Page 26 of Phobia
Something that had been bothering me since we left the museum.
When I didn’t accept her invitation, my wife made a sound of protest. “Don’t leave,” she complained, patting the empty warm spot behind her where I really wanted to be. “Quit smoking.”
I chuckled, lifting a brow at her sleepy form. “Are you telling me you’re going to let me put a baby inside of you, then?”
That was also part of our deal.
Her dad died of cancer when she was ten and it had changed her family’s lives irrevocably. Her older brother Sean had been forced to fill shoes he’d never wanted to fill to support his sisters and ma. It tore them apart.
Katrina didn’t want to have kids if I was going to emulate behaviors that were so reminiscent to her dad and I couldn’t fault her for that.
She deserved better, and so did whatever kids we had. So while I thought about knocking her up regularly, the conversation was tabled until she finished school.
Which gave me enough time to become the smoking cessation spokesperson.
Defeat swept over her pretty features, and she sighed, releasing the blanket, rolling over and giving me her bony back. The sheets had bunched at her waist, and she tugged the flat sheet to her chin.
I kissed her bare shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
“And I’ll be asleep.”
“It’s…” I glanced in the direction of the alarm clock on the dresser, craning my head behind the pile of her clothes. “Nine forty-five.”
Katrina was a night owl, and it was normally me trying to pull her away from whatever held her attention and telling her to come to bed.
“I’m tired and sore,” she mumbled, yawning. “You fucked me twice when we got home.”
Precisely the intention. Tire her out long enough for her to fall asleep so I could slip out of the house. I’d taken advantage of my sister working a shift at the drugstore tonight and forced my wife onto her hands and knees on the first three steps of our stairs, the riser biting into her hips while I drove myself inside of her. When she still seemed too alert, I took her once more in our bedroom just for good measure with the tip of a knife pressed against her chin until blood beaded there. I lapped away at the copper offering with my tongue while she came around my cock, her face contorting with pain and pleasure while she chanted,“No more. I can’t handle any more.”
Good. The endorphins and adrenaline crash meant the third fuck was the charm.
“I’ll be back,” I assured, the mattress creaking as I stood upright.
“Bring me back Sour Patch Kids.”
Of course, she was asking for candy. Her sweet tooth was unparalleled. We were within five feet of an empty box of Milk Duds and an open package of Skittles. Candy doubled as caffeine and melatonin to my wife. “I thought you said you’d be asleep.”
“Second wind,” she retorted around a yawn. “Quick power nap before I watchTrue Blood.”
Gritting my teeth, I plodded to the door, grousing inwardly. Fucking Eric Northman.
Dipping out of our bedroom, I shut the door behind me, passing my sister’s darkened bedroom, catching the silhouette of her college textbooks piled high on her desk. Saoirse was going to be a great doctor. I just wished there was more I could do, so she didn’t have to bleed herself of all her energy to make it happen.
While she’d never blame me for our parents’ dying before their time or the lengths I’d gone to retaliate, I knew some small part of her wondered how different our lives would be if I hadn’t done what I did. If I could have just let it go.
But I couldn’t let that go any more than I could the events of tonight. Katrina was too nosy on a good day, and I didn’t trust she wouldn’t demand to come if she knew what I was up to. I needed to do this on my own. I didn’t want to chance her getting caught with me or running into Mr. Tortured Artist when she inevitably wandered off on her own. Telling her to do anything was akin to trying to reason with a wasp not to sting you when you swatted it away.
Katrina was disobedient to a fault and curious. She did what she wanted, when she wanted.
Besides, I preferred collecting ammunition to use against people on my terms. It was better if she slept through this one.I’d get her up to speed if I needed to.
I hoped I didn’t need to.
“He blinked at me, Adam.”
Truth was, I hadn’t been able to get her words out of my head since she uttered them, no matter how skeptical I’d wanted to remain.
Even as I had led her out of the gallery room and taken one final look at the Founding Fathers, my attention lingered on the placard.
