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Nineteen
Brennan
I wasn’tsure what was going on in my head, was well aware that the brain between my legs was taking control, and because it had been too long since I’d allowed that to happen, and because she was my wife, I saw no harm in it.
She knew why she was here.
I’d given her the chance to leave.
She hadn’t taken it.
Whether she’d come to regret it would be another matter entirely, and something I’d deal with in the future.
I meant it when I’d uttered my vows.
There would be no breaking them.
This was it.
For the both of us.
Having recognized Conor’s ringtone, I knew I didn’t really have time to dick around. He didn’t call unless it was strictly necessary, preferring to text over speaking on the phone, but for the moment, he could wait.
I’d been my family’s fixer for too long if they thought I’d drop everything just because they rang at the drop of a hat.
When I maneuvered her into my,ourbedroom, I was well aware that nothing was going as I’d planned.
I was going to have sex with her to get her with child.
Now?
I wanted the exact opposite.
Just the thought of this woman, this fuckingQueen, degrading herself with a bunch of dirty bikers fucked me up like little else could.
What the hell had her father done to her to make that seem like the best option out there?
It made no sense to me, but it didn’t have to. I was the one who’d have to revert ingrained behaviors, and luckily for her, I was man enough for the task.
I took her straight into the bathroom, and told her, “Press both those switches.”
She did as I asked, which had the magic window turning on, clearing the glass like it was a smokescreen so we could see straight into the bedroom. Mostly, I just wanted the extra light, because I hated how bright it was in here with the lights on. Next, the waterfall shower turned on. I placed her on the ground, let her get her balance before I started to strip her down.
The evening dress clung to every inch of her too-thin body, and prying it off was like how it would be in a few months whenever she tried to get me off her.
Impossible.
I was going to be in her every which way I could. She didn’t really know what she’d triggered in me, and I couldn’t even tell you what the fuck it was in particular.
The pathetic misery in her eyes when she spoke of her sisters, the fact she’d killed her father with a pyramid souvenir—something I’d gleaned from Maxim—that I had a blood-soaked dress in a shopping bag to take to The Hole, the way she constantly sought relief in pain by squeezing her hands into fists...
Tick them all, tick none.
It could have been that I wanted in her cunt like I’d wanted no other pussy for a while.
It could be that I was fulfilling a promise while also making it my own.
Or it could just be that she was mine.
