by Lane Hart
If Kira gets to know the real me, she’ll bolt. Of that, I’m certain.
When I stand back up from spoiling the mutt, I see a note on the kitchen counter in her usual spot.
“Gone to the beach,” it says.
She doesn’t say when she left.
For all I know she could’ve been gone for hours because someone kidnapped her, or she drowned…
Nah, the water is still too cold for swimming.
What if Kira didn’t know that and tried to go, then her arms and legs froze so she couldn’t swim back to shore?
Now I’m just being ridiculous. The obsession of my protectiveness of her knows no bounds.
Since Blackjack isn’t barking to tell me he needs to go outside for a piss, she probably hasn’t been gone long.
There’s just one main public beach access close to the house, so that’s where I head out to on foot.
It doesn’t take long for me to spot my beautiful wife wearing a white t-shirt with some logo on it and black yoga pants that only come down to her knees. She’s playing volleyball with a group of guys and girls who look her age – like they’re on a break from college classes and hanging out at the beach on a nice, sunny day.
Kira looks happy, smiling in a way she only does for Blackjack or the dogs and cats at the animal shelter.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous and sexy as hell. Whenever she jumps for the ball, her small perky tits bounce, making me yearn to feel them and taste them again.
And I’m jealous.
Jealous because these jackasses have been playing with her, seeing her sweet tits jiggling, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I can’t go grab her up, throw her over my shoulder and show them who she belongs to. Kira doesn’t want me to touch her.
She barely even looks at me when we’re in the same room together.
It’s become obvious that she doesn’t want me or want to be married to me. She’s just a sweet girl who is going to endure a year with me for the money, and then I’ll never see her again.
And there’s not a goddamn thing I can do to stop her.
Kira
“Do you know that hot Savage King who’s watching you like a hawk?” Kelly asks. “I’m not sure if he’s pissed or thinking about fucking you.”
“Um, yeah, that’s, ah, my husband,” I respond.
“You’re married to a King? Holy shit,” she says in awe. “Those guys are dangerous and damn fine.”
“They are,” I agree as I glance over at Miles, who is glowering at us from the sand dunes. His arms are crossed over his wide, muscular chest, and aviator sunglasses cover his eyes like usual. I think his arms only uncross when he’s eating or riding his motorcycle.
“I better go,” I tell Kelly.
“Good luck,” she says. I wave goodbye to the other players and then trudge through the sand to where my husband is waiting.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask him. “I left a note.”
“I’m not mad,” he grumbles before turning and walking away.
“Oh,” I say in surprise as I follow him through the dunes back to the street that leads to his house. Does that mean Kelly was right? If he’s not angry, he wants to…be with me again?
When we walk through the front door though, Miles heads to the bathroom and turns on the shower. I take Blackjack outside for a walk, more confused than ever.
It seems like the man is either hot or cold, nothing in between.
He’s never kissed my lips, but he has kissed…other places on my body.
He keeps distance between us at all times, in the kitchen, in the hallway, on the sofa, as if he’s trying to avoid any incidental physical contact.
I sleep on the sofa, and he doesn’t seem to care since he’s never asked me to come to bed with him.
If he wanted me, he would ask me to sleep with him, wouldn’t he?
God, it feels like I need some type of tough guy decoder to figure out what he wants.
Chapter Seventeen
Miles
“How’s it going, man?” Frank, my barber, asks when I sit down in his chair.
“Been better,” I mutter as the understatement of the century. For four weeks I’ve been carrying around the worst case of blue balls ever.
My wife is hot.
And I can’t touch her. The most fucked-up thing is that I’ve never been the monogamous type, yet the thought of getting a club girl on her knees to give me relief, cheating on Kira in any way shape or form is blasphemy. Just thinking about it while we’re married makes me feel shitty, so that’s out too.
I’m fucking stuck.
“Lady problems?” Frank guesses.
“How’d you know?” I ask.
“Nothing with the club seems to ever get you down. Only other thing it could be is a woman.”
“Yeah, yeah it is,” I agree. Since I can’t talk about this to anyone else but Cooper, I tell him, “I got married actually.”
“Married?” Frank says when he comes to stand in front of me, his hand holding the electric razor frozen in the air. “No shit?”
“No shit,” I grumble. “And she won’t let me touch her. I don’t think she even likes me. This isn’t going to fucking work,” I admit aloud the thoughts that have been racking my brain for almost a month.
“Women are…fickle,” Frank tells me when he goes back to work shaving the side of my head. “I’ve been married for almost twenty years, and I still don’t know what’s going on in my woman’s head. Sometimes she gets pissed at me for no reason. And when I ask what I did wrong, she says, ‘Oh, you know exactly what you did!’ when I honestly have no fucking idea.”
“That sucks, man,” I tell him with a chuckle.
“I couldn’t even tell you how long it’s been since I got laid. A different president was probably in office.”
“How the hell do you deal with that?” I ask him. “You get some on the side?”
“Fuck, no. Margie would cut off my balls if I wandered.”
“So, you just suck it up and suffer? That’s all you can do?” I grumble in disbelief.
Lowering the razor from my head to meet my eyes in the mirror, he says, “Do you love her?”
“What?” I ask.
“If you love her, then it’s worth not getting laid. And you will get some. Eventually,” he says with a grin. “When it happens, it’s all worth it. I can’t imagine my life without my Margie.”
“Things are different for us,” I tell him, withholding from him the fact that my cold, dead heart is not capable of ever loving someone. “She couldn’t ever love an asshole like me. There’s no way she’s going to want to stick around.”
“That’s the beauty of it! The right woman can overlook all of your flaws. Maybe this girl is it, maybe not. But when you do find her? You better not let her go.”
Kira
It’s been almost a month since I married Miles, and he hasn’t taken me again or even put his hands on me once.
I can’t figure out if I’m happy about that or disappointed.
Oh, screw it, I’m definitely disappointed.
Was our first time not good for him? He wasn’t the one screaming, sobbing, or begging. Nope, that was all me. So I’m guessing he didn’t enjoy himself enough to ask me to join him in his bed.
That’s right, I’ve been sleeping on the leather sofa for weeks! It’s actually pretty comfortable. Just not as comfortable as a bed, and it lacks other additional benefits.
Several times I’ve been soaking in a warm tub filled with bubbles and found my hand disappearing between my legs to stop the throbbing ache.
I’ve never ached for sex before. In fact, I went years without it, including self-love.
The coastal weather has turned warm even though it’s just March. So warm that this afternoon, Miles has been outside mowing and doing yardwork shirtless. And I have been watching him from the window with a strong urge to run my palms over his muscular arms, over his tattoos and down his chest. So strong t
hat I’ve been taking Blackjack out more often than needed for potty breaks to get a closer look.
I actually want to be with my husband again.
And he doesn’t want me.
That’s why I decide I need a distraction. A road trip to see my parents would work, maybe get my mind from constantly thinking about sex.
When Miles comes in and grabs a beer from the refrigerator, sadly with his shirt back on, I run my idea past him.
“I was thinking about taking a trip down to see my parents since I haven’t seen them in a month. They can meet Blackjack,” I tell him while resting my forearms on the bar counter.
“When?” is his grunted one-word response between gulps of his beer.
“Whenever. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Fine,” he mutters. Then he tosses his beer into the trash can and stomps off to the bathroom.
Great.
Does he not want me to go?
Did he want to come too?
How am I supposed to know what he’s thinking or what he wants if grunts are his preferred method of communication?
Chapter Eighteen
Miles
I knew Kira was planning to head out to see her folks today, but the rolling luggage is a complete surprise.
“You’re staying overnight?” I snap at her because I had assumed, apparently wrongly, that she would go down this morning and come back tonight.
“Ah, yeah. Is that not okay?” Kira asks, picking up Jack and cuddling him like he’s her safety blanket. Whenever I’m around her, she’s holding the damn dog. And yeah, I’ll admit he’s a cute little bastard, but fuck!
It’s been four weeks since Kira and I got married.
Four weeks since I fucked her.
Hell, four weeks since the last time I touched her, which is why I’m jealous of the damn mutt. That little fucker gets to lick her face constantly.
“You like the dog better than me,” I state as a fact, not a question.
“I…what?” she asks.
“Not taking him with you probably never crossed your mind,” I say, angry that she didn’t care to invite me along. She’s going to visit her parents overnight to get away from me.
“My parents haven’t seen him yet…” she replies.
“Why don’t you just pack up the rest of your shit and not come back,” I snap at her, reaching the breaking point of my patience and sexual frustration.
Her jaw drops and then her eyes turn glassy when she asks, “You don’t want me here?”
“I’m not holding you hostage even though you act like I am!” I yell at her. “Hell, I’ll even help you get everything down to your car to make it easier on you,” I tell her when I go and pick up the handle on her luggage and start for the door.
“What? No, wait!” Kira yells, and then she’s blocking the door, her hands empty of the dog for once since she must have put him in his pen.
“You don’t want to be here,” I say through clenched teeth. “You flinch away from me, and I haven’t even tried to touch you since the first night!”
“Then try,” she says. “And I’ll…I’ll try not to flinch.”
A sound of non-humorous laughter leaves my mouth. “No, thanks, princess. I may be a killer, but rape’s not really my thing.”
“I-I want to be with you again,” she stammers, and I know she’s full of shit. Why she’s lying I have no clue.
Except for one reason.
“You just want to stick around to make sure I don’t get a refund,” I say in understanding. “What the hell did you want all that money for anyway? You don’t ever buy anything unless I make you.”
“Please don’t send me home,” she begs, her big, pleading, blue eyes giving the mutt a run for his money. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I’ll sleep with you. It’ll be good. I can get better at all of this, I swear.”
What the fuck is she talking about? She thought the night we were together wasn’t good?
“You ran away from me last time telling me not to touch you, remember?” I remind her.
“I-I’ll make it up to you,” she says. “Right now.”
Before I can respond to that, she’s sinking down on her knees in front of me.
“Kira, what the hell are you doing?” I ask when her shaking hands try to undo my belt buckle.
“I’ve never given a, um, a blowjob before,” she informs me while she works on unfastening my pants. “But I’m a fast learner.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her, glancing down to watch as her trembling fingers lower my zipper. “Go home. Fuck the money–” My protests are abruptly cut off when she wraps her fingers around my cock and the crown slips past her plump red lips.
She’s so damn sexy with my dick in her mouth, until her cheeks puff out which is equal parts adorable and hilarious. I know I’m an enormous jackass for chuckling, but I can’t seem to help myself.
When her confused blue eyes lift to my face, I can’t keep a straight face when I tell her, “You don’t actually blow on it, princess. You suck it. Oh, fuck!” I groan when she quickly starts to apply suction. “You are a fast learner,” I say while propping my forearms on the door to rest my forehead on them to watch her, preventing me from touching her until she says the words.
Kira
I’m an idiot.
But I refuse to give up. I can make Miles feel as good as he made me feel if he gives me a chance.
And he does.
As if aware of my jaw getting sore from trying to take all of his length, he provides me with further instruction.
“You can use your hand if you want. Oh, hell yeah, just like that,” he responds when I wrap my fingers around his slick cock and stroke it up and down. “Licking feels nice too,” he adds, so I rub the tip of his cock over the flat of my tongue. “My boys like some hand and mouth attention too.”
Since I’m assuming he’s referring to his balls, I lift his cock straight up to run my tongue over the thin skin covering his sack before taking one into my mouth.
“God, yes, Kira,” Miles grunts above me, throwing his head back for several seconds before he rests his forehead on his arms again to keep watching me. “Suck my cock again. I want to see it fucking your mouth.”
Since I want to please him, I open wide and let him thrust his shaft inside until I gag and he pulls back.
“You can take more, princess,” Miles says confidently. I take him to the back of my throat and then swallow as he starts to retreat. “Fuck, yeah. Your pouty lips and virgin mouth were made to suck cock. Oh Jesus Christ!” he shouts as his hips pump in and out faster and faster.
My hands that are wrapped around Miles’ thighs feel them start to tremble while his curses turn into animalistic growls.
“You want me to come down your throat?” it sounds like he asks, but it’s hard to tell since his voice is so deep and gruff.
My eyes lock with his as I give a slight nod of agreement.
“FUCK!” he roars as his hot seed explodes in my mouth.
I’m taking everything he gives me, even though his orgasm seems to go on forever. I’m pretty proud of myself since this is my first time.
But then all of a sudden, my stomach heaves without warning. I start to gag again, and Miles pulls his shaft out of my mouth just in time for me to throw up on the floor and even the toes of his boots.
Mortified beyond belief, I slap my hand over my mouth as if that will do any good now.
Neither of us say a word or move for several long seconds.
Finally Miles takes a step backward and pulls up his pants. I still can’t lift my eyes to his yet.
“Clean this shit up,” he says as I hear his zipper. He doesn’t even fasten his belt buckle before he pushes the door open and steps over me.
“Oh my god. What have I done?” I ask the empty room.
I was supposed to be showing Miles that I want him, that I want to stay so he won’t ask for half of his money back that my parents need, and now he must hate
me for getting sick on him after doing…that.
Now he’ll send me away for sure!
Chapter Nineteen
Miles
Guess that answers my question – Kira thinks I’m disgusting.
In all my life, I’ve never had a woman do…that afterward. And I didn’t even lay a hand on her! I didn’t force her to suck my dick or swallow! She insisted, and then…fuck me.
That’s it. She’s got to go back home. I can’t live in the same house knowing how fucking amazing it feels to be inside of her while at the same time being well aware of the fact that Kira apparently despises me.
From now on, I’ll sleep at the clubhouse until she takes the hint and leaves. I meant what I said. Fuck the money. She can keep it. I think she’s earned it after this morning.
When I get to the Savage Asylum, I stick my head in the chapel where Torin is going through stacks of paperwork like usual, although he’s been putting in fewer hours now that he’s married and has a family.
“Mind if I crash in an apartment for a while?” I ask him.
Looking up, our president lifts one dirty blond eyebrow and says, “I didn’t know you weren’t staying in the apartment.”
“Oh. Right. Long story,” I mutter.
“Everything okay?” he asks. Then his nose wrinkles. “Why do you smell like vomit?”
“Shit. Sorry,” I reply with a wince. “I need to try and clean my boots off.”
“How did you get vomit on your boots? Do I even want to know the answer to that question?”
