Page 41 of His Prince

That night, Mikhail doesn’t come to bed while I’m tucked in and reading. He appears sometime in the middle of the night, tension in the air as my eyelids peel open. I’m groggy from sleep, but still, I canfeelit.

He shucks his clothes and crawls onto the bed, my body sliding slightly toward his as the mattress dips.

“You okay?” I ask, regretting it as soon as the words exit my mouth. I don’t want him to think I care.

Because I don’t.

“It’s been a long day,” he finally says after what seems like minutes of waiting for a response.

I hear the sound of a cap being flicked open and a sigh as Mikhail starts to jerk himself off.

Honestly, this man.

I’m glad I took scissors to his clothes.

“You couldn’t do that somewhere else?” I ask, and he huffs.

“I could, but I won’t.”

I listen to his wet hand rubbing his slick cock. The sound is different from the other night, almost louder. I can’tnotlisten.

“You have very bad manners,” I murmur, and he huffs.

“I never said I was polite.”

“You’re not. You’re the rudest.”

“You married me,” he retorts, and I bite my lip so hard it nearly bleeds.

“It’s because youtrickedme.”

“Oh, my little Angel. I’ve never lied to you.”

I roll my eyes so hard it makes my head hurt.

His hand slows and then something bumps my arm. “Here.”

“I’m not getting off with you.”

He turns his head, and I can make out the features of his face in the moonlight.

“You used to like getting off with me.”

“Notwith. Never with. I was alone in that.” I can feel his gaze burning into me so I add, “I wish I never did that.”

His hand stops moving entirely, and I turn away from him, pulling out my phone and staring at it, a picture of my garden back home.

I stare at it for so long that the colors start to blur, tears forming in my eyes.

A moment later, I hear the stroking start back up andrage fills me once more. I pull up a death metal playlist on my phone and blast it.

I can’t hear the stroking over the noise, my brain rattling from the percussion and guitar riffs.

“Turn that off,” Mikhail says, but I just turn it up louder.

The tears that were forming in my eyes are gone now, replaced by heated anger.

The bed shifts and my phone is wrenched from my hands and the music shuts off. I gasp, struggling to grab it back, but Mikhail is pressed up against me, the phone tossed onto the floor, hitting it with a soft thud.