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Lust, he said.
Anger.
Obsession.
Not love, but that’s okay. I can love him enough for both of us—and when Link spends the next two weeks after his big illustration growing more and more distant from me, I have to.
It starts out by his missing dinner once or twice. He’s busy. Busier than normal, from the snippets of conversation I pick up, listening in on his conversations with whatever Sinner he has watching over me. Even Mona notices it, assuring me that Link is in the middle of something.
Fine.
But when I go an entire night without him, only waking up as he slipped, exhausted and fully-dressed, into our bed at six-thirty in the morning, I begin to think his obsession with me is fading.
He doesn’t initiate. It’s the first time since he took me in Judge Callihan’s bathroom that he doesn’t at least hold me close; when I was on my period and didn’t feel like sex, he snuggled, stealing gentle kisses all night long while holding the heating pad in place to ease my cramps.
I thought he’d be pissed that he didn’t knock me up, but he wasn’t. He just smiled and said, “That’s just more time I get with only you, my Ava.”
MyAva…
I stopped being his ‘pet’ after he brought me to the Playground to introduce me to the Sinners. I’m his Ava—even if I’m not so sure he’s my Link anymore.
And that’s assuming he everwas…
The next night, Link is home by ten. Knowing that that means he’ll be gone as soon as I fall asleep, I wait for him to come to bed beforeIinitiate this time.
I have before. It took me a few nights to get used to his appetite, and for it to trigger something in my own. The way I saw it, if he expected my duty as his wife was to be available to sleep with him whenever he wanted me to, I might as well get as much pleasure out of his rugged, brawler’s body as I can.
I do that night. Instead of laying back on the pillows, letting Link worship me with his mouth like he loves to do, I take a firm grasp on his erection, steering him right where I want him. As soon as I have him there, I smile to see the hungry look on his face, the way his tongue darts out, licking his bottom lip as he rises up on his elbows, watching as I crawl between his legs.
And then, taking a page of his book, I show him how much he’s mine with actions instead of words.
Link loves to watch me suck his dick. He always has. For as long as we’ve been intimate, he’s never treated the act like it was something he owed. To him, me going to my knees in front of him reminds him of dropping to his knees in front of the pew during Sunday Mass, only instead of listening to the priests talk about all the reasons why we’re both going to hell, he mutters prayers under his breath as I take him to Heaven with my tongue and my teeth.
I’ve caught him stroking the rosary inked on his forearm sometimes while I tease him, squeezing the base of his shaft while swirling my tongue around the circumcised head of his penis. Then, when calling for Mother Mary doesn’t give him any relief from me, he would jab his nails in his skin, fucking my mouth, trying to hold out as long as he thinks I want him to.
Tonight, I’m not torturing him, even though—in the heat of the moment—Link insists he still deserves to suffer. That he’ll be serving his penance until the day he fucking dies… which, now that I have him back, better be when he’s ninety and too weak to hold a gun, but still strong enough to shove his wrinkled dick inside of me when I snort.
Tonight, I worship the man who saved me, even while sentencing me to a life with him.
He thinks I’m being punished. Having a gorgeous gangster obsessed with me, a penthouse to protect me, and the luxury to pretend I never pulled a trigger and took a life… if this is Hell, I’m happy to burn.
From the way Link pants as I hollow my cheeks, taking him deep while his prayers tonight are a repeated chant ofmy wife, my wife, my fucking wifeover and over again as he slowly begins to rock his hips, nearly gagging me on his thick dick… from the way he throws his hands behinds his head, letting me take control of his big body… from the way he tries to pull out moments before he shoots his load, but I graze him with my teeth, warning him to stay right where he is as his salty spun fills my mouth…
My husband is right there with me.
Once I swallow and he catches his breath again, Link hooks his hands under my armpits, dragging me up the length of his naked body. I know exactly what his plan is. He’s going to finger me, playing with my pussy while he recovers from his own orgasm. Sometimes he prefers to keep tugging until I’m sitting on his face, where he takes his leisurely time licking me before he’s hard again and I’m suddenly riding his dick.
If there’s one thing I can say about Link—and why I was so taken aback that time in the bathroom—it’s that he’s always been a generous lover. He got to come. He won’t leave until I get to, too.
But I didn’t suck him off because I wanted him to reciprocate. Tonight, I wanted to enjoy my husband—and fool myself into believe that he really is mine.
“Just hold me tonight,” I whisper. I lay my head on his chest. “I want to hear your heart beat.”
One arm wrapping around my shoulders, he tangles his fingers in my hair. “You should,” he rumbles, the vibrations tickling my cheek. “You’re the reason it fucking beats at all.”
I wish I could believe that. “Mmm.”
“What? You think I’m full of shit, Ava?”
