The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

“Cat,” Xavier’s voice sliced through the hush of the dim room. Cathleen jolted awake, her arms cradling Bella, the warmth of her daughter a stark contrast to the chill in his tone.

Her eyes, wide and alert, flickered between the baby’s serene face and the imposing figure of her husband. She brushed away sleep, the lullaby dying on her lips. “Oh, I didn’t know I fell asleep,” she murmured her voice a soft anchor in the tense air.

“Yeah, I can see.” Xavier’s words were edged with impatience as he loomed closer, his shadow swallowing the gentle glow of the nightlight. “But you are spending so much time with Bella that you can’t put her down. You do know she’s not going anywhere, right?”

The nod was automatic-a simple bob of her head-but her mind raced. His presence commanded her attention; his frustration was palpable, filling the space like a thick fog.

“Then why are you not performing your wifely duties to me?” Xavier’s question hung heavy, his gaze dropping pointedly to the bulge straining against his pants. “It needs attention.”

A smile curled the corners of Cathleen’s lips, a fusion of defiance and desire. She rose gracefully from the swing chair and placed Bella in the crib, safe from the storm brewing between her parents.

She closed the distance between them, her fingertips trailing a path over the intense line of Xavier’s arousal. “I didn’t take you for a jealous type, Mr. Knight,” she teased, her grip firm and unyielding.

“Well, since you are whining,” she taunted, lowering herself with her knees, and kissing the floorboards. Her hand remained a vice around him, the damp fabric a testament to his need.

Cathleen’s touch was deliberate, her fingers dancing provocatively, igniting sparks beneath the surface. She nipped at him through his pants, a promise of what lay beyond their current game. Her smile widened, feral, as she backed away, leaving a trail of heat in her wake.

“Follow me, Jealous Boy.” The challenge was an open one, and Xavier couldn’t deny that he was so turned on.

Xavier’s laughter was a low rumble, a predator enticed by the scent of his prey. He followed, every step a thunderous pulse in the quiet corridor.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him, a resounding declaration of the shift from public to private. Cathleen’s body hit the mattress with calculated abandon; her limbs spread in an offering that was both a taunt and an invitation.

“I think…” Her voice trailed off as she twisted, arching her back to present herself to him. She knew the effect she had-every curve was a siren call.

“It’s high time we have a playroom, don’t you think, Mr. Knight?” The words hung thick in the charged air; her gaze locked on his then dropped to his hardened cock. She rolled onto the bed, and her ass was now on full display.

Xavier could only watch, throat tight, as Cathleen continued to roll seductively on the bed-the soft flesh of her ass was a deliberate provocation. His pulse thundered in his ears, the desire coiling tightly within him.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, the word barely a whisper. “If you can act like this with me every day, I will give you anything you want, Mrs. Knight.”

“Anything?” Cathleen pressed, her eyes glinting with a wicked edge.

“Anything.” The promise left his lips before reason could reclaim it.

“Then tie me. Spank me. Make me kneel. I will only obey you if we have that playroom.” Her demand sliced through the tension, a blade poised at the heart of his control.

“Shit!” Xavier cursed under his breath, the weight of his hasty vow settling heavy on his shoulders.

“Today too?” He managed to choke out the words, a mix of dread and anticipation swirling in his gut.

“Especially today. No more pretending, Mr. Knight. I want the Dom, not the husband who holds back.” Her defiance was a challenge, and her desire for his dominance was clear in her steady gaze.

“Are you sure?” Xavier found himself asking, even as part of him reeled at her audacity.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

“Did you hesitate in Miami?” She shot back, the memory of past pain flickering across her face before it hardened into resolve.

“Fair enough.” A wicked smile curled Xavier’s lips as he conceded, a dark thrill rushing through him. “We’ll be on one page, Cat.”

He approached the bed, his movements deliberate and predatory. Seating himself beside her, he took her hands in his, the contrast of his rough skin against hers a silent testament to the complexities of their union.

“Understand this,” he murmured, his grip firm. “You’re mine to command.” His voice was a low growl, promising that the games they played would bear consequences neither of them could yet foresee. His gaze pierced through the dim light of the bedroom, locking into Cathleen’s eyes. His voice was like gravel, rough around the edges but firm in intent. “If you don’t understand something about me, ask me, and I will do the same,” he said, his fingers tightening around hers, anchoring her to the moment.

“Same goes for you.” The words were a decree, a bridge over the chasm that had formed between them.

The silence hung heavy, filled with unspoken questions and veiled truths. It was a standoff of wills; their connection was fraught with an electric charge.

“I want this,” he continued, the raw edge of vulnerability breaking through his normally impenetrable facade. “Not just the sex, Cat. I want a home. With you.” Then he went on, “I don’t want this marriage to be about sex; I want a home with you, Cat; I want this to work; and the shares you bought behind my back, keep them; what is mine is yours.”

Cathleen’s breath hitched, her eyes wide as saucers, reflecting the storm brewing within. She swallowed hard, her throat working against the truth that clawed its way up. “Xavier… I did it to spite you.” Her confession cut through the air, sharp and unyielding.

A muscle twitched in Xavier’s jaw. “I know,” he replied, his voice laced with the sting of betrayal yet softened by a strange tenderness. “You’re my wife, Cat. We’re a goddamn team.”

His words hung between them, a challenge and a promise all at once. Slowly, he leaned forward, his forehead nearly touching hers. “Can we conquer this fucked-up world together, Mrs. Knight?”

She stared into his eyes, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within her. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

“Good.” He released one hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle yet charged with possession. “Because what’s mine is yours, and there’s no backing out now.”

“Understood, Mr. Knight,” she whispered, sealing their pact with words that bore more weight than any contract ever could.