Page 40 of His Brother's Wife
His arms had tightened around her, and his kiss had been fierce and full of passion. “I can’t wait, Amalia, myPrincipessa.As far as I’m concerned, I’m already your husband.”
If only that were true, Ama thought miserably as she dressed for a ‘romantic’ dinner with the monster who was legally her husband. She pulled on the lingerie he had bought her absentmindedly, then changed the dressing on her wound. She hoped the antibiotics would kick in soon. At least a decent meal would do her good.
She was ready when Jackson arrived, followed by one of his guards pushing in a trolley loaded with covered plates. The guard left immediately, and Jackson locked the door.
He looked her up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.”
Ama gave him a half-smile, trying to make it look genuine. “The dress is lovely. Thank you, Jackson.”
He beamed. “See how much nicer things are when we are civil? Please sit, Ama, and I will serve.”
She sat down obediently, and Jackson put a covered plate in front of her. He made a flourish as he pulled the cover off, but then laughed—almost a giggle, like a naughty school boy. A small handgun sat on the plate. “Oh, silly me, wrong plate.” He leaned in so his face was next to hers and Ama tried not to cringe away from him. “That’s what I’ll use on you if you do anything—anything—to displease me during this dinner, darling. You’ll get three and your sister will get the other three. Now, can you promise me we will have a good time tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Louder.”
She met his gaze. “Yes,Jackson.”You had better pray I don’t get my hands on that gun, Jackson, because if I do, you’ll wish you’d never been born.She gave him a wide smile and kissed him lightly.
Jackson drew back, smiling. “Good.” He tucked the gun into the back of his waistband and swapped the plates over. This time, when he lifted the cover, Ama nearly swooned at the smell of the food underneath. A perfectly cooked T-bone steak oozing with garlic butter, a baked potato, and some lightly-cooked vegetables. Despite her fear and anger, Ama’s mouth filled with saliva. Jackson seemed pleased at her reaction. He sat at the opposite end of the table while they ate, the handgun resting next to his hand.
The food was good and Ama suddenly realized she was starving. Jackson poured them some red wine and Ama sipped it. She wondered if she should, given the tablets the doctor had sent for her, but she would do anything to get through this.
She started to feel strange as they finished their entrees. Her head was swirling. Too much wine? As she picked at the fruit salad Jackson had given her for dessert, she started to feel out of it completely.Maybe I’m just exhausted,she thought, but her skin felt like it was on fire.
Jackson was watching her carefully. “Something wrong, darling?” His grin was wide.
Ama started to stand, knocking her wine glass to the floor. “Jackson …did you put something in my drink?”
He laughed. “Just a little something to relax you, Ama. Don’t worry, it won’t harm you. Just make things go a little smoother between us.”
Her vision was blurry. “Jackson …I don’t feel so good …”
She stumbled toward the bathroom, but Jackson caught her in his arms. “It’s okay, darling. Just relax into it.”
She felt herself being carried to the bed, then her skin felt cool as Jackson peeled the dress from her. “Just pretend I’m my bastard brother, Ama …” His voice sounded far away and her limbs felt like liquid.
When Jackson’s cock thrust into her, she was barely conscious, but still, the rocking motion and the smell of him made her want to throw up.Play your role. Don’t forget he holds all the cards here. Say his name.
“Jackson,” she whispered and heard his satisfied chuckle.
“Good, good …now, Ama, this is only the beginning of the evening. I have a surprise for you.”
Ama was so out of it, by the time Jackson had cum, she barely felt him pull her up into his arms and carry her from the room, draped only in the bed sheet. He strode down the hallway with her, and before Ama could try and see where he was taking her, he was walking into a darkened room. “We’re going to have some different kind of fun tonight, my darling.”
He set her down onto what felt like a wooden bench, then adjusted the lighting. Ama, blinking to try and wake herself up, felt a jolt of shock go through her. From the ceilings, hung chains with cuffs on the end. A large, wooden bed with stocks and St. Andrew’s Cross stood at the other end of the room. On one wall, whips, paddles, restraints, and harnesses hung from hooks. On another, a huge flat screen T.V. On a credenza under the T.V., knives lay out.
Oh god, someone help me.
It was a bondage room, but it had Jackson’s twist on it. It wasn’t a place of experimentation, of BDSM, or of loving adventure, but a torture chamber. He wanted her humiliated, scared, and in fear of her life. That’s what turned Jackson on.
She looked back at him, and his face was alive with desire and triumph.
“Before you left me for the bastard,” he said. “I was planning to have this built in our home—after Dad had passed, obviously. Eventually, after the two years were up and you were going to leave me, I would have brought you here for one last time. One last time before I killed you. I was never going to accept you leaving me, Ama. You know that now, right?”
Barely conscious and terrified, she nodded. Jackson took her in his arms. “Now, there are two ways this evening could go. One…you try to enjoy it and make me happy, and you live. Your sister lives. The other …” He nodded to the case of knives. “I useallof them on you. They won’t even bother to count the stab wounds, Ama, I swear to you. I’ll take my time, and you will know what hell feels like.”
“Why?” Ama said now, her voice barely more than a whisper, “Why me? Why all of this just for me? Why did you try and kill Inca too?”
