life, Roman wasn’t able to speak. Speaking would break the rule he made for himself. He stood there for a few minutes lost in his thoughts. Her white coat was open, slightly unbuttoned, faintly exposing her breasts. The soft flicker of light from the emergency airpost lights danced off her creamy smooth skin. She was breathtaking. 

In all his life, he had never seen anything so fucking beautiful before. And he knew right then and there. 

He was undone. 

 

He slowly leaned forward, never taking his eyes off of her. With one swift movement, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward him. She came effortlessly, breathless and dazed. Caught off guard by the turn of events. 

How did she get even more beautiful over the years? His chest warmed until he was sure he’d steam with heat. His heart, already darting wildly from his prior conclusion of going forward with his plans, increased its tempo until he grew lightheaded with need. Intensity arrowed down his belly, feeding his cock in a rush of lust. His pants couldn’t hide his reaction as he thickened and lengthened with how gracefully and quietly she moved.

 

He was so fucking close to breaking every rule he set up for himself for tonight and claiming her, right then and there. If he was a better man, he’d command her to go—to turn around and return to her penthouse, far away from him. But he wasn’t a man. 

He was No One, and as he stared at her, he fell completely under her spell. Roman did his best to slow his pulse. 

It didn’t work. 

His heart decided it wouldn’t calm, not now she’d bewitched him with her immortal strength, and fragile hope, and the way her damn eyes were covered with the black fabric. Not now he felt tethered to her in a way he never thought he would again. Tension poured into being, waking around their ankles, getting thicker the longer they lingered there. In absolute stillness. Marlena stood there silently, waiting. He should put her in a cab and send her home. 

He shouldn’t do this. 

 

Fuck it. 

Fuck his past. 

Fuck his future.

​

He'd become the Phantom after tonight. 

He could outrun the law for long enough. So why did the very thought of sending her away hurt something inside that he thought was long dead? Tell her to go back to her fucking fancy apartment with her fucking boyfriend. 

“John? I got your message about tonight. I know you wrote there was no talking, but- ” she tried again, her long fingers searching in the darkness. Coming to a stop in front of him, she looked celestial and chills ran over his skin, adding to his previous layer of goosebumps.

It was no longer about how beautiful or broken she was. His attraction for her had exceeded normal barriers; he didn’t know how to deal with that. 

 

Oh, fuck, get away from me, Doc. Before I do something we’ll both regret. 

 

Her chest rose and fell as if she’d heard him, her hair silky and sensual, cascading over her shoulder. His muscles tensed as she slowly reached up, her hands disappearing beneath her hair to lower her white coat to the ground. The floor creaked as he tensed. The white fabric fell in a quicksilver cascade, puddling on the carpet. 

 

Christ. 

 

He started to appreciate life after he returned to Salem, or whatever the fuck he was living because apparently, nothing was guaranteed. 

Especially his life with her. 

 

“John? Answer me? Is this all a part of a game?” She shook her head, back and forth with her lip quivering. Making his cock twitch at the sight of her. Images of him grabbing her by her sinful hips and fucking her up against the aircraft wall skated through his mind. He stepped back before he did something he was going to fucking regret. He’d spent most of the previous night watching her on the security camera he had installed in her penthouse. He couldn’t take his eyes off the recording. 

Following the way she flawlessly moved for hours across the house. The smile on her face alone was enough for him to make the call to have the equipment cleared out. But he couldn’t. He was too deep.

 

He shook away the images, the effect she had on him, the cord he couldn’t fucking cut for the life of him. Breathing hard, Roman rolled up the sleeves of his collared shirt. Unbuckling his belt next, pulling it out of the loops of his slacks with a snap.

She twitched to the noise.

“Please..talk to me..”

 

He smiled, and his smile mocked in a threatening tone. Tilting his head to the side, he raised his hand and swung the belt down on the corner of the couch, right by her leg. She gasped as it hissed through the air. Her lips parted with fear, instantly cowering back and away from him. He just wanted her to stand there, and do as she was told. 

He just wanted to get her out of his mind. 

She didn’t belong there, no one did. 

He didn't falter. 

Gripping his belt tighter, he slapped it again on the metal floor in front of him. It echoed off the walls. She immediately shuddered, panting profusely. Her tits rose and fell with each stride that brought him closer to her. 

His grasp white-knuckled the belt the whole time, not letting up on his assault. He leaned forward not being able to control himself any longer. Her vulnerability was becoming too much for him to bear. Roman dropped the belt to the floor, closing the distance between them. Catching her off guard, his body engulfed her delicate frame, he kissed along her neck and then down her collarbone, as he gritted his teeth. He wanted to say something, but that was forbidden. That would break the spell.

 

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Her breathing was pitched, her face flushed, her lips parted. The desire in her body was screaming at him to take her in his arms. Give her what she yearned for. 

She wanted him to kiss her. 

She wanted him to touch her. 

She wanted him on top of her. 

She wanted John.

 

He’ll be John for the night.

 

If she wanted him to kiss her, It meant she invited him, not just accepted it. He’d do whatever the hell she wanted. 

Her breath quickened as their mouths inched closer. Roman’s skin heated and prickled while hers broke out in goosebumps. He gritted his teeth in preparation, knowing the moment they kissed he’d struggle to stop at just a gentle caress. His mind flashed black with images of dragging her to the couch, stripping off that dress, and taking her. 

She’d let him. 

She didn’t know better.

 

But only because she thought he was John. 

She wouldn’t fight him. 

Her breath skated over his lips, sweet with strawberries and mango she had for supper that night. He groaned at the barest feather of her mouth on his. His mind almost snapped. Wanted to feel her pulse beating against his lips. Four months ago he was so goddamn grateful she was his wife. He stopped on the spot right under her ear that made her go fucking crazy. 

Moving her hair to the other side of her neck, never letting up on his caresses on her skin. He could feel the effect he was having on her.

“John…” she moaned. “please...kiss me.”

 

His heart sped up with fury, and his cock twitched, hearing that bastard’s name rolling off her tongue. He had never heard that tone come from her before. Marlena had always been a good little girl in his bed. That didn’t stop him from wanting to be the guy who makes her moan like that, he wanted to taste every last inch of her perfect body. Make her come on his cock and beg him to stop. 

 

He grabbed the sides of her face, needing to kiss her. Wanting to devour her. He stared at the black satin fabric on her eyes, it was shiny, and he could see his reflection. Looking for a trace of the man he used to be. Trying to find signs of the man she fell in love with, years ago, the remnants of who he was once upon a time. 

There was no going back for him now. He slowly moved his thumbs along the edge of her face, tracing her cheeks from side to side. Soaking up the feel of her skin against his fingertips. Ever so softly brushing his lips against the shell of her ear, remembering how she used to feel. 

 

Pulling back, he watched her again. She licked her lips as he brushed his finger down her chin to her neck, stopping to caress her beating pulse on the side of her throat. Feeling the effect she always had on him. He made his way down to her chest and focused on her heart that once belonged to him. Caressing his fingers along it, sending shivers that shook her core. Her heart was now beating a mile a minute, nothing compared to his steady beat. 

She took a deep breath, stepping closer to him, leaving no space between them. Her hand settled on the side of his neck, standing on the tips of her toes with her eyes still blindfolded, she leaned in, tenderly placing her lips on his. He felt like he hadn’t kissed her in fucking forever. His hand came up to grasp her chin, and he gripped it tight enough to bruise. He brought his face to hers, and the closer he got, she started to feel somewhat like a dog being backed into a corner. When his lips were a hair’s breadth away, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, and when she tried to pull away, his eyes flashed. Digging his fingers into her cheeks, he gritted his teeth and hissed. 

 

I will fuck you so hard you won’t be able to stand without seeming in pain, my little Doctor.

 

His face contorted, and he pressed a painful, bruising kiss to her lips. She felt it coming, but it was different this time. He swallowed her moan with a kiss that bruised, and when he stilled, the sounds of their harsh panting called out into the silence, and he put his mouth to her neck, biting her.

 

Roman didn’t waver, picking her up by her ass, wrapping her legs around his waist. He walked them toward the nearest wall, never breaking their intense kiss. They hadn’t done anything more than kiss. Roman was patient, but his cock was eager to sink into her sweet pussy. He meant to drive her insane with need. Taking her to the edge, getting her nice and fucking wet. He wasn’t a goddamn saint anymore. He was a man. He had needs, and he needed her. He sensually kissed down her neck to her collarbone, working his way down closer to her breasts. Going right for her hard nipple that was poking through her slim dress. He wanted nothing more than to take her tits in his mouth and make her come from that sensation alone. 

 

She knew better than to come here tonight without wearing a bra. She knew John would love it.

“John, you need to stop,” she purred, arching her back off the wall. He didn’t answer, continuing his descent. Her chest was rising and falling with every movement of his lips getting closer to her nipple. “We shouldn’t do this, I’m still getting over Roman..you’re with Kristen.” 

He ground and lightly flicked her nipple with his tongue through her dress, grinning as he peered up at her. She was coming undone before him, soft moans escaping her pouty lips. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and placed them gently above her head. His other hand worked its way down her torso to her hip, as he ground his hard cock right against her sensitive pussy. Pushing her further to the edge. 

“John...listen to m-” His big palm covered her breathy plea.

He groaned, desperately needing to take what he wanted to be his. What was once all his. Her mouth parted under his hand and she licked her lips as he slowly pulled down the white strips of her dress. 

 

The smell and feel of her were all around him, making him burn with desire to claim every last fucking inch of her. He wanted to capture this moment and hold onto it for as long as he could. He wanted to remember her just like this.

Just for him. 

His alone.

 

Gliding his fingers toward the back of her neck, he slowly and intentionally, massaged the soft nook area. Her head subconsciously leaned back into his touch, and she closed her lips. He roughly gripped her hair, causing a moan to escape her swollen, cock sucking lips. He pulled her up to stand in front of him, eyeing her up and down. Her tits made him immediately want to stick his cock in between them, and come all over her gorgeous face. 

 

With his other hand, he started to unbutton the top of her dress, easing it off her shoulders, leaving her bare before him. His knuckles caressed the roundness of her breasts as her nipples hardened from his touch. Everywhere his fingers went, they left behind a craving for more. 

The way she breathed. 

The way she subtly leaned into his embrace. 

The way her mouth parted and her tongue moved to wet her dry lips. Her goddamn body trembled with every movement of his hand. He leaned forward, lightly touching his lips against her ear, letting his teeth beat on her earlobe, not being able to control the insatiable urge.

“Oh, God!”

Shuddering, she drew in a breath against his lips, as soon as his fingers found her wet folds. He roughly pushed his middle finger into her pussy, causing her to gasp from the intrusion, but she quickly recovered. 

Melting into his hand. 

 

She is such a good girl, I may let her come...this is what she wants.

 

She moaned. “Oh John, oh, God” 

He finger fucked her until her head bowed against the metal wall, her knees buckled, and the scent of her arousal surrounded them like it was a part of the goddamn air. When he felt like she was close to coming, he pulled his fingers out of her pulsating center. She took a deep breath, chest heaving, anticipating his next move. His breathing quickened as he coaxed her, trying to hold back his impatience. She enticed his lips to touch hers. “Please make me come,” she whispered against them. 

 

He smacked her pussy, hard. 

She stilled, whimpering. 

He only gritted out. 

Her lips parted, trying to step aside, but he grabbed her around her throat and shoved her against the wall, holding her in place with his tight grasp. Her hands instantaneously went right to his. Prying at his fingers to let go. He tsk. The only sound he allowed himself to utter, trying to hide his pleasure from the pain he was causing. 

She stilled. 

 

“John…” she started, “what are you doing?” The tremor in her voice was evident. He grinned, tightening his hold around her neck. His finger sent to her lips, shushing her.

Her mouth opened as he intensified his grip, lifting her off the floor a little, so she couldn’t make a sound. He tilted his head and pouted, wanting to provoke her even more. Her pussy was fucking wetter, visually betraying her. He lifted her legs around his waist and pushed his body against hers, brushing his hard cock against her awaiting pussy so she could feel his need for her. He ran his hand up her thigh to her waist, gripping onto her fuckable hips. Imagine how wet he was making her, how much he could make her come and scream out his goddamn name.

 

But it won't be his name on her lips.

 

His lips hovered over hers, on the verge of connecting as she panted profusely. He wanted to give into her. But, he let her go, causing her to hiss at the sudden loss of his lips against her heated skin. 

He couldn’t do it. 

Everything about it was wrong. 

 

But then Marlena gasped, her cry the most beautiful hymn he’d heard in his life, and everything else vanished except her and her smell and her taste and the feeling of her. Reluctantly, he pulled back, wanting to bury his face into her, but knowing he shouldn’t, and then he stood and saw how she lifted her head as if she was staring at him like he was the most wondrous thing she’d ever seen.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking them, and he kept his gaze on her partly dressed body as he slid his hands from her hips up to her inner thighs, his thumbs coming teasingly close to her pussy. He did it again, this time daring to go closer. His thumbs ran over her folds and she shuddered, and so did he, because holy shit, she was wet. 

So wet that he knew he’d be able to push his cock right in with no resistance. “Fuck me...Oh God, John..please fuck me...” she begged. 

Roman breathed hard. Every time she said his name, a sharp pain pulsed through his mind. Taking his thumbs and spreading her folds apart, he moved that smooth pink flesh aside so that her entrance was completely exposed, begging for fingers or a cock. His tourturse movement stilled. It didn’t take long for her mouth to open and her breathing to catch up in her throat.

​

 

******

​
 

It rang twice before he noticed. The room was dark, but it lit the nightstand with a white pale glow.

John leaned against the big pillow and sent his hand onto the oak dresser, wrapping it around his cellphone. The screen showed Roman name. The last time they saw each other, he accused him of being a sick man...for leaving her. That was before the divorce papers came through, but it was him who desired to belong to her. He needed to do the right thing. For Marlena’s sake. 

She fought for them.

She lost.

And now she slept in the ruins of their marriage, night after night. 

A moment of sheer confusion clouded his thoughts before he tunneled. 

“Roman” he started. The sleep in his voice was evident, so was the confusion, guilt, hurt.

 

The sounds of breathing bled into his ear. Then he heard a low moan, drowning out the anger in his mind. For a moment, he just sat there. Fighting back a gasp of shock. 

 

He will not degrade himself to his level. How high school was this? How stupid?

He knew that voice. He’d recognise it everywhere.

Roman was with her. They were together, and he wanted to make sure he’d listen.

Perfect.

 

He tried to laugh it off, but there was no sound to his voice, only the sharp intake of breath as he tried to stifle a growl. He swallowed the ache clogging his throat, blinked a few times. Finally, taking a deep breath, he took the phone in his hand and was about to hang up. This really shouldn’t affect him. They were no longer together. 

Then he heard it.

A short word, coming from a very pleased mouth. He heard it a million times before, and it always sounded the same, and always made him hard. He tried not to listen, to tell himself this was only his imagination, playing evil tricks on his mind, but then it was again.

That word: “John”. Just hearing it tensed his insides, leaving a gaping emptiness. His mouth opened and closed, no words coming out.

 

Can’t move. Can’t reach her. He jerked awake with a gasp, sitting up in a rush that sent an air-conditioned breeze across his sweat-soaked skin. He couldn’t breathe through the panic and fear choking him. Shoving off the sheet tangled around his legs, John stumbled out of bed, blind with terror.

There it was again: “Oh God, John...” Her voice was a soft rasp, matching the achy tone of her want. Her need.

Shocked silence filled the room. The words he’d heard circled restlessly in his mind, taunting him with how the fuck this could be. The shock of hearing his name in Marlena’s voice reverberated through him. His body jolted, jerking him out of the deepest sleep. Rolling to his side with a low moan, he struggled awake, shoving his hair out of his face

“What the fuck is going on” Moonlight slanted through the room and haloed the bed. Startled, horrified, he scrubbed at his eyes. In a corner of his mind, he sensed the lingering shadow of a dream. The brush of memory had him shivering, spiralling further downward. 

 

Hearing her gasp again shocked him to his very core. He needed to get to her, to find her.

He listened again, he couldn’t hear Roman at all. It was only Marlena’s breathy moans, and the sounds of hips pushing against each other, and a low familiar hum. 

That hum.

He instantly recognized the hum of aircraft engines and gentle thrum of metal.

He couldn’t breathe.

They were on his plane.

 

“Marlena!!” the yell reverberated through him without giving it a second thought, but the sounds didn't waver, they only got louder.

He fought for air and a horrible sound ripped from his burning lungs.

A sob. 

Christ. 

Then another. 

He couldn’t stop the violent contractions. “Marlena..oh my, God, hang on...” his mind ran a million miles, dark thoughts seeped into where all good thoughts go to die.

You believe you can trust someone…until the moment they turn against you.

 

*******

 

He stared at her with dark dilated eyes. Her body leaned against the wall, losing her balance. “Please…” she panted. “Please… make me come…” she breathed out effortlessly. He smiled, big and wide, his dark eyes mirroring his soul. She obviously didn’t know who the fuck she was dealing with, and his patience was already wearing very thin. 

Marlena released her legs from his stronghold as if to stand, but he was getting what he came here for, and right now. He wrapped one arm around her waist and yanked her down, onto the two fingers he had waiting for her. With the arm around her waist, he pushed her down even farther, so that her pussy was grinding against his hand. His fingers crooked forward, finding the soft textured spot that would send her over the edge. He moved his fingers while he lightly bit her ear. A ragged sigh left her lips as he pressed her harder against his hand. He bit at her collarbone and the soft skin around her neck, her wetness quivering against his hand and that velvet belt from her coat just begging to be wrapped around her wrists, and then she came with a low moan, bucking forcefully against him as he held her tighter, worked her harder, wrung every last drop of pleasure from her climax. As she came down, her body relaxed against his, but he was nowhere near relaxed. He slid his hand out from underneath her and put his fingers to her lips, making her suck her own taste off of them. 

 

Then he took that velvet coat belt in hand and slowly, he pulled back and wrapped one end of the length around her neck, tying it to itself in a secure knot—the kind of knot that meant he’d be able to yank on it without worrying about it tightening around her neck. Leash secured, he wrapped the loose end once around his hand and gave an experimental tug. She jerked forward a bit, making a surprised noise, but her pulse thrummed in her neck, so he felt free to pull again, forcing her to slide closer. 

He sat down on the sofa, leaned forward, and placed his elbows on his knees. His eyes bored her hot flash like he was claiming her without having to say a word. There was something animalistic about the way he stared at her. Almost like a lion before it attacked its prey, luring her with his eyes and his captivating demeanor. Making her more nervous. And wet.

 

Marlena winced at the cold floor on already bare legs, his other hand drifted down her nape and along her hair. He gripped her nape and squeezed it gently.

She held out her hands and found the edge of his boxers, and crawled her way between his legs, watching the way her tits swung as she did. Once she was in between his knees, he yanked up, perhaps a bit harder than he should have, but he was almost lost with lust at this point, lost to his inner caveman and his inner demon, and all he wanted was that pretty red mouth on his cock right the fuck now. 

She curled her fingers around the waistband of his black boxer briefs and pulled down, and his cock sprang free, jutting up between the V of his legs. He wound the end of the leash around his hand a few more times until the velvet was taut, and then he pulled her head to his cock, but she didn’t open her mouth right away, those red lips sealed. 

 

But the hint of a smile was at the corners of her mouth, delighted defiance in her moan, and he remembered years ago, when she’d asked him to steal her kisses—no, not even steal. She’d wanted him to force them from her. He didn’t want to play that game then. He sure as hell wanted to play it now. This is what she got from John. Things he couldn’t give her.

So he wound the leash tighter and jerked, her mouth now pressed against the underside of his penis, the sensation of her breath against his skin enough to make him wild. 

 

​

I’ll play your little game, Doc. She can either suck me on her own or I can make her do it. So unless she wants that, she better open that pretty little mouth and do her fucking job.

 

​

Marlena was covered in goosebumps, and he didn’t miss the way she tried to rub her thighs together. Impatiently, he stuck a finger between her lips and forced them apart.

He waited.

Her hands shot forward quickly, one landing on his chest to keep him reclined, the other grasping him. It didn’t take an astute observer to notice the extra flare of interest in her body; she wanted there to be hell to pay, but he also thought she wanted to suck him because she finally perched her candy apple lips at his tip, and—moving her golden hair from her cheeks as she did so—slid her mouth down and over him, her tongue flat and scorching against his shaft.

Holy. 

Fucking. 

Jesus. 

His mind collapsed as her hot wet mouth sucked him hard. 

She didn’t tease.

She didn’t toy. 

Her hands slipped over him as her lips followed, sucking him deep, turning him brain dead. Instinct roared into control. Pent-up desire unleashing and taking ownership. His hips thrust up as his hand landed on her head. Somewhere in the back of sanity, he noticed how soft her hair felt. 

He’d never feel that again.

Never again.

How she bobbed over him. How fucking good her tongue worked his crown. He didn’t think she thought he was John. He didn’t think about their past. All he thought about was how goddamn good she felt. What a magician she was with her tongue and fingers and mouth. Every blood cell relocated in his cock, throbbing for more. And she gave it to him as if she understood his body more than he did. 

Her tongue swiped again, dancing around the tip, dragging a ragged groan from deep inside him.

 

He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t win. His legs widened as she shuffled closer on her knees. Her hair blanketed his thighs as she kept his boxers pulled away while her other hand dropped over his stomach to cup his balls below. 

She drove him insane. He shivered with every touch and lick. It’d been ages since he’d been with her. The words ‘willing woman’ shot into his head, tearing through his lust. Marlena was a woman, but was she willing? Why was her mouth on him? Her tongue tasting him; her hand superbly working him to come? Why was she on her knees? 

 

Shit. 

 

Keeping his hand tight on the leash, he leaned back to watch the show, watch her breasts move as she worked him, watch those hazel eyes covered with a piece of black fabric, the memory alone would get him hard in the shower for years to come. And those lips like a gorgeous red halo around his cock was the only halo he ever wanted again, a circle of wicked wants and devilish delights. 

Up and down she went, sometimes fluttering her tongue, sometimes running it in a hot, wide line down his shaft. Roman thrust up to meet her, hitting the back of her throat, and—losing all semblance of patience—grabbed the back of her head to keep her from pulling away. He held her head with both hands and pumped that way for several long seconds, fucking her throat like he fucked her pussy—hard and without apology, and she deserved it for being such a brazen, shameless traitor. 

 

You like that, don’t you, Doc...

 

She was breathing carefully through her nose.

 

I know you do. You like it when John treats you roughly. It makes you wet to be treated like the slut you are, doesn’t it?

 

She made a noise that could have been a yes or a no to his unspoken question or simply a moan of pure pleasure. Whatever it was, it made his stomach clench and his hands dig into her scalp and his balls tighten with the need to release. But he didn’t want to come in her mouth. 

Pulling on the leash, it took everything within him to stop her. She obeyed, coming off his cock with watery, smudged lips and one of the biggest smiles he’d ever seen on her face. He used the leash to bring her face to his as he leaned toward her. He tugged on the material of her panties, making sure she understood what he wanted. She pressed her lower lip between her teeth, and he didn't know what his face looked like, but whatever expression was there, was the expression of a lost man.

 

She stood up, hooked her thumbs at the sides of her panties, and slipped them down, one white heel coming off the floor and then the other as she stepped out of them. He kept a loose grip on the leash as she did, spooling it out so she’d have plenty of slack, licking his lips at the swollen perfection exposed between her legs. He wanted to worship her with his mouth, he wanted her coming on his tongue again and again. She deserved it, his little ex-wife, for not realizing he was not her dear John. 

 

Roman got on the floor behind her, also on his knees, and because the music (2Cellos - Bang Bang cover) was so loud, he didn't think she heard. She was bent completely over, her face to the floor, her ass high in the air, and he took his cock and shoved it into her with one rough thrust, all the way in, slapping her hard on one ass cheek as he did. 

 

She gasped, and that was enough to keep his conscience at bay as he fucked her harder than was purely gentlemanly, not fast necessarily, just hard and deep, the kind of deep that made her toes curl and his balls swing against her clit. And then the snake slithered again, that angry, bitter snake, as he remembered that he was not the first man to do this to her here, that she’d been fucked before like this, in this very place, and then that anger was itching at his palms and coiling in his pelvis. 

 

He wanted to punish her. 

He wanted to hurt her the way she hurt him with making him care so much, but instead of hurting her, he pulled out and stood up, his cock wet and as hard as fucking steel, throbbing with the need to screw the pussy still raised up in offering to him. 

 

He sat down on the chair and pulled her to straddle him. Guiding her, she didn’t hesitate to climb up his lap and then impale herself on him, sinking down with her tight, hot center, her tits right in his face. And here, now that he could see her this close, he buried his face in her breasts, smelling the lavender smell of her, the clean smell of her hair. She tugged at his hair so that his head was pulled back. 

 

He closed his eyes. 

He couldn’t look at her. 

She will hate him after she’d learned the truth of what he’d done to her tonight, but she was still fucking him, rocking back and forth instead of up and down, using his cock to get her off as if the rest of him was irrelevant. 

God, that was hot. 

 

“I want you to hurt me, make me feel John...please...” 

His eyes flew open and he stilled.

 

What?

 

“You’re a man, John. It doesn’t matter what I tell you or even what you choose to believe about what you learned in Maison Blanche…there’s always going to be this Neanderthal inside you that wants to claim me. Reclaim me, if necessary, and I thought…” She slowed her movements, looking uncertain for the first time. “I thought if we played like this, it would be easier for you to let go. To satisfy that part of you that you don’t want to acknowledge. That part that you hide from. Because it’s a bigger slice of you than you think.” 

 

As if to underscore her point, she scratched her fingernails down his stomach—hard—and his hand spanked her ass so fast that he barely knew what he was doing. She gave a little moan and ground herself down on him. 

“See? You need this. And I need this. I’ll take you to every place I’ve ever been and let you fuck me there, so you can rewrite my history as your history if you want,” she promised. “Let me give that to you.” He looked at her in amazement. 

In gratitude. 

She loved John so much. She won't ever love him the same.

 

She was so astute and so giving and of course, he hadn’t needed to watch out for her well-being. As always, she had both of them under control when she surrendered her control to him, to John. How could he act out his primal need to claim her knowing that? Knowing how generous and brave she was? 

 

“I want you to claim me as your own, John,” she said, leaning to whisper in his ear. The change in position squeezed her center around his length and he sucked in a breath. 

 

Fuck yes.

 

Mind made up, he grabbed her thighs and stood, keeping her pelvis pinned to his as he stepped over to the sofa. He kissed her—a soft, searing kiss—a reminder of how much he loved her before the rough part of his life took over, which it did right after their mouths broke apart. He set Marlena down and flipped her over the arm of the sofa, so that her ass was higher than her head, and then notched the head of his cock in her entrance.

He sank in with a groan. 

He shoved in again, hard enough that her feet came off the floor, and he kept going like that, her beautiful ass filling his hands and her satin center around his cock and her moans as she ground her clit against the firm arm of the sofa. He spanked her, wishing he could drink her moans like Scotch and eat her moans afterward. He fucked her hard, taking in the golden hair tumbling over her back, the delicate lines of her small waist as they swelled into her perfect hips and ass, her wet center gripping him, and the pink aperture of her asshole—all of it was his tonight. 

 

Roman spanked and scratched and stabbed her over and over again with his cock until finally, finally, she made a noise that was half gasp, half wail, pulsing around him, her hands scrabbling at the leather as she was lost to everything but her body’s response to him. He was lost to it too—this moment where he had rewritten history, her body’s history—where he had made this plane belong to him and the orgasms that he’d given her. Where he’d come inside of her and made her his and no other man’s.

 

​

********

 

Her world solidified. 

She traded treacle-unconsciousness for cumbersome reality. One moment she was off in make-believe land with deformed clouds and black rainbows, the next, she was awake. 

 

What happened? 

 

Groggy, heartbroken, stupefied. Marlena clutched her head, warding off the gentle headache and fuzzy taste on her tongue. She smacked her lips, trying to get rid of the taste.

The metallic residue was…familiar. 

 

Ether.

 

It reminded her of the time she was brought to Maison Blanche not too long ago. Massaging her temples, she forced her brain to work. 

 

What happened? 

 

She blinked. 

The weaver quarters pieced together like a storybook—Her eyes flew to the white coat discarded on the carpet. 

 

She followed the trail of white spaghetti strap dress over the floor. She frowned at the unwanted lingerie on the foot of the sofa. Then she saw the black blindfold. And everything propelled into her with razor blades. 

Night. 

Plane. 

Blindfold. 

John? 

Quiet.

Sex.

Ether.

Cut. 

 

Marlena’s hands flew to cover her mouth. 

 

Oh, my God. 

What happened? 

 

Her heart catapulted into a thousand beats. 

 

Oh, God. 

Was it John? Where is he?

 

Panic and horror shook her hands as she shoved the thin blanket away and looked at her body. She didn’t know what she expected to find—bruises and cuts and obvious marks of rape—but the stark whiteness of her skin hid answers. 

 

She has to know. 

She had to see, had to come to terms with what foul, disgusting things might’ve been done while she was unconscious. 

 

I need a mirror. 

 

Swinging her legs over the edge of the sofa, she leaped. Her feet touched something cool and hard, rather than warm and soft. Her balance tripped, her ankle twisted, and she tumbled forward to land on all fours. A masculine curse filled the space. Something shoved her, turning her fall into a somersault. 

She cried out, coming to a halt on her back. 

John. 

The instant her eyes landed on him, the fear over what happened choked her lungs. John groaned, but his eyes remained closed. His arm flung out, seeking something. 

She scrambled to his feet. Shadows crossed his eyes, faint lines etching his mouth as if he argued some internal debate. 

 

What the hell was he doing on the floor?

What went over him last night?

Why didn’t he say anything? 

 

She couldn’t stop the crashing waves of fear, distrust, and utter neasia taking hold. He flinched, grunting as if in pain. Climbing to her feet, she darted around the sofa and pulled the warm blanket into her hands. Needed to cover him. 

 

“John.” Her voice was full of dread, she sat back on the sofa, her head foggy. Shuffling sounded below, but no reply. A few tense minutes ratcheted her heart rate before he slowly inclined from lying to sitting. His back rested against the wall as he groaned, grabbing his head. “Fuck.” 

He didn’t lookup.

His long legs bent, the rest of his body wrung out and weary. Rubbing both hands over his face, he flinched. Every motion was lethargic and slow. Looking over his shoulder, he froze. 

Her breathing ceased. 

Her blood curdled. “J-John?” 

The single syllable hung between them like a deflating balloon falling to the carpet. 

“What h-happened? You weren’t yourself last night” she stifled.

John swallowed. 

Pain and fury swam in his eyes. 

Finally, he shook his head. 

Gone was the refined gentleman. Gone were the chiseled cheekbones and radiant blue eyes. The man before her…the man who loved her, and still held her heart in his hands was a mere shadow of himself—not even a shadow—an extinguished, extinct, broken thing. 

 

They stared for a millennium. 

Slowly, his lips tilted into a grimace; he bestowed the saddest, sweetest smile and staggered to his feet. 

“I’m sorry, Doc.” With an unsteady wave, he swayed to the door. “I came as soon as I could ... I was only trying to keep you safe. I wanted to keep you…safe.” His voice roped around her heart, forcing it to beat and flurry. His steps were terminally empty, staggering toward the exit. 

 

“I don’t understand” she threw the blanket away and hurled herself out of the sofa. Storming after him, she grabbed his forearm and dug her nails into his flesh. 

“I woke up, like this...tell me why, tell me what came over you last night.” Tears exploded into being—a salty river flowing unheeded down her cheeks. 

“You were very abusive...you drugged me... what happened to you?!” He stood there like a township sacked by pillaging enemies. He didn’t move to hold her or argue or explain. He just curled into himself, squeezing his eyes as tight as possible. Her hands moved to her mouth as tears welled up. “Tell me what happened to me!” She squeezed his arms. “Look me in the eye and tell me...tell me why...please...” her voice broke.

“I need to know!” He jerked away from her barrage, backing toward the door. 

 

“Doc..this is...I’m so sorry...you should rest, I’ll get you something to drink. I won’t put you through anymore—” 

“No!” She screamed. “Tell me now.”

She had never been so loud. 

Her voice bounced off the metal walls, disappearing into luxury wine goblets. “John, you leave now and you will never be welcome in my life. You hear me?” Marlena’s voice cracked from the thought. 

John stumbled backward, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t want to hear —” 

“Then tell me!” she stalked him as he lurched away. Her stomach coiled and spat with pain. 

 

How she played along with him once more, just to fall into the abyss. She was in pieces. He grunted, shaking his head. “Marlena—don’t—” 

“No. You don’t.” She pushed him. Her hands curled into fists, raining on his chest. “Talk to me! Tell me what happened to me? I know you know. I can see it in your eyes.” 

He swallowed hard, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I heard you, I couldn’t reach you in time-” He stumbled forward, pushing past to reach for the door as if it was inches away not miles. 

“I’m gonna get you some water.” The slurred and hesitation spoke out of his mouth.

“You were here with me,” she stated, letting her pain frolic in the brittle sound. 

He shook his head. “I was, but not until the end...I got here as soon as I could...seeing you like this.” His eyes watered. “I wish I was faster. Fuck…” 

“What do you mean, you got here at the end?” She plucked the blanket she wore. “What do you mean, John?” Her eyes narrowed. Anger boiled over, stripping body from bone. Her temper was corrosive—an acid eating its way like a worm inside her mind. She couldn’t go on living like this. She couldn’t exist in this hell. “Look at me! Fucking look at what’s happening to me!!” 

“Stop.” He covered his mouth, shaking his head. “Doc, just stop—” 

“No! I won’t stop. Not until you tell me. Tell me what happened to me last night. I need to know. Don’t you get it? Not knowing is worse!” She balled her hands, wanting to punch something. 

 

He froze. 

“I—I can’t. Not now.” 

“Yes. Now. This instant.” She pointed at the door of the aircraft. “You leave, you never come back. I’ll never again acknowledge you, look at you…. Do you understand? Never, John. This is your last chance.” She ran hands through her hair, pulling the strands. 

“I don’t even know why I’m giving you that. After what you did last night, you don’t deserve a chance to explain..”

A tortured groan echoed in his chest. “Marlena. It wasn—” 

“No!” She stomped her foot. “Tell. Me” The air around him withered and wilted. He shrunk, closing himself off from everything. She stood there like an island as his regret and confusion waked around her ankles. His utter devastation undermined her anger, but she refused to break. It was his turn to show her light in this never-ending blackness. 

Trusted in the stolen touches and bone-deep knowledge that he loved her still. And no matter how badly he treated her last night, she couldn’t tear out the love she had for him. Her anger switched to sadness. If he couldn’t even give her this—when she was at her most violent and open—he couldn’t give her anything. 

 

Just let him go, Marlena. 

End this charade. 

 

She sighed, taking a step backward. “John, go. Just leave.” His spine stiffened as he glared at the wall. Tears ran down her face as she stared at the unrecognized man she’d given her heart to. The icy fear that she’d been abused by him filled her mind. 

 

Would John ever do something so evil? 

 

He gritted his teeth, finally looking at her. “Marlena, am I supposed to stand here and tell you that your ex-husband pretended to be me and raped you and degraded you to the point of ruin. I’m supposed to stand here and fill your vacant memories with pain and evil abuse.” He took a step toward her. Her skin crawled at the thought of him coming closer. “But, no matter how this will backfire, no matter if my plan fails and everything I’ve tried to avoid comes into play, I can’t—I can’t do that to you.” 

His eyes were wild and dilated, thanks to sleep deprivation. “Marlena, I swear on my fucking life, that was not me who you slept with last night. Before Roman left, he knocked you out, so we could leave without making a scene. I found you like this.” He punched his chest. “But I give you my word, I was not here with you before that.”

His eyes fell on her body. “I dressed you, kissed you, and then I curled up on the floor...” 

A sob wrenched through her chest. 

 

Oh, God. 

Roman touched her. 

He lied to her.

He raped her.

 

She almost fell to the floor in shock. But the complications in those sentences—the truth, the distress—forced her to keep pushing, keep talking. 

“How do you know it was Roman?״ She mumbled, her fingernails tapping on her plumped lips, wrapping her arms around herself, she took a step closer. Her need to hurt Roman hadn’t receded but beneath her violent rage, there was the incessant urge to hug John, touch him—fix both of them. 

 

He shied away. 

Guilt in his eyes. “Doc.” His voice was strangled—a sharp warning to keep her distance. “I didn’t get here in time…he called me...I heard you over the phone…I didn’t get here in time..” 

They stood apart. Two figurines in a grey sea of metal. The air was cool, coaxing her temper to simmer. Not being allowed to touch was torture. She couldn’t deny herself the need to connect. 

Marlena closed the gap and touched the back of his arm. Her eyes flared at how hot he was. 

She swallowed. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t...listen to me, John Black,” She said through fresh tears, her voice gathered momentum. “Roman hurt me. Everything inside wants to switch off and cut him from my soul. I’m close. So damn close to that—to slicing him free.” She hunched into herself with every word, swallowing back a sob, she kept going. “There’s a place inside me that’s fading. What I felt for him is dying. Do you think I enjoyed last night?” Tears spilled with no authority. “It was absolute torture, John. The worst one I’ve had to pay over our affair.” 

His teeth locked together, backing away from her, moving toward the small windows. She advanced all the while talking, hoping he listened. “But despite all that—the unforgivable hands over me, the lies and horrible behavior—I have you, and you’re here now.” She lowered her gaze, looking at his bare feet. Their breathing laced together as they let the impact of truth tear them apart. If what he said was true and Roman touched her last night, she was going to have to deal with it. She owed him her sanity. John didn’t move—he seemed atrophied with guilt and shame. Marlena breathed hard, forcing herself to expose the last exquisitely vulnerable honesty.

 

He faced her, finally meeting her tearful gaze, “Doc, no matter how screwed up and wrong the past few months have been, they’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” John sucked in a breath. “I will live through everything life sends my way, I will always come for you.” A groan cut short as he froze in place. His fists clenched. His head bowed and the most heart-clenching gasp fell from his lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

She choked back a sob, caught between needing to hide and going to hold him. “I know. But I’m not looking for an apology for what’s happened.” Her tummy fluttered with an aviary of birds. 

 

Please, hold me. Please, see me. 

 

“What do you need, Doc?” He drifted toward her. She didn’t move as the distance diminished. Hesitantly, with the gentlest touch, he placed a hand over her heart. The same irregular beat hammered back. The same uncertainty and lostness from the hot springs. She sucked in a breath. Her lungs gasped for oxygen as if she hadn’t breathed since she woke up. “I need to know what was he thinking…I need-” her voice broke, “What has he become?” She fell. 

Her knees gave out. She slid down the wall like a melting glacier. The moment she hit the floor, her knees came up caging her body, barricading her from the pain she couldn’t handle. His arms wrapped around them, curling into herself, pressing her forehead onto her legs. Hiding. He stood there unable to move. “I don't know, baby, Oh my God…I love you, Doc…I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

 

She started to cry.

Her anguished groan ripped out his soul, leaving it bleeding in hell. Her legs moved higher, her arms wrapped tighter, but nothing could hold together what was happening. Blistering agony clutched him as he witnessed her coming apart. It was as if every stitch holding her together ripped open, leaving her gasping and dying. John wanted to be the needle to sew her back together. But he couldn’t. Not yet. She needed to do this. She needed to get it out. 

“It’s okay, I'm here” He whispered. He pooled to the floor, and wrapped himself around her quaking body. “It’s alright.” He rested his forehead on her temple, running his fingers through her hair. She tried to pull away; she tried to stop her tears, but nothing could stop this. She was utterly ruined. Hanging her head, her shoulders quaked as silent tears erupted from her beautiful golden eyes. His stomach twisted as the woman he loved came completely undone. He didn’t let her grieve on her own. He willed her to feel how much he cared, how much he was there for her. 

 

She stopped fighting his hold and let loose. She cried. As her tears fell, his own dried up. 

She didn’t make a sound. 

Not a single gasp or moan. 

Utterly silent. 

“What did he do to you?” He murmured. “You have to tell me. You have to let it go.” His hands skated down her back, touching every inch: her face, her throat, her knees. He would be there. Through thick and thin. She didn’t stop crying. Every quiver and silent sob exhausted him. “Give me your pain. Share it with me, Doc.” He wanted to do whatever he could to heal her, to fix her.

She suddenly turned in his embrace. Gathering her close, he pushed upward to his feet. She didn’t move as his arms clutched her painfully, stumbling across the aircraft. The moment the sofa was within tumbling distance, they fell together. Facing each other, John never let her go. He buried his face in her neck, hiding his wet eyes but unable to disguise the steady trickle of moisture down her throat. 

 

God, he was sorry. So sorry that bastard broke her. 

 

“It’s okay, Doc. It’s okay.” His voice was a steady metronome, granting acceptance in repetition. “I’m not leaving. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay., I'm here. His arms banded until her bones ached in his embrace. Without a word, John raised his head. One arm unwrapped, and his hand captured her chin, tilting her mouth to his. Before she could breathe, his lips crashed over hers. His touch was violent, harsh—all-consuming. Need sprang sharp and fragrant. Desire hijacked her mind with such weight and demand, she buckled with it. 

 

They spiraled together. His fingers bruised and his tongue dove into her mouth, stealing her gasp and conjuring lust so brutal, she came alive and died all at the same time. Together, they merged tighter. John cushioned her head with his arm as he rolled her onto her back, covering her body with his. His hand drifted down her ribcage, branding her with every inch. His lips continued to dance with hers—their breathing harsh, tongues violent. She cried out as his fingers captured her breast, pinching her nipple. Her back bowed, forcing more of her into his hold. He groaned, his breath losing its brokenness, becoming rapid with lust. Desire swirled and demanded, giving them nowhere to hide. 

 

She became instantly wet as he tugged the hem of her blanket, shoving it over her hips. She wriggled as he fumbled between them, undoing his button and zipper. He grunted as he yanked his jeans and boxer-briefs down, only making it to mid-thigh. His teeth pinched her bottom lip as he forced her knees to spread. His elbows dug into the couch, positioning himself higher. 

 

They both cried out as his hard cock settled between her legs. There was no foreplay, no preparation. They didn’t need it. They were too far gone—too terrifyingly open and desperate for connection. He angled the head of his cock and thrust. She groaned into his mouth as his size blazed with tender agony. He kissed her, slinking his tongue with hers, rocking his hips, using her wetness to spread her wider. He forced her body to yield and melt. Her tears continued to fall, trickling into his mouth and lacing his taste with salty pain. He imprisoned her cheeks, rubbing his thumbs in the dampness, hoping she understood how much he loved her. That he was there for her. 

​

Forever. 

​

His breathing turned ragged, each exhale releasing soul-burning agony he’d carried all his life. With an arm around her shoulders, he reached down and clutched her hip, holding her firm. He thrust harder, slipping past the final barrier and filling her completely. They sighed as that heavenly link slotted perfectly into place. Her body quivered around his. 

There was no warning. No anticipation. 

 

The moment he’d filled her, his rocking turned from questing to vicious. Without his arm around her shoulders, she would’ve shifted upward with every brutal thrust. But he held her for his pleasure. He used her. They used each other. They used passion to defeat pain. Wielded need to combat despair. It would either heal them or break them, but there was no stopping the tsunami they rode. 

“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry,” he mumbled into her hair. His tears had stopped, but his voice remained shaky. His hips never stopped thrusting, driving them higher. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Rocking faster. 

Their minds switched from words to releases. They gave themselves over to pleasure. Somewhere deep inside her, she let go. She floated upward, acknowledging that fate stole her from a life she thought she wanted with Roman, but that was never her true destiny. 

He was. 

Something slotted into place—bigger than a puzzle piece, more poignant than scripture or knowing. It was the accumulation of fighting for something and finally earning it. It was home. John pulled back, his jaw locked. His eyes burned as he rocked headfirst into a devouring tempo. She couldn’t look away. His body inside her body. His soul inside her soul. She couldn’t contain the magic they sparked. “I need to tell you—how I feel…what this means.”  He shook his head, his lips grazing hers. “I know. I feel it, too.” Tears leaked from her eyes as his mouth sealed tight. The wet heat of him and the scorching power of his cock splintered her in two. There was no break or reprieve. 

 

John fucked her, made love to her, and consumed her with no thought to them being watched or cataloged. Long, deep, dominating strokes dragged echoing moans. Arching her hips, she rubbed her clit on the base of his cock.

“More,” she begged. “Harder.” 

He obeyed. 

She couldn’t breathe, straining for an orgasm that would shatter her. “Faster, deeper.” He grunted, following her every command. She’d never lived through something so intense. It broke her. It fixed her. 

It stole. 

It gifted. 

Overwhelming. 

Rewarding. 

Destroying. 

Renewing. 

 

“I’m going to fill you. I need to fill you,” John groaned. His voice whispered through her blood, setting fire to the gunpowder between her legs. She came. Spindles and shooting stars and spectacular bliss. He swallowed her pleasure, his tongue diving in time with his erection. “God, Marlena.” 

Every emotion he’d kept hidden lashed around her like a vow. “I love you.” Wetness spurted inside her as he let go. He let go of everything. For a split second, her heart hardened remembering what happened. But then she gathered him closer. There was time for that. Time for them to grow together with no more traps. This was them. This was freedom. 

When his body relaxed and the last wave of his orgasm filled her, he pulled away. His eyes locked on hers; he traced his thumb over her mouth. “I’ll always come back for you, Doc. No matter where I am. I will always find you.”