Page 106 of The Vow

His lip twitched. “Because I’ve already ruined one pair of pants just from a taste of your touch.”

My lips parted, thinking back to the night he’d been injured. Shivers wove a web of goose bumps over my skin, my nipples pebbling even tighter.

“Fuck.” Air hissed through the tight seam of his lips, the effect he’d had on my body not going unnoticed by his.

Still, that didn’t explain what I’d felt…all those ridges…and they weren’t metal. I was well aware of the various kinds of hardware a man could have; my adopted brothers and the rest of their unit had all subjected themselves to the different kinds of genital piercings, so I’d heard about the various options. But this wasn’t that. This was still all Damon…and yet not right.

Which made me think he’d been hurt—maimed.

I was under no delusions not only about the things my husband had done to build his criminal empire but also all the things he’d endured. The injuries. The torture. What if someone had…I pressed my hand to my throat like I could choke out the thought.

“Robyn,” he croaked, regret lancing his expression.

“What happened to you?”

I followed the fall of his hands to the waist of his pants, his fingers stilling on the metal clasp of his belt.

“It was torture without you, Robber,” he began, sliding the leather strap through the buckle. “I didn’t… I never had anyone before you. You were a part of me, and then you were gone.” He drew the belt through the loops and let it clatter to the floor. “And while I searched for you…I started to lose my mind. I didn’t want anyone else. I could never…want anyone else.”

A quake ruptured through him as he flicked open the button of his pants, the fabric instantly stretching, the teeth of his zipper straining to be unlocked.

“When I realized what it would take to become… who I am, I knew I needed to do something to prove my loyalty.”

“Loyalty?” My brows jammed together. “To whom?”Who would require maiming that part as a sign of loyalty?

“You.” The word tumbled from his perfect lips. “I needed to do something to prove my faithfulness to you.”

What?

Guilt prodded my tongue with bitterness. All the rumors I’d heard about his exploits, they’d been chiseled into the gravestone already marking the death of his fidelity and our marriage, a vow I’d assumed he’d broken when he left with Sandrine.

It was easy to stand here now and say I would’ve believed him. But if things hadn’t gone the way that they did, if he’d returned by some other means at some other time, would I truly have believed all those rumors were lies? Would I—would anyone—be able to truly believe he’d been faithful for fifteen years?

“Damon,” I breathed out, but my lungs felt incapable of replenishing themselves, the vacant cavities burning for only the answers he was about to give.

The silence trembled with only the croak of his zipper flaying apart, the fabric breathing wide in relief over the massive bulge of his flesh.

My mouth went dry as he hooked his thumbs under the waist of both his pants and boxer briefs and then shoved everything down. Time slowed, his bent body momentarily blocking everything from view. I should’ve braced myself then for what came next, but I had no idea what to expect, no idea what he’d done…how he’d harmed himself to prove…

The thought died with the sound strangled from my chest when he straightened.

My husband stood stark naked in front of me, and just like the rest of his impressive body that I recognized, though time and circumstance had left new marks, I also recognized the most impressive cock that I’d for a long time believed was a fuckup on God’s part to create a man who was both exquisitely handsome and unfathomably endowed.

It jutted outward from the nest of dark curls, hard and swollen, and so heavy it hung low under its own weight. The tip was a ruddy purple, dotted with a bead of moisture, and pulsing veins wrapped the shaft. But there was…more.

His cock was covered in…bumps. I didn’t know how else to describe what I saw. They weren’t metal or some other kind of piercing attached to his skin, but distinct circular bumps embedded underneath, distending his flesh. They made him look…inhuman.And sinful.Like his cock had been ribbed for maximum pleasure and penetration.

“What…I don’t…” My brain had officially fried.

“Remember how Pat told you how he saved me from a Japanese prison?” Damon’s expression was taut, his jaw firing rounds of tension like a well-oiled machine gun.

My head bobbed.

“While I was there, enjoying a not-so-warm welcome by some of the Yakuza inmates, I got my first lesson in some of their non-traditional gang customs. Specifically, the practice of Yakuza beading,” he said, flexing and then releasing his fist by his side. “The incarcerated Yakuza would…implant a glass bead for every year they served in prison.”

Every year.Instantly, my eyes narrowed to try and count the number of bumps I could see lining his swollen flesh.

“I had…bigger things to worry about at the time, but once Pat and I got out, once I realized what it would take…how long it could take to find you…” He trailed off, bearing down on his breathing to steady himself. “I began having a silicone bead inserted every six months.” His jaw flexed hard. “Six months is how long it takes for the site to heal before you can…”

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