**Isabella**
We were settled at the dinning table for dinner, and let me tell you, I was aching down there. My whole body was on fire, and there was nothing I could do to quench it because my bloody husband refused to give me permission to even jerk off.
I sighed, digging into my plate of mac and cheese with the utmost disinterest. Razor was at the head of the table eating while his men, Dean and Chris, briefed him about today's issue or whatever. Across from me, Cross sat quietly eating his food. He had returned from his uncle's house hours ago at noon.
I tried to communicate with him via eye contact, but he refused to look up, solely concentrating on his food. I'd give anything to know if he actually went clubbing. I've missed partying, smoking, and drinking alcohol. I couldn't even dare to do or mention any of these things to Razor; I'm certain if I did, he'd beat my ass.
