Buttons and Blame (Buttons 5)

Unbelievable.

So good.

She clung to me when she was finished, panting against me as she caught her breath. She sat on my cock, my entire length deep inside her along with all my come. “I missed this.”

“I missed it too.”

“Don’t make me miss it ever again.”

I couldn’t hide my smile at her demand, loving the sexy way she bossed me around. “Okay.”

When she saw my smile, her eyes softened. “I missed that more than anything else.”

My smile faded away, touched by the sincerity in her expression.

She ran her fingers along my jawline, feeling the thick hair across my face. She leaned in and kissed me on the corner of my mouth, her breaths falling over my face.

I squeezed her against me and held her in place. I was secured deep inside her, feeling my wife’s weight on my lap. Her tits were pressed against my chest, and she felt so good in my embrace. If something ever happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to go on. I’d put a gun to my head and pull the trigger.

I’d rather blow my brains out than live without her.

* * *

I sat across from her at the dining table and read the paper while I enjoyed breakfast. I was hungry from skipping dinner the night before. Button was ready for the day in a black dress with her hair pulled back. Her makeup was done, and this time it wasn’t runny.

I liked these quiet moments we had together, when we would enjoy our routines without having to make conversation. Sometimes, I would look at her and catch her looking at me. And she would do the same to me.

She sipped her coffee then returned the cup to the saucer. “Crow?”

“Hmm?” I kept looking at the paper.

“I want to talk to you.”

I shut the newspaper, knowing she wanted my full attention. I crossed my leg over my knee and looked at her, waiting to see what she had to say.

She was still a little upset from our conversation the night before. She was more timid, more quiet. “You asked me to make some promises because they’re important to you. Well, I have a request for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“When you slapped me…that wasn’t okay.”

A sudden wave of guilt swept over me. Now that my anger was completely gone, I felt like shit for losing my temper. I’d never hit her like that in my life. I didn’t treat her so badly even when she was just my prisoner. She instilled so much rage inside me that I didn’t know what to do with it. I’d let my temper get the best of me, and I launched into an attack I should have controlled. I’d slapped her before, but she wasn’t my wife at the time—and I didn’t hit her as hard. Now that we were married, it felt innately wrong.

“I never want you to touch me like that again.”

I could justify my actions, but that wasn’t appropriate. She knew exactly why I’d hit her. I didn’t need to remind her. There was no excuse that I could give to pardon myself for the crime I committed. If she meant nothing to me, that would be one thing. But I gave this woman my name, decided to spend the rest of my life with her.

My actions were wrong.

And I knew it. “It won’t happen again, Button.”

“You promise?”

I looked her in the eye before I nodded. “I promise.”

Maybe she thought that was going to be a longer conversation because she kept staring at me. Her mood didn’t change at all, so maybe my promise wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, Button.”

Her discomfort slowly disappeared, the old Button coming back. She straightened in her chair as her unease died away.

“I shouldn’t have done that. You’re my wife…and I shouldn’t treat my wife that way.” I was man enough to admit when I was wrong, to admit the error of my ways. I’d never loved a woman before, never proclaimed to be a gentle man. But if I was going to share my life with this woman, I had to place her on a pedestal where she belonged. It didn’t matter how much she hurt me. I would always respect her—because she deserved it. “I hope you can forgive me. I love you more than anything in this world.”

She reached across the table and placed her hand on mine. “I know you do.”

5

Cane

I used to enjoy work. I liked making money, making weapons, and being in charge. I handled most of our clients and their needs, and I was in charge of manufacturing. I’d hire the best engineers to come in and design the best weapons to put on the market. It wasn’t the most meaningful job in the world—but I liked it.

But now I hated it.

Every second I was at work, I was away from her.