Page 20 of Lethal Devotion
It’s not possible,I tell myself, striding toward the bathroom as I try to ignore the pounding throb in my dick.I need to stay as far away from her as I can, now that I’ve done what needs to be done in order to keep her safe.
I’ve seen what happens when men like me try to have normal relationships. Even men like Konstantin, the leaders of the families, rarely have marriages that involve love. Their marriages are all politics, alliances, and practicality. Konstantin did things differently, but then again, he’s done every goddamn thing differently since he was old enough to think for himself. I’ve seen other men in the organization, at all ranks, deal with the fallout of trying to have wives and families that they go home to at night. I’ve seen messy divorces, wives and children killed as retribution, men whose wives simply ran off when they couldn’t take it anymore. I’ve seen abuse and pain and hurt. It never works, and the darkness always wins. It always consumes anything that doesn’t belong beyond the boundary of the world we live in.
I don’t need to know anything more about Sienna than I do to know that she deserves better than that. That she deserves a life better than the one she already had, with someone who can care for her, treat her gently, give her a life of sunshine and beauty. Someone who hasn’t buried every emotion so deeply that they’re no longer accessible, someone without blood on his hands and a sea of bodies in his wake.
Butfuckif I don’t wish I could have her anyway.
I wrench the taps for the shower, letting the water heat up until it’s steaming, and then I step under the hot spray. I let it pound against my shoulders and back, washing away the blood and sweat and events of the night. I’ve never felt guilty about what I do, about the life that I lead, but there’s a weight to it all the same. I can wash the blood off my skin, but it sinks in deeper than that.
It washes away easily, like it always does, running down the drain in pink rivulets and then pink clusters of soap as I scrub myself, avoiding the still-throbbing length of my cock until the end. I can’t shake the image of Sienna half-naked in her bedroom, can’t wash it away so simply.She trusts me, I remind myself, gritting my teeth as my cock throbs mercilessly, my muscles tense, the most primal part of me insisting that I get out of the shower, go back down the hall, and fuck my new wife the way I should. That I take what’s rightfully mine.
She trusts me, but she’s afraid of me.If I exercise my power over her, if I fuck her even though she won’t feel like she can say no, then she’s right to be afraid of me. Every fear, every terrible thought she might have had about me, will be true.
The soapy water runs down my body, and my jaw tightens, my traitorous brain imagining that the sensation is her hands instead. She wouldn’t touch me like that—probably wouldn’t touch me at all, too afraid to do anything other than lie there while I hammered into her. But my mind wants to believe it, wants to imagine her delicate hands tracing the map of scars on my body, her tongue following, sliding down until she knelt in front of me, my cock huge in front of her delicate face and small mouth?—
Fuck. I can’t stop myself any longer. My hand goes down to my cock instinctively, wrapping around my thick, aching shaft as I let out a hiss of pleasure through my teeth. A moan escapes me as I run my hand up to the swollen, damp head and back down to the base, pressing my fist against my taut sac before sliding my hand up again.
I try to think about anything other than Sienna.Anything. The last porn I watched, a busty woman on her knees while a musclebound man jacked off onto her tits. The last woman I fucked, whose name and face I can’t even remember. One of the girls at that goddamned club who followed me around like she was desperate for me, who I recall promised me she’d drink my cum like a cocktail if I’d go to a back room with her.
I didn’t want her. I didn’t really want the woman at the bar that I went home with last, I was just horny and tense and wanted a release that wasn’t from my fist. But right now, there is someone that I want.
Just down the hall, vulnerable and unwilling to say no, waiting for me. Mywife…
I can’t stop the fantasy that forms in my head. Sienna, on her knees, those full lips parted as she struggles to take my cock in her mouth. That rich strawberry-blonde hair, wrapped around my hands as I slide my cock deeper, pushing into her throat. How good it would feel, warm and wet and tight around my aching length.
I close my eyes and groan, my hand moving faster as I bracemyself against the shower wall. The fantasy changes immediately. Now I can’t see anything other than Sienna bent over in front of me, braced against the same wall, the rest of her body bared to me and wet. I can picture what the slender curves of her ass looked like under those cutoff shorts, her skin tanned golden, more of those freckles trailing down her body. I can imagine the soft pink folds between her thighs, how good it would feel to push into her body, to feel her take too much cock for her slender figure, how tight she would be…
I’d make her come. I’d make her scream for me. I’d lick her to an orgasm before I fucked her, then play with her clit while I pounded her raw, nothing between us but skin as I sank into her soft, wet pussy again and again, making her take every inch until she screamed my name and I filled her up with my cum, left her dripping with it…
That thought, the image of my cum pearling white between Sienna’s delicate pink folds, dripping down her thighs as she gasped breathlessly in the wake of an earth-shattering orgasm, the thought of her clenching around my cock as I come inside of her, pushes me over the edge. I groan through clenched teeth as my fist tightens around my length, my cock throbbing almost painfully as I shoot jet after jet of thick, hot cum against the shower tiles.
It goes on for longer than it usually does, an orgasm so hard and volatile that it leaves me breathless. I slump forward, braced against the wall as my hand slides along my shaft, squeezing the last of my release from my swollen, aching cock as I pant and try to catch my breath.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Guilt slams through me in the aftermath, a feeling that I’m not well-acquainted with. She's been my wife for less than four hours, and I'm already losing my goddamn mind. Even if I could overcome every other objection I have to fucking her, she’s tooyoungfor me.
The fact that she has a child doesn’t change that. She can’t be more than twenty-two. She might not even be old enough to drink legally. At thirty-eight, I shouldn’t look twice at a woman her age. Certainly not one that I have this kind of power over. I press my forehead into the shower tiles, letting go of my cock as it softens,breathing hard as I try to wrestle the damning thoughts in my head back under control.
Sienna is my wife. But she’s notmine. Not in that way…and she never will be.
I need to keep my hands off of her and my thoughts clean, and if they veer off into fantasy again, I need to put a stop to it. If I have to jerk off twice a day to keep myself in check, that’s what I’ll do, but this can’t happen again.
I can’t want her like this. I shouldn’t.
I wash myself again, scrubbing my hair clean until there’s not a speck of blood or gunpowder residue left on me, and then I shut off the water, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist. A glance in the mirror tells me I look like shit—dark circles under my eyes, tension lines around my mouth. I need to fucking sleep.
But I can still feel the adrenaline buzzing in my veins, and knowing that Sienna is just down the hall isn’t helping.
I stride out of the bathroom, heading to the bar cart in the corner of my room, where I keep a private stash of alcohol next to my leather armchair. There’s a bookshelf against the wall on the other side and a television on the wall across the room, and it makes for a nice, relaxing, private nook to sequester myself away when I’m in need of it. I pour myself two fingers of whiskey, drop into the armchair, and toss it back before pouring two more. It burns all the way down, but it helps to clear my head—of everything except my inconvenient wife.
I can’t forget the look on her face. She expected me to take her. Exploit her. Use her. To make her a commodity, to utilize the power I have over her. And despite the disgust that I feel at the thought, my traitorous cock rises again, stiffening at the thought of doing just that.
I toss back the bourbon as I jerk my towel open, wrapping my hand around my already rock-hard shaft for the second time in twenty minutes. I’ve never had much of a refractory period, but I can’t recall the last time I was likethis. I’m as hard as if I hadn’t come in weeks, stiff and throbbing, and I groan as I stroke my length, sipping the whiskey as I push myself toward a second climax. Once again, I can’t shake the fantasy of Sienna, of her in my lap, straddlingme as I sink her down onto my cock, fucking her in between sips of alcohol.
The image of her leaning in to kiss me with that full mouth, her tongue sliding against mine as I spit the alcohol between her lips, sends me over the edge for a second time. The orgasm hits me abruptly, nearly making me choke on my drink as my cock swells and throbs. I barely manage to jerk my towel over my lap in time to catch the hot spurts of cum as I groan, my head tipping back, the glass loose in my fingers as I come hard.
When the last spurts spill onto the towel, I reach over, pouring myself a third drink. As I drink it in two large gulps, the exhaustion hits me all at once.
