The Devious Husband: Sierra and Xavier’s Story (The Windsors)

Sierra is quiet as she kisses her grandmother goodnight, and we both watch as one of her live-in nurses gently escorts her to bed. “Thank you for tonight,” Sierra says, turning toward me when her grandmother’s bedroom door falls closed. “I really appreciate it.”

She sounds so polite, so distant. It’s more than I deserve, and I know it. “Like I said, it was no inconvenience at all.” If anything, it was as close to perfect as it gets these days, because our attempts to put up an act also allowed me to quieten my recurring invasive thoughts.

Sierra nods and gestures toward the staircase, and I follow her silently, my heart constricting painfully. She looks tired, and I wish I could pull her back into my arms the way I did before we walked into the house. Having her lay her head on my chest like that rebuilt hopes that had slowly crumbled with each nightmare, each attempt to look at her and see our current reality, and not the potential futures my mind keeps pushing on me.

The edges of my lips tug up when we walk into what can only be described as a princess’s room, and she seems bashful as she looks around, seemingly seeing it through fresh eyes. “It’s not really what you’re used to, I’m sure, but it’s only for a night.”

I look around, taking in the plush carpets, the shades of lilac and pink, and the white four-poster that’s far smaller than I’m used to. “It’s cute,” I tell her, pulling my tie loose.

“I’ll grab you some of my brothers’ clothes. I think you’re probably most similar to Ares in size, right? Raven likes being prepared for any scenario, so she keeps enough clothes here for us all, most of it brand new. I should be able to find you something.”

I nod and throw her a grateful smile that she doesn’t return, and I watch her walk away, my heart in tatters. It’s fucking killing me to stand here, knowing I lost the best thing that ever happened to me. She has no idea how badly I want to see her smile, how much I miss the smell of her hair. Every time I try to tell her how I feel, I’m overcome with visions of her bound to that chair, bleeding, dying, and the words just fade away.

I run a hand through my hair and turn to take a look at her bedroom, only to pause by her dresser. My heart twists painfully when I find photos of her with Graham scattered all over it. In some of them, they’re kids, and in others, they look like teenagers that were dating. I bite down on my lip harshly as I pick up one that looks to be a prom photo, the two of them dressed up in matching outfits. I tried not to pay attention to them getting closer again during meetings, and I tried not to notice when he made her laugh, telling myself I was overthinking it, but maybe I wasn’t. Maybe she got tired of waiting for someone who never deserved her in the first place.

“Here you go,” Sierra says, and I turn around, the photo slipping out of my hand. She glances at it, her expression unreadable as she hands me a towel and a change of clothes, all of it still in its plastic wrapping. I’m not sure what I expected, but I didn’t think she’d pick the picture up, only to stare at it with a nostalgic smile before hiding her photos away in a drawer with a sigh. She makes no excuses, gives me no explanations, and it fucking hurts to know I’m not entitled to them anymore.

I knew she’d fall out of love with me if I couldn’t give her what she needs, and I thought I’d braced myself for it, made peace with it, so why does it hurt so fucking much? I draw a shaky breath and walk toward her bathroom, my thoughts a mess.

Sierra’s bedroom is empty when I walk out wearing a pair of brand new RWC boxers that are far too tight for me, and I sigh as I pull on the waistband before getting into her bed. She looks surprised when she walks in wearing a large black t-shirt that isn’t mine, clearly having used a different bathroom. Her eyes roam over my chest and abs, and I’m reminded of the countless times I’ve waited for her in bed like this in an attempt to seduce her.

“I guess the pajamas didn’t fit,” she says, looking away. There was a time when her eyes would linger without her even realizing, and her cheeks would flush so fucking beautifully, her reluctant desire written all over her face. To be wanted by her was one of the highlights of my life, and I wish I’d savored the experience more.

Sierra gets into bed with me, her body tensing when her arm brushes against mine. “I’m sorry,” she says, trying to create a bit of space between us and failing, when I wish she’d just roll over and lay her head on my chest, like she always used to. “I always thought this was such a huge bed, but you—” She snaps her lips shut and sighs. “I’ll try to stay on my own side of the bed, but just wake me up if I do anything in my sleep that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Like what?” I ask, turning onto my side to face her.

Her eyes roams over my face, lingering on my mouth, before they travel down. “Like if I accidentally hug you in my sleep, or if I touch you anywhere that—” She clears her throat, her expression pained. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage of this situation. I know you don’t want to be here.”

There’s so much she doesn’t know, so much she’ll never know. “I do want to be here,” I tell her, my voice soft, my words springing forth without conscious thought.

“Right,” she says, studying me for a moment before she turns and reaches over, switching off the lights.

I lie back, taking comfort in the feeling of her shoulder pressing against mine, the sound of her steady breathing, and the sweet scent of her shampoo. Sierra shifts away a little, clearly trying to find a way to get comfortable without touching me, and I desperately wish things hadn’t changed between us.

“Come here,” I tell her, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her half on top of me, the way she always used to sleep. She gasps when I move a little, until her head lies on my chest, and fuck if it isn’t the biggest thrill to have her so close again.

“Is this… is this okay?” she whispers.

I hum and wrap my hand around her waist, my heart skipping a beat when I realize her t-shirt has ridden up. “It’s a small bed, Sierra. Let’s just sleep the way we always do.” She shifts a little more, moving a little closer, and I bite down on my lip when she throws her leg over me, the way she used to. I notice the exact moment the realizes that I’m rock hard, and she becomes impossibly still, but she doesn’t move her leg away. I hesitate for a split second, before grabbing her thigh and holding her the way I’ve been dreaming of, before my nightmares took over.

She squirms just a little, her nose brushing against my throat, and I draw a shaky breath. “This t-shirt,” I murmur, sliding my hand further up her back, underneath it. “Whose is it?” It’s an odd thing to be upset about, given our circumstances, but her wearing my t-shirts has always been our thing, and the thought of her wearing another man’s t-shirt while she’s lying in my arms hurts more than I expected — even if it is one of her brothers’s.

I expected her to throw some snark my way or refuse to answer, but she merely sighs. “It’s Dion’s.”

“The fabric feels rough. You should take it off,” I say without thinking, and I instantly berate myself for my inability to just keep my goddamn mouth shut and my jealousy at bay. Just as I’m sure she’s chosen to ignore my words, she pushes against my chest and kneels, before grabbing my hand and placing it on the hem of Dion’s t-shirt. She looks at me, and there is no way in hell I could possibly ignore the quiet plea in her eyes, the hope.

She bites down on her lip when I sit up, our eyes locking as I push the fabric up. Sierra raises her arms for me, and my breath hitches when I pull her t-shirt over her head, my eyes roaming over her perfect body. My wife looks at me with so much vulnerability in her eyes, and it’s too much for me to take, too much to resist.

I groan as I thread my hand into her hair and grab her, covering her body with mine as I push her down. She gasps in the moments before my lips meet hers, and then she’s kissing me back, one of her hands wrapping into my hair while the other roams over my back.

“God, Sierra,” I groan, moving my lips to her neck, unable to hold back. She moans when I suck down on her sensitive skin, marking her as mine. It’s juvenile, but I can’t fucking help myself as I move down to her breast and do it all over again, leaving clear evidence of tonight.

“Missed this,” she breathes when I suck down on her nipple, her spine arching as he pushes against my mouth harder. I’m impatient, desperate, and she lifts her hips for me eagerly when I reach for her panties, needing them off.

“Tell me this is still mine,” I whisper as I move back on top of her and reach between us, my fingers trailing over her pussy.

“Always,” she moans, and I reward her by teasing her clit, loving how quickly she got wet, how she’s soaking my hand. She moves her hips against my hand, her movements tinged with desperation, and it drives me completely fucking wild. I get her close, and then I pull away, earning myself the neediest little whimper.

I push down my boxers in a rush, and her head falls back when I drag my cock against her pussy, the feel of her nearly undoing me. “Yes,” she urges, and my lips find hers as I push in a fraction, only to pull out again, dragging my cock over her clit in the process. I continue to tease her like that, pushing slightly deeper in every time, and within minutes I’ve got her panting, her muscles flexing around my throbbing cock. “Please,” she begs. “Please.”

I groan and kiss her as I increase the pace, pushing against her clit harder, taking her deeper, until her breathing begins to accelerate, and her legs begin to tremble. “That’s it, baby,” I whisper against her mouth, not letting up. “Come for your husband, Kitten.”

She moans loudly as I push her over the edge. “Xavier,” she begs, and I fuck her with hard, deep strokes, my control slipping as her bed slams against the wall, over and over again, her name on my lips when I come deep, deep inside her. “Fuck,” I groan, lightheaded as I collapse on top of her, my body coated in sweat.

She wraps her arms around me and holds me tightly, and I press my lips against her neck, my heart still racing. We lie together like that for longer than I’d intended, not a single part of me ready to let her go.

“Xavier?” she says eventually, her voice sounding sleepy. “Is it true that you asked my grandmother for my hand in marriage?”

I take a deep, steadying breath as I contemplate my answer, before settling on the truth. “Yes.”

“Do you regret it?”