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Chapter Six
“What the fuck where you thinking?” I asked my wife as I pulled her out of the disgusting frat party and towards the car that I had double parked.
“Let me go,” she said. I felt her struggling against me, but all I did was tighten my hand around her upper arm. I said nothing. I was too fucking mad. When I returned home, I hadn’t expected not to see her in her bedroom.
For a moment, I had considered that something might have happened to her until my security informed me that my wife had left the house of her own accord at ten o’clock at night in a pink miniskirt that showed off her creamy legs.
I shoved Sasha in the car not caring about hurting her.
“Are you going to say anything?” she asked. She hiccupped a little bit, and I gripped the steering wheel in anger.
“You smell like a brewery.”
“I do not,” she said, but I noticed that she discreetly sniffed herself. “I spilled a beer on myself.”
I felt my anger growing, but I kept quiet. I needed to focus on driving, so that I didn’t kill us.
“How did you even know where to find me?” she asked.
I continued keeping my mouth shut, and I wished that Sasha would follow my lead. I sped through the streets of Manhattan as best as I could. Even at one in the morning, there was still a great deal of traffic to navigate.
Sasha sighed and fell back into her seat. “You are being ridiculous,” she said.
I had had enough. Keeping my eyes on the road, I reached out and grabbed Sasha’s exposed thigh. “You broke one of my rules,” I told her, my voice low.
“I went out with friends,” she said. I could feel her squirming under my fingers, and I just tightened them.
“Who gave you permission for that?” I asked.
Sasha snorted, which was not the reaction that I had anticipated. I was learning more and more about my wife as the days passed. Sometimes Sasha seemed like a meek little mouse, and other times, she grew a backbone. I wasn’t interested in that Sasha right now. I wanted a wife who would listen and do as she was told. I didn’t have time to deal with this.
“I didn’t realize that you would be playing the role of my father,” Sasha snapped.
At the mention of her father, I could feel my rage growing. I slithered my way up Sasha’s leg not ignoring the way her muscles stiffened.
“Don’t ever compare me to your father,” I said. My voice was low and hardly showed the anger that I was feeling. I had other ways of showing Sasha how she royally fucked up.
She snorted. I knew that she was trying to portray a sense of courage, and I suspected that she was aided by whatever she had drunk, but I wasn’t going to allow her to disrespect me.
“You and my father have a lot in common,” she said. “You both like to control the things around you.”
Her words pissed me off, but I said nothing. I would show Sasha that her place in my life. A lesson I hadn’t expected to show her so soon.
I continued sliding my hand up her leg in silence, ignoring the way her muscles tensed as I got to the edge of her panties. I could feel the edge of the soft lace where it met her skin.
“What are you doing?” she asked. I gripped her thigh as she tried to squirm away from me.
“Stay still,” I ordered.
Sasha immediately listened just as I had expected. Sasha might have enjoyed a few hours of rebellion, but in her heart of hearts, I knew that she was a good girl who ultimately wanted to please.
“You are going to crash the car,” she said, leaning on practicality.
I slipped my finger into her panties and found her much wetter than I expected. “Was this for him?” I asked, recalling the all-American frat boy who had practically been salivating over her at the party.
“What?” she breathed out. Sasha had been a virgin just twenty-four hours ago, and her innocence was showing as I slipped my finger across her clit.
“Did that boy’s attention make you wet?” I asked again. “Or do you just like the feeling of my finger on you?”
