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ONE
PAIGE
“Let me get this straight, you’re asking me to come to Bren’s house with you so you can sit and discuss Mafia stuff?” I make hand gestures to mock the word Mafia because I’m pissed. Oscar has not only insisted on me taking early maternity leave from my job, but now he is adamant I follow him around like a little lap dog while he continues his work. I exhale a loud huff in frustration.
“I did not ask.” He stares at me from across the kitchen counter, his eyes unwavering.
“Yes, y—” He holds his hand up to pause my response.
Then he shakes his head, making his longer strands of hair brush against his forehead, and I itch to push it back. “I did not ask, Paige. I told you that you’re coming to Bren’s.”
My eyes widen, I see red, and my pulse races. “Told?” I spit out.
His lip tips up at the side, then he gives a subtle nod in agreement. I cross my arms over my chest in refusal and lift my chin while glaring back at him. His eyes dart toward my pushed-up tits. For a man who was always so adamant he liked women built a certain way, you sure as hell wouldn’t know with how aroused he becomes at my assets.
He steps around the counter, allowing me to take him in. He’s dressed for a workday. As usual, his white shirt is starched and tucked into his navy pants with preciseness, the buttons lined with his zipper, the top button of his shirt is open, and the only giveaways he is in his relaxed state of mind are the facts he is missing his cufflinks and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.
“There’s no reason for me to go,” I counter.
“There is.” His eyes darken as he steps toward me, and I know he’s going to use his ability to control me to get me to join him at Bren’s. “I want you there.” His words make my heart flutter, and my body softens with compassion.
Oscar has made no attempt to disguise his obsession with me. To the outside world, it would be unacceptable, odd even, but to us, it’s normal.
“I want you with me, Paige.” His velvety voice stokes my arousal as his fingers push my auburn hair gently from my shoulder. He bends slightly, breathing me in. “Always with me.”
Just when I think he’s going to kiss me tenderly, he shocks me by wrapping his arm around me from behind and tightening his fingers against my throat, forcing me to grip the counter tighter. A gasp leaves my lips when he rubs his hard cock into my ass.
“Did you remember to leave your panties off, Paige?” he croons, trailing his lips along my neck. “Or have I got to stuff your mouth with them again as punishment?” I whimper at the reminder; a couple of mornings ago, I slipped some panties on while Oscar was showering. Granted, I was only going to get a smoothie from the refrigerator, but still, I broke his abundance of rules and had to choke on the consequence.
“I’m bare.”
The sound of his zipper sends a flurry of excitement down my spine and pooling between my legs.
The truth of the matter is, as much as I grumble about Oscar and his demanding ways, I love them and crave them as much as he does. Handing over control and giving him the power in our relationship is the ultimate gift I could give him.
“Fuck, you drive me to insanity, Paige.” He nips at the flesh on my neck, making me wince. Then he lets out a languorous hum, devouring me as he sucks harder, determined to leave his mark on me.
“I’m going to fuck the defiance out of you, Paige.” A moan lodges in his throat, and the noise sends tremors of exhilaration over my body. “I’m going to fuck this pussy so hard, you won’t ever defy me again.” We both know that’s a lie, but I don’t dispute him.
His fingers tightening around my throat make my eyes bulge and my heart rate escalate, every part of my being aroused by the man who consumes me.
“I love you,” I whisper through broken breaths.
His lip quirks beside my ear. “I know you do.”
OSCAR
Paige O’Connell is my everything. Every action and breath I take is for her and our unborn son.
But when she tells me she loves me, that is when I know she breathes for me too. I tug my weeping cock out of my pants while keeping a hold of Paige’s throat, then lift my shirt up and over her firm ass.
When I insisted she didn’t need clothes—other than mine to wear around the apartment—she laughed. But I struggled to understand; my instructions lacked any humor. I’ve spent years wondering why people laugh when it’s unnecessary, and when I finally concluded some people are just odd like that, I accepted it much easier.
I know my wife better than anyone, even herself. So naturally, she became turned on by what she called caveman antics. Now that made my lip quirk, as everyone knows I’m far from being a brainless Neanderthal.
Having my wife accessible whenever I desire, helps me relax, and her wearing my clothing is nonnegotiable. Our baby needs to know who his father is, therefore, I offered them the comfort of my scent early on, along with a few other tweaks in our already perfect lifestyle.
“Oscar, please.” Her whimpers break me from my thoughts. She hates it when I toy with her like this.
