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Barging into our bedroom, I put her down and drag a hand through my hair as she blinks up at me.
“Is there a reason for your rude behavior?” she asks, acting as if she doesn’t know and a thrill slices my veins. I hook my fingers into the buttons of her uniform and they come undone. She gasps and I smirk.
“I need a nurse,” I murmur, sitting down wide legged at the edge of the bed and Tamsin squirms. Her breaths heave and I stare at her without blinking. I salivate over her, I dream about her and fuck there are even times when I think in her rather than reason and logic. I need to be inside her. It’s the only time I feel calm, it’s the only time when I feel centered and not like I’m about to let everything go to hell, and spend my days enjoying every little inch of my wife’s tight body and pretty heart.
There are times when I feel she’s not giving me enough access and it turns me into a wreck even though I don’t show it. Then again there isn’t enough access she could give me without needing to be permanently attached to me. She transfixes me. I find no meaning in the life in the streets anymore. I find all my meaning in her. Tamsin is the only thing that matters and ever will matter. I will love her until there is no more love in me left and she has taken it all. It’s all hers...all of it.
“I’ll see what I can do to help,” she purrs and starts walking over to me, slowly while her fingers undo the rest of the buttons and my heart starts pounding. One touch from her and I’ll come undone. I clench my teeth, feeling like I’m about to throw a fit if she doesn’t get over here fast enough. I love her and fuck I have never loved anyone as much as her. And never will.
Snatching her to me when she’s close enough, I lock my mouth on hers and my arms go around her to keep her body in place. “Give me those pink lips,” I rasp and she closes her eyes and puckers because she has a soft spot for her husband. I claim her lips like I’ve claimed all of her. Her sweet kiss explodes in my mouth and ignites in my veins and now because of her, I too know the light.
The End
Forced By the Enforcer
1.
Yale
I could probably bet my bottom dollar on I’m not at home. These sheets don’t smell fresh and crisp like mine, and the bed is definitely a lot bigger, the pillow hard enough to give me a sore neck. Cracking a lid, I face the window and a pale dark streams through. It must be near dawn. I roll over to my back, groaning when the motion makes me dizzy and I drag a deep breath. There’s no lamp above my head, just a naked lightbulb that sways and I blink. What the heck happened last night?
Searching my mind, I’m relieved when memories start washing over me. My friend Nashlyn dragged me to the house party of some guy she vaguely knows. His house is remote, at a cul-de-sac and we arrived around after midnight and the party wasn’t really a party. More like a rager with crazy people running around, liquor flooding and at some point I think someone tried jumping off the roof, after confusing it for a trampoline. Nashlyn and I had tons of fun and a ton of delicious drinks that tasted like sugar and summer and made us woozier than bees hammered on nectar. Later we danced, laughed and sang at the top of our lungs to cheesy pop songs and then...
It gets blurry.
I think someone ushered us to go upstairs and sleep it off. We did as we were told since it seemed like a great idea at the time. Nashlyn and I fell into bed and then I can’t remember anything else. Sitting up, I grimace when my head pounds and I reach for my phone that’s in my bag next to the bed. I have several emoji ridden texts from Nashlyn, saying she’s sorry she left and that she tried to wake me but I kept falling asleep. She figured she should just let me keep snoozing and she had to leave because she was going to be late for work.
Right, she just got a new job and I don’t blame her for ditching me, though I’ll probably never go to a house party again and be this irresponsible. I throw my legs over the edge of the bed. Okay, I gotta be careful now because my head is spinning.
Slowly getting up, I grab some painkillers from my bag and walk into the tiny bathroom conjoining the bedroom. At the sight of myself in the mirror, I burst out laughing. I look like a raccoon that’s been tossed around in the dryer. Sniggering to myself, I take my painkillers with some water and wash my face, until I both look and feel better.
Smoothing the wrinkles on my clothes, I walk out to the bedroom again, searching for my shoes. I kicked them off in the corner and since the party wasn’t anything fancy, it’s just a pair of sneakers. Putting them on, I exit the room and this place still smells of yesterday and there’s junk everywhere. Beer cans, red plastic mugs and empty potato chip bags...Apart from the mess, the house is just average, two floors high and there’s very little furniture.
I walk down the staircase, tensing a little when it creaks. Doesn’t seem like anyone is home but then I hear the sound of a commercial for dish soap from the TV in the living room. Can’t just run out of here without thanking the guy who let me sleep in his home. Think his name is...oh dang, I actually can’t remember his name. I bite my lip. Maybe it’s something like Lucas or Lade...?
Straightening, I’m thinking to myself that I’ll just smile a lot, thank him, say goodbye and then I’ll be out of here. Entering the living room, I fire a friendly smile and wave at Lade who’s lounging on the couch with one leg thrown over the armrest. His sallow face is turned toward the TV, his eyes blurry from booze but then they swipe my way, his gaze narrowing in on me.
“Hey, remember me?” I ask, feeling awkward and his eyes narrow even more and I drag a breath. “Sorry about crashing, I just...,” I shake my head, “had too much fun, I think.” I shrug, hoping I haven’t caused any issues. “Anyway, I’ll be on my way...”
I trail off when he rises and puts the bottle in his hand on the edge of the table and his eyes stir. “You better fucking be kidding me,” he says in a tone that makes me swallow and he brushes his mouth with his hand. “You’re saying I had a thing like you, sleeping upstairs all this time?”
What...the...heck...Seriously? I’m gonna kill Nashlyn for bringing me home to this lunatic. Then again, I’m not surprised. She thinks everyone’s a fluffy marshmallow, even guys like this weirdo.
“Ah...I don’t want any trouble,” I say carefully, glancing at the outer door in the hallway but thing is, I can’t get to it without passing Lade. He shakes his head in slow motion, walking toward me and he licks his lips over and over like he’s been stuck in a desert and finally seen a water source.
“You sure? Because I would love to give a girl who looks like the spitting image of Poison Ivy, a little bit of my trouble.”
My legs start trembling as I back into a wall. “You don’t wanna mess with me, trust me. I know self-defense...” That’s actually not true. I know nothing about self-defense and now I curse all the times, I considered taking a class but didn’t.
Lade laughs. “Stop talking. I don’t like it when you talk. Your lips are made for sucking, not fighting. Just keep your mouth and eyes shut and maybe you’ll like what I’m about to do to you.”
He grabs his junk on top of his denims and I scream when he lunges at me, dread filling my body. I turn my face to the side, digging my fingers into the wallpaper, prepared to kick him in the crotch and I beat out with my leg but it doesn’t knock him. All I hit is air.
Lade never even grazes me and I gasp, my eyes widening in fear. There’s another man in the room, one who is as silent as a shadow but so tall and big he reminds me more of a mountain at midnight. Snarling, he grabs Lade by the collar with one hand and by his belt with the other. He swirls him around in the room, actually swirls like he’s a toy. Lade screams, acting like he’s just entered his own worst nightmare and the man, the stranger throws him onto the couch while I still press against the wall.
I have never seen a man like the one before me. He must be close to seven feet tall, dressed in leather pants and a black vest over a black shirt that has the sleeves rolled up. There are tattoos on his burly arms. Tattoos that look like runes. They slither, promising primal ferocity and I pant.
There’s an elegant malice to him, in the way he carries his stiff shoulders, in the way he scans a room and suddenly I want that danger on me. I want his danger, want it to stroke my face and brush against me and shower over me like a vigorous waterfall. I’m already halfway to melting and it scares me to think what will happen if he ever touches me, if he ever puts his hard lips on mine.
