I’m tired of looking at bare white walls and piles of magazines nobody ever reads.
This is my house, right? I should be allowed to make sweeping changes if I want to.
Which is how I justify myself when I go into an impulsive redecorating frenzy.
I use a fancy metal credit card Alexan gave me to order a bunch of home goods on local courier delivery. It’s obscenely expensive, but he never gave me a limit. And besides, when I get like this, there’s no stopping me.
When cute baskets, comfy blankets, more throw pillows than is reasonably healthy, and a bunch of pretty art start showing up, I get to work. Half of his stuff gets either taken down and piled in a corner or stacked up against a wall in the basement. I’m tempted to paint the whole place, but I don’t have time for that.
Instead, I drape it in my personality. I’m going for cozy chic, which involves a lot of pastels and fluffy things. I yank down his curtains and hang very beautiful lavender drapes. I replace his coffee table with this gorgeous glass and gold-edged piece I find for sale at a local shop nearby. I get flowers, big potted plants, and a bunch of little decorative animal statues.
Basically, I lose my damn mind for about six hours.
I’m starting on the second floor when the front door opens. It’s like I’m trapped in a fever dream, and only the sudden noise of Alexan coming home jars me awake. I stand there slack-jawed, and it’s only as he gets deeper into the house that it occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, I went a little bit too far.
“What the hell?” I hear the plain shock in his voice as I hurry downstairs.
“It’s not what it looks like.” I don’t even know why I say it because obviously, it’s exactly what it looks like.
He’s standing at the kitchen island and staring out at the chaos of the living room. I can admit that redecorating hasn’t been a smooth process. The place is nearly a wreck. There’s packing paper and boxes tossed around and stuff covering every possible surface. It looks like Ikea had a baby with Free People and the resulting demon spawn puked all over the house.
“What did you do?” he asks, turning toward me slowly.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I made some minor changes.”
“Minor?” He gestures around him like that somehow can encompass the insanity. “This is minor?”
“Look, I know I might’ve gone a little too far. It’s just, earlier I got the bug and I just—”
“And you just ripped my house apart.”
I pause for a second. I’m about to apologize more, but something about that bugs me. “Our house,” I correct.
His jaw ticks in frustration. “Does it matter? This point is—”
“No, Alexan, seriously.” I step toward him, hands on my hips. “Our house. I want to see you say it.”
His expression hardens. “I don’t need to.”
“But now I feel like you really do.”
“I’ve done nothing but welcome you here. I don’t need to say anything in my defense. I’m not the one on trial here.”
“That’s what this is? You’re having a trial for me?”
“No, it’s just an expression.”
“An expression you used.” I pick up a wooden elephant. “I get it, this isn’t your taste, but it’s mine. And I live here now, right?”
“Yes, you do.”
“Then I get a say in how it looks, right?”
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s the point to me. You just said it. My house, not our house. I get it, this marriage is new and it’s not something either of us asked for, but come on. At least pretend like you want to make it work.”
He comes at me then. It’s a shock when he grabs me by the waist and pulls me toward him, slamming my body against his. He turns and pins me up against the counter, looming over me like a demon. His hands press against my hips.
“Do you really fucking think I don’t want to make this work?” he says quietly, but there’s an edge to his tone.
“I don’t really know what you want,” I admit. My heart’s racing. I’m not afraid of him, but I can tell I hit a nerve, and I’m worried I might’ve gone too far.
He leans down. His lips brush against my neck, and he lets out a soft snarl of frustration. Tingles run down my spine.
“Maybe I haven’t made it clear to you yet. This started out as an arrangement. It started out as something neither of us wanted. But now it’s different.”
“Different… how?”
“You’re my wife.” He kisses my shoulder. His right hand moves up to grip my hair. “You’re a part of my life.”
“Are you saying that because of the whole Mantis thing?”
“I’m saying that in spite of them. God, baby, you really don’t get it, do you?”
I steady myself by pressing my hands into his chest. He pulls back, staring into my eyes. There’s a hidden reservoir of emotion in that expression, and I’m struck all over again by how good he is at hiding it.
“Make me get it then.”
He leans forward. His lips press to mine gently. “Is that why you made a mess of our house? Because you wanted me to punish you?”
“Don’t be so arrogant.”
He pulls my hair lightly. I let out a little gasp. “Admit it, baby. You made this mess because you like it when I get angry.”
Honestly, that hadn’t even occurred to me, but it’s a nice bonus. “There you go, being arrogant again.”
The low, throaty laugh he makes drives every inch of me wild.
“Is it arrogance?” He kisses me again, this time with more hunger. “Or is it just the truth?”
His tongue invades my lips. I moan into that kiss as his grip on me tightens. He pulls my hair harder, and I whimper. I slip up onto the edge of the counter and wrap my legs around his hips.
He rocks forward into me.
“Fuck, you drive me crazy sometimes,” he whispers, kissing my neck. He pulls my shirt off and throws it aside. My bra comes off next.
“And you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Because of this.” He sucks my pierced nipple, rolling his tongue around it.
God, that feels so good.
“It’s almost unfair,” I whine, shimmying my hips. “You know what I like.”
“You’re damn right I do. I study everything about you, Riley. Every day I wonder how I can make you happy.”
“Is this making me happy?”
He licks harder, tonguing around my nipple faster. “I think so.”
“I just wanted to redecorate.”
“And now look at you.” He pulls me down off the counter and turns me around until I’m bent over. Roughly, he slides off my jeans until my ass is bare for him. He reaches forward and lightly trails his fingers around my nipple before pulling my hair. I stay where I am, exposed for him, heart racing like wild.
“It’s all your fault. I was being good until you came home.” I pout, playing it up.
“This is being good?” He kisses me hard, then spanks me once. I yelp in surprise and grin like a drooling idiot. “You think this is good?”
“Yes, I do,” I say, licking my lips.
He spanks me again and again. As he does it, he shoves his fingers in my mouth, and once they’re dripping with my spit, he rubs my nipple.
Fuck, that’s incredible. The spanking, the control, the bliss in my piercing. It’s driving me absolutely crazy. I’m moaning, mindless with pleasure, as he spanks me again and again.
“You dirty fucking girl,” he says, voice heavy with lust. “You don’t get tired of me spanking you raw, do you?”
“No,” I admit. “Keep going.”
He laughs again. God, that sound kills me. I arch my back, mouth hanging open, pushing myself up off the counter with my palms.
He squeezes my tits as he gets out of his pants. I feel his hard dick press against me from behind as one big hand wraps around my throat.
“Next time, you’ll ask before you make a major decision.”
“Is that what this is about?” I wriggle against him, grinding into his cock. “Poor little Alexan wanted me to ask permission?”
“Not permission.” He shoves me down roughly. I gasp, landing onto my elbows as he rips my panties aside. “I want a conversation.”
“Aw, poor boy.”
He snarls and slides his dick inside.
Oh my god.
Bliss hits me like a hammer. All my cheeky bullshit fades away as he fills me to the brim.
“That’s right,” he says, gripping my hair. “Suddenly you’re not talking shit anymore.”
He starts to fuck me, and I can’t think of a comeback. I can’t think of anything at all except my beast of a husband filling my pussy over and over again. I push back into him, desperate for pleasure as he squeezes my breast and rubs my pierced nipple. It’s too much, the pleasure almost too intense, and I’m trembling and shaking against him as he leans forward to whisper in my ear.
“You’re my partner. You’re my wife. You will consult me on big things, and I will consult you. We’re in this together, baby. Do you understand? You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
“I’m yours,” I moan, grinding against him hard. “You’re mine.”
“Good slut. That’s such a good fucking slut. Now you’re going to take my dick, and you’re going to come, and when you’re done, you’ll get on your knees and suck my cock until I finish on your tongue. Do you understand?”
“Yes, baby, I understand.” Sweat rolls down my back. I’m straining and right on the edge. “Oh, god. Oh, my fucking god. I want to come so badly.”
“You want it? You need it, don’t you?” He strokes in deep and holds me there.
“Oh, fuck,” I say with desperate frustration. I try to make him move, but he won’t. “Please, Alexan, don’t you stop.”
His chuckle is amused. “Beg me.”
“I’ll do anything. I’ll swallow every drop of you. I’ll let you fill me as much as you want. Just please—”
He pulls back and slams into me. My eyes roll back as bliss rams straight down my spine.
“That’s it, baby, you’re such a slut for me, and I love it. Look at your pussy dripping down my cock, you messy fucking girl. You can come for me now. Come nice and messy. Leave yourself plenty to clean up.”
He reaches up and strokes my nipple, and that does it.
I shatter like porcelain all over his dick.
It’s an explosion of pure bliss. I’m trembling and moaning his name as I orgasm, my body tightening and tensing. He fucks me through it, talking the whole time. I can’t hear the words or understand much of anything, but I know that tone, that sultry gorgeous tone, and it makes the orgasm that much sweeter.
“That’s my girl,” he says as I lay gasping against the counter. “What a good fucking girl.” He pats my ass, then gently grabs my hair. “But you’re not done yet.”
Eagerly, I drop to my knees. His dick’s thick and long, and it’s soaked with my pussy. I suck it like I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life. He makes me feel beautiful and strong in a way I didn’t know I could. I’ve never been wanted like this before, but as he looks down at me with pure desire in his eyes, I know nobody else could ever make me feel this good again.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispers.
I suck him and stroke him, and he comes in my mouth. It’s salty and warm, and I swallow every single drop like I told him I would. I stare into his eyes as he melts for me, and in the same way he had power over me when he was deep between my legs, now I have power over him as he twitches on my tongue.
That’s the most addictive power I’ve ever tasted.
He pulls me to my feet and kisses me. We stand like that beside the kitchen island for a little while, his arms wrapped around my body. Our breaths sync up, and I close my eyes, feeling warm and comfortable.
“It’s not bad, you know,” he says.
I pull away and get dressed. “What’s not bad?”
“All this.” He gestures around at my mess as he pulls on his pants.
“Come on, don’t give me that.” I chew on a fingernail. “It’s kind of crazy, right?”
“I get it. I wasn’t angry about the changes. But I do want you to talk to me first before going all crazy on me.” He lifts my chin toward him. “And you’re right. This is our place now.”
I grin a little and step into him. He wraps his arms around me and hugs me tight. “So is this what it’s like to just communicate with someone?”
“Seems that way.” He pulls back and lightly kisses me. “There are going to be problems. I’m sure we’ll disagree about some things. But so long as you’re honest and open with me, I’ll do the same for you.”
“I can handle that. And maybe I need to be a little less impulsive moving forward.”
He tilts his head and surveys the house, lips pressed together. “I like you for who you are, but—” He gestures at a pile of garbage. “Maybe you can work on being a little bit neater.”
“That’s a fair compromise.” I walk over and start gathering my trash. He comes and helps, and together we get the place looking halfway decent.
When we’re done, we sit out back together. I put my feet in his lap, and he gently rubs them. I’ve never met a gangster who doesn’t mind giving affection like this, and it feels good.
It feels easy, like it’s supposed to.
My stomach bubbles with nervous excitement. He glances at me and smiles a bit. “What?” he asks. “You’re staring at me.”
“Just thinking, that’s all.” I stretch and sigh. “I probably shouldn’t ask, but would you do me a favor?”
“Anything. You know that.”
“Would you come meet with my brother?”
He stops rubbing my feet. I kick him lightly to make him start again. “Why would you need that?”
“He’s in trouble. I think we can help him.”
“Riley—”
“I’m not asking you to do anything but talk to him.”
He sighs and nods. “I can do that. I already asked my crew to dig into Los Sombras. Maybe they’ll come back with something useful.”
“Seriously? You did that?”
“He’s my brother-in-law, and you’re my wife. This is what family does.”
I lean forward, stretching my leg, and kiss him. “Thank you.”
“Now that you’re feeling grateful—” He glances over his shoulder, expression darkening. “How about we discuss the sheer amount of pink in my living room?”
“Our living room,” I correct, grinning. “And maybe I can tone it down.”
Although I really doubt I will.
