Maybe it’s all the lewd and embarrassing sex I had with Tigran the night before, but the next day I wake up feeling adventurous.
For me, that means I’m thinking about leaving my rooms for the first time in a few days.
I’m pleasantly sore and in a good mood when Vito brings up breakfast. Tigran’s gone, but I never expected him to stay. The bed was still warm from his body when I woke up, which means he was there until recently, at least. It’s strange having my husband sleeping in my bed, but it’s not like we’re spending a lot of time chatting.
Mostly, we’re passing out together after vigorous and very unladylike sex.
“Coffee and toast,” Vito announces, placing the tray down on the table. “You know, I can make other things if you’d like, my dear.”
“That’s okay. I like to start the day with something light.” I sip the coffee as the old butler waits near the door. Today he’s in slacks and a button-down shirt with dark brown loafers. “Actually, I wanted to ask for a favor.”
“Anything. That’s my job.”
“Would you mind if I came downstairs and helped you wash the dishes?”
His eyebrows raise in surprise. I don’t like that look, but I keep my chin up and my spine straight. Despite what Tigran says when he’s buried between my legs, I’m still a proper woman who does the right thing.
“You really don’t have to do that,” he says, tilting his head to the side.
“I just haven’t been out of my rooms in a while, and I was thinking—” I deflate slightly. He’s right; this is silly. I’m Tigran’s wife, and it’s not my place to do household chores, right? I should let his staff do their jobs and stay out of the way. I’d just be annoying and distracting anyway.
“I would be happy if you came down to help,” Vito says kindly.
“Really? I mean, great, that’s great. Should we, uh, go now?” I slurp down my coffee, groan when I burn my tongue, and shove a piece of toast in my mouth. “I’m ready,” I mumble.
Vito laughs and helps me carry the remains of my breakfast down into the main kitchen. There isn’t much to clean up, but I help him by washing a few pots and pans leftover from dinner the night before.
Some of the guards lurk nearby. I notice them on the edges of the kitchen. They’re Arsen’s men, and he swears they’re loyal only to him, but they’re still strangers in my space, and they make me uncomfortable. I don’t complain, though—they’re here for my protection. Vito must notice, and he goes over to tell the men to stand out of sight.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling embarrassed and pathetic. “I’m sorry I’m such a pain.”
“You are far from a pain, dear,” he says lightly, patting my hand before passing me another cooking sheet to wash. “I haven’t seen Tigran this happy since I started working for him.”
I try to put Tigran and happy into my head at the same time and fail utterly. That man is either rabidly fucking me or glaring at everything. There’s no in-between.
“How long have you worked for him?” I ask instead, not willing to think about Tigran’s feelings for me. This thing is strictly professional, no matter what Vito might say.
“Six years now,” he says, drying a pot with a towel. We work together as we talk, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. “I retired from my old position, and Tigran offered to give me a new kind of job. We found it was mutually beneficial, and here I am.”
I glance at the old Italian man and study him. Vito moves with practiced efficiency, gliding around the kitchen with ease.
Despite his age, he’s much nimbler than he lets on.
“Do you like it here?” I ask him.
He nods happily. “Very much. I find it peaceful, quite honestly. Tigran is a good man, despite what he wants the world to think. We were enemies of a sort once, you know.”
“Really? And now he trusts you enough to keep you in his house?”
Vito laughs and leans against the counter. “Funny how life goes. When he was young, Tigran was a troublemaker. I operated a very large network of brothels, and he was a regular.”
I drop a dish, and it clatters into the sink. I curse, fishing it out, and gape at the old man. He’s smiling kindly, as if he just mentioned getting the early bird special at the Cracker Barrel, not his past life as a pimp.
“You… how… I mean, what?” My cheeks are burning red, and I’m having trouble making sense of all this.
“It’s in the past, my dear, but it’s the truth. Back then, Tigran must’ve been fifteen at most. He had a scheme going where he’d sell my girls things they needed, like packs of stolen condoms, pregnancy tests, razors, and other little necessary items. But one day, he had a falling out with a girl over payment, and he decided to take the money from me instead.”
I’m having trouble imagining fifteen-year-old Tigran selling condoms to hookers and stealing money from pimp Vito, but I nod along like this is a totally reasonable story. “What did you do?”
“When I found out, I tried to have him beaten. How could I let him get away with that and still maintain my respect in the city? But Tigran was crafty and evaded me for weeks until finally, he turned himself over. He stood in my office, chin held high, and told me that he didn’t regret it, that my girl owed him and that meant I owed him by extension, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Oh my god. That’s insane. You must’ve been livid.”
“I was,” Vito says, nodding and smiling fondly. “But also impressed. Tigran owned up to his choice and showed real guts that day.”
“Did you let him go?”
“Absolutely not. I beat him bloody. But after that, we respected each other.” Vito touches my shoulder lightly. “Tigran’s a prideful man, but he’s an honest one. I believe he’s lost his way these last few years, but with you in the house, maybe he’ll find himself again.”
“I hope so,” I say, feeling at a loss. “But wait, you said you retired, right?”
“A former associate runs the girls these days, but I keep in touch with them. I’m something of a spymaster now.” His eyes twinkle with amusement. “I buy and sell information the girls pump out of their customers. I apologize for being crude about it.”
“I’m fine,” I squeak, trying not to imagine hookers giving hand jobs to politicians while asking them about what bribes they take. It’s probably subtler than that, but not by much.
There are a thousand questions I want to ask Vito. It’s hard to connect an old pimp with the kindly butler I’ve grown to really like, and I wonder if I would’ve let myself feel comfortable around him if I had known from the start.
Probably not, and that says something about me.
I’m too quick to judge what’s right and wrong. I’m so sure I know what’s good, what I’m supposed to do, but maybe life’s not that simple after all.
Maybe there’s room for a little filth.
“I hope you aren’t putting my wife to work.” Tigran stands in the entrance to the kitchen. I jump slightly and look over, surprised to see him.
But Vito acts like he knew Tigran was there all along. “She wanted to help, and I’m here to serve.”
“My wife doesn’t need to clean dishes,” Tigran says, but he’s smiling at me, like he’s actually happy.
“It’s okay, I insisted,” I tell him, smiling back. A warmth rushes over me. I feel oddly comfortable as he comes over, bends down, and kisses my cheek.
“I’m glad,” he whispers, one hand lightly patting my ass.
I blush like crazy. Vito definitely saw that, but the old man whistles as he walks away, pretending like he didn’t. He exits the kitchen, leaving me alone with my husband.
“I was feeling old, I guess,” I say awkwardly, gesturing at the suds in the sink. “And this is about as exciting as I get.”
“It’s really nice seeing you out of your room.” He takes one soapy, wet hand and raises it to his mouth. He kisses my fingers lightly, brushing them over his lips. “I was thinking about you.”
“Is that why you’re home?”
He nods, staring into my eyes, and pulls me over to him. My damp hands leave marks on his shirt when I touch him. “Sorry, I should dry these off.”
He holds onto my hips and doesn’t let me go. “I was hoping I might find you still in bed,” he says, stooping down to kiss me.
I pull back slightly. “And what were you going to do if I was? Let me sleep in, I hope. I don’t think you’re bad enough to wake me up.”
“I absolutely am that wicked.” He grabs my hair and crushes his mouth to mine. I melt into that kiss, letting his tongue invade my mouth.
“How wicked?” I whisper, my heart racing up into my throat.
He grabs my hips and hoists me up onto the island. “Tigran!” I yelp, blushing like crazy as he pins himself between my knees and pulls my hair lightly. His lips kiss my neck. “Your guards,” I hiss.
“Listen up, anyone still nearby, get the fuck out of the house,” Tigran says loudly, glancing over toward the door. “Including you, Vito. No listening.”
“Oh my fucking god, Tigran,” I groan, mortified beyond belief. He keeps kissing my neck, then roughly shoves my top up over my bra and kisses along my breasts.
“I want to hear fucking doors slam,” Tigran shouts, and a moment later, he gets what he wants. “There we go. Now we’re alone.” He shoves my bra up and licks one nipple.
“You don’t know that,” I try, attempting to push it back down, but he keeps me held where I am.
“My men know when to obey orders. Just like my wife should.”
“Tigran,” I moan as he yanks down my pants. He pulls them straight off until I’m half exposed right in the middle of the kitchen, where I was having a lovely time with Vito barely five minutes earlier. “You can’t just… just… come in here and—”
“Take you?” he asks, kissing up my inner thigh before burying my panties right over my pussy with his mouth. “I absolutely can, my sweet, because you are my slut and my toy, and if I want to come use you, I’ll fucking use you.”
My breath comes in harsh and fast as he shoves my panties aside and laps me up. I moan, my head ringing with anxiety and desire. What if someone comes in? What if any of them stayed inside?
I would die of embarrassment if anyone but Tigran heard my moans.
But I also don’t want him to stop. That’s the twisted bit. This makes me feel so filthy, and that’s exactly what I want. It’s dirty and wrong, letting him go down on me in the middle of the kitchen, and I need him to keep going.
“Lick me more,” I say, my lips hanging open as I stare. He looks up in surprise, then his eyes harden as a vicious smile spreads across his mouth.
“Say that again,” he commands, roughly grabbing my thick braid. He wraps his hand around it, and I whimper in pain.
“Lick my pussy, Tigran,” I say, turning deep crimson. I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud, but it feels so good.
“I love a slut with a dirty mouth,” he says, then buries my lips in a kiss. “Can you taste yourself on my tongue?” He kisses me again, and he’s right, I can taste myself.
He goes back down on me, licking and sucking my clit. He puts his fingers deep inside me, gets them wet, then makes me suck on them as he licks my clit. I moan with them buried in my mouth as he goes wild on my dripping pussy, letting it dribble onto the granite countertop, licking faster and faster as my back arches into his face.
“Keep going, get me off, you fucking asshole,” I pant, losing my mind. “Make me suck myself from your tongue, please, Tigran.”
He growls with excitement and doesn’t stop. His fingers punish me as his tongue drives me crazy, and it finally breaks me.
I come right there in the kitchen on my husband’s dirty mouth, his name escaping my lips like a holy song.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” he says, wrenching my face to his and burying his tongue in my mouth.
Just like I wanted.
