by E. K. Blair
I narrow my eyes at him before he looks to Bennett. His jealousy, if he doesn’t get it under wraps, could ignite danger in this delicate situation, but Bennett takes it as manly banter and responds, “Indeed. Maybe it was a moment of weakness when she said yes to my proposal, which is why we married within months. I couldn’t risk losing her when she finally came to her senses.”
As awkward as it is, I have to keep the jig up as his wife, so I turn to him, laughing in false amusement, giving him a taste of the sass he enjoys so much. “Please, I had already figured you for another helpless man in need of a woman’s influence before we ever said our ‘I do’s.’”
“And yet you still married me,” he laughs.
“Smart woman,” Cal boasts.
“And why’s that?” I ask slyly.
“Well,” he starts as he steps towards Bennett, clapping his hand on to my husband’s shoulder, “most men only strive to be half of what he has become, and they still fail. I can only admire a man who works hard for everything he has. No handouts taken.”
I note the underlying passive aggressive statement. That he’s implying Declan is of the latter. His remark irritates me, and the need to speak up and defend the guy I feel is becoming a friend of mine pangs at me, so I snap in haste, “If nobody took those handouts, Cal, then everything would simply be left to die. Is that what you want to see? The death of everything you’ve worked so hard for? Or rather, you could take pride in the person who gives a shit enough to step in to ensure your dream continues to thrive. Seems you’ve got priorities a tad misappropriated and you should start respecting those that don’t follow in your macho do-for-yourself attitude.”
The look on Cal’s face is of priceless shock that I would speak so bluntly to him. The two of us just look at each other when Bennett finally speaks. “Honey—”
“Don’t,” I snap, interrupting him. “Don’t defend his way of thinking. It’s sophomoric.”
“You’ll have to excuse her. She’s a feisty one,” he remarks, trying to lighten the tension I just created.
When I look over to Declan, the air suddenly feels a little too thick to breathe.
“I can appreciate fire,” Cal responds, giving me a wink, which irks me.
“Camilla,” I say, turning my attention to her while she stands stoically at Cal’s side, keeping a tight lip this whole time. “Could you show me to the powder room?”
After she gives me directions to the restroom, I excuse myself from the group for a much needed breather. Closing the door behind me, I lean against it and drop my head. I’m not sure what I was thinking, making a fool out of myself back there for a guy that’s nothing more than a con to me.
“He’s more than a con,” the voice inside my head tells me. But the fact is, no matter how I identify with Declan, he is, at the end of the day, a con that I’m working. The fact that I can relate to him on certain levels isn’t ideal, but it doesn’t change the bottom line either. I need to pull my shit together, be the loving wife right now, and deal with Declan later. Preferably back in Chicago.
The turning of the door handle against my back causes me to startle and jump away.
“What the hell are you doing?” I seethe under my breath when Declan steps in, closing and locking the door behind him. “Why are you even here?”
He completely ignores my questioning and starts on his own, asking, “Why do you look at him like you do?”
“What?”
We keep our voices to a minimal whisper even though we are both hostile with inflection.
“The way you look at him, Nina. Don’t fucking pretend with me.”
“Declan, let me make this clear. He’s. My. Husband.”
He steps forward, caging me against the wall with his hands, eyes menacing, as he hisses through his Scottish brogue that’s growing heavier the more irate he becomes, “Don’t feed me shit right now. Tell me, how can you look at him like you do? That cocksucker fucking hits you.”
“Because if I treat him like shit, what the hell do you think is going to be my punishment?” And in my moment of rage, I spit out my next words, “I’ll give you a hint, the same thing you do when you punish me.”
And the dreadful look of remorse that takes over his face makes me instantly regret saying that. For implying that Declan would be a man of such a vile nature.
“I’m sorry,” I quickly recant, softening my tone. “I didn’t mean th—”
He covers my mouth with his hand, stopping my words, and I feel like shit for what I just inferred. He’s never touched me out of hate. I know Declan honestly cares about me, and I care about him. So when guilt fills his eyes, I grab his wrist and pull his hand away, whispering, “That was unjust. You’re nothing like him. I know that. I was just caught up and angry.”
“You’re right.”
“No, Declan. I’m wrong. You punish me out of love. It’s not the same. I’m sorry I implied it was,” I tell him. “You don’t hurt me like he does. With him, it’s nothing but fear, but with you . . . when I’m with you, it’s the only time I ever truly feel safe.”
“My mind is fucking with me here. Especially when I see the way you look at him. When I see the way he touches you. Do you have any idea what that shit does to me when all I want is you?”
Taking his face in my hands, I affirm with fervor, “I love you, Declan. You. Not him. He’s not a choice for me, you are.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you,” I lie. “Only you.”
“This can’t last forever, you know? Me on the side while I sit at home knowing you’re fucking that piece of shit.”
“I know. But right now . . . Declan, he’s in the other room. We have to go back. We can talk about this back in Chicago. He leaves for Dubai in a couple days.”
His lips collide with mine, taking me in an instant, filling my mouth with his tongue. He’s urgent and needy, hands on my tits, groping them firmly. I grip his shoulders when he presses his hips into me.
“You feel that? What you do to me?”
“Yes,” I breathe as he grinds his erection against me.
“Hike it up,” he demands, and I quickly grab the hem of my dress, pulling it up as he swiftly undoes his pants. With his hands firmly on my ass, he hoists me up against the wall, reaches between us, and yanks my panties to the side before thrusting his cock urgently inside of me. “So wet, baby. Always ready for me,” he grunts, and the truth of his words hurts as I wonder why my body betrays me like it does for him.
His overwhelming aura has my mind losing focus as he pounds into me, a beautifully brutal display of his love. With my arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders, I hang on, burying my head in the crook of his neck while he fucks me mercilessly against the wall. The small room is filled with our labored breaths and the familiar smell of our sex.
This is Declan’s arcane display of his primal need to mark me before sending me back to my husband. He’s possessive and makes no apologies about it.
“Put your fingers in my mouth and then touch yourself,” he instructs and I do, pushing two of my fingers past his lips so he can wet them for me before I slip my hand between us and start rubbing my already slick bundle of nerves.
“Ohh, God,” I exhale.
“That’s it. Make yourself cream all over my cock.”
“Declan . . .”
“Do it,” he commands as he hungrily slams inside of me, hitting me just right that I fall into a suspended reality.
My pussy pulses in waves of pleasure around his cock as I lose my breath in release.
“Fuck, yeah,” he growls as he shoots his hot cum inside of me, claiming me as his. He drops his head to my chest as he begins to slow but still pumping small thrusts inside of me.
I let my head fall back against the wall, and when he looks up at me, his request is clear when he says, “Give it to me,” and I slip my fingers back into his mouth so he can taste my arousal.
When he lowers me back down, holding on to me as I steady
myself on my feet, his cum slowly seeps out of me, wetting my panties as I slip them back in place. We don’t speak as we rush to pull ourselves together. I check myself in the mirror, swipe my fingers under my eyes, and then run them through my hair in an attempt to smooth it down. When Declan has his pants back on, he wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses me tenderly under my ear, moving his lips along the delicate skin, telling me, “I love you. So fucking much.”
My heart is racing, not just from the abrupt sex, but also from the fear of knowing Bennett is in the other room. I turn in his arms, slightly out of breath, and soothe him the best that I can before I walk out of here and return to my husband.
“I love you too. If I had my way, I’d hide away with you in here forever.”
He presses his lips into my neck, and then unlocks the door. “You go ahead. Give me a few minutes.”
I run my hand along his jaw, taking in the feel of his whiskers and giving him a soft smile before leaving.
“There you are. I was about to come looking for you,” Bennett says when I walk back to where I had left him.
I walk over to where he sits on the couch and take a seat next to him. “I’m sorry. Just needed a moment.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes,” I say, and then turn to Cal, who’s sitting with Camilla on the adjacent couch. “I apologize for my uncouth outburst. I don’t know what came over me.”
“No need to apologize. You have a spicy bite to you, nothing wrong with that,” he says and then nods to Camilla, adding, “You should hear this one when she gets a fire under her ass.”
“Calum!” she squeals, slapping his knee as he starts to laugh.
Bennett and I join the amusement in their exchange when Declan walks in. He quickly glances my way, scowling when he sees Bennett’s arm wrapped around me as I’m cuddled up next to him.
“There you are, son. Where the hell have you been?” Cal questions in annoyance.
“Had to take a call,” he answers. “I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to call it a night here. Father, it was good seeing you,” he says as he walks over to say his goodbyes to Cal and Camilla before turning in my direction. Bennett stands to shake Declan’s hand, totally unaware that he was just inside of me. I stand, nervously, next to Bennett, and when the two are finished saying their quick and stale goodbye, Declan takes my hand in his, bringing it up to his lips for a chaste kiss.
“Nina, always a pleasure.”
“Likewise,” I respond as casually as I can, and when he drops my hand, I watch as he turns to leave.
The rest of the evening passes by easily, but I can’t help but wonder about Declan. I shouldn’t be wasting my time worrying about how he’s feeling, but I can’t shake it off. After we leave and get back to the hotel, I pull out my phone and open up the text app that he had installed on my phone while Bennett showers.
Where are you?
His response comes quick.
Out.
His clipped text agitates me, but at the same time hurts me to know I’ve upset him.
I’m so sorry about tonight.
It was my mistake for being there.
I stare at the screen, not sure what I should type next, but it soon vibrates with another message from him.
Are you okay?
No. I miss you.
I miss you too, darling.
When I hear the water to the shower turn off, I quickly type out my next text.
I have to go. I love you though. I need you to know that.
I do know. I love you too.
I shut off my phone after I read his last text and slip it back inside of my purse. When Bennett comes to bed, his hands are all over me. And even though I was just with Declan, I don’t deny Bennett. So as we have sex, I numb myself to him. I act out the motions as I always do, but inside, I turn every part of me off. The only thought I allow to float through my head is one that brings me a dark sense of satisfaction, knowing that this man I hate so much has his dick covered in another man’s cum as he fucks me.
“NOT MY FACE this time.”
“Why?”
“Because Bennett will be back in a week. I can’t have any leftover bruises that are on my face,” I tell Pike.
“Okay, yeah. Your back then?”
With a nod, I nervously agree.
“You scared?” he asks.
“A little. My face hurt for a couple days after what we did. I’m okay though,” I tell him. “Just do it.” I turn away from Pike and tense up, waiting for the blow, but I’m greeted first by his caring touch as he runs his hands soothingly up and down my arms. But the waiting is just causing my anxiety to escalate. “Please, Pike. Now.”
The knuckles of his fist hammer into me along my shoulder blade in a puncture of violent pain that shoots down the length of my arm. The force of the blow knocks me forward, and I fall to my knees, catching myself on my hands as I cringe against the pain.
Pike quickly instructs, “On your side,” I immediately lie down when he strikes again.
“Ooow!” I scream as he kicks his booted foot into the same shoulder blade, followed by another excruciating blow, and then another. “PIKE!” I shriek in utter agony as I arch my back and roll on the floor, heaving through my breathless cries.
Pike drops beside me and brushes the hair away from my face as I writhe against the throbbing pain. He scoops me into his lap and holds me firmly against him while he whispers in my ear, “Just breathe. Calm down and just breathe,” over and over as he rocks me in a lulling sway.
“It hurts to breathe,” I strain. It hurts to talk too, like someone is stepping on my lungs.
“Talk to me.”
“There’s so much pressure in my chest and back.”
He picks me up off the floor and carries me in his arms to his bed where he lays me down on my back.
“Take slow, deep breaths, okay?” he says, and I try to steady my trembling breathing into smooth inhales and exhales. “That’s it. Just try to relax.”
I lie here for quite a while until the pain starts to dull into a continuous heated ache. After I take a few Tylenol, I shift to my side, bringing my shoulder off the bed to relieve some of the pressure. Pike spoons in behind me and lifts my top to bare my shoulder.
“Fuck,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“This looks really bad.”
“That’s the point, right?” I groan.
“Yeah,” he says. “This just already looks nasty.”
He gently plants a few kisses around my back where I hurt, and then drags his hand over my side and up my stomach. I push his hand away when he runs it over my breast.
“Not tonight,” I tell him.
“What’s going on?” he questions. I never turn down sex with Pike. It’s always been something I’ve needed. He’s my painkiller, taking away the ick in me, but for some reason, I don’t feel like I need it this time.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I just . . . I’m okay. I don’t know why I feel this way, but I do.”
“Come here,” he says as he gently helps me roll over to face him. “What’s going on?”
I see the confusion in him, but I feel it too. I’ve always been transparent with Pike, so I shrug and try to explain, “I don’t know. Everything has just been so crazy lately. Maybe I’m just distracted, but I feel like I’m okay to not have sex with you right now.”
“Are you sure? Because I worry about you. This worries me about you.”
“I’m okay,” I try to assure him.
“You’ve always needed me.”
“I still need you, Pike. I’m always going to need you,” I tell him and then give him a kiss.
We both linger in it for a moment before he pulls back and asks, “So how much longer do you think?”
“He’s pretty firm on having me to himself,” I explain. “He despises Bennett, so I don’t think this will stretch out too long. It’s hard to say though, but he’s really intense
. I think if he’s triggered at just the right moment, he would snap.”
“So you think he has it in him to kill Bennett?”
Swallowing hard, I think about what I know about Declan and answer honestly, “Yeah.” But the thought makes my gut twist, knowing that I’m about to ruin this man’s life by luring him into becoming a murderer. Pike and I always agreed from the start that we would make sure the blame lies elsewhere. It’s the only way to ensure we remain safe and can move on to our new life of wealth and satisfaction. With Bennett alone, this was so easy, but now having Declan involved has made it a little difficult for me to keep my focus.
IT’S BEEN HALF an hour since Declan went up to the rooftop deck. When I got here and he was helping me take my coat off, I flinched in pain. He’d demanded to see my back and when I showed him the black and purple bruises that cover most of my upper back, he lost his shit. I’ve never seen him so furious before. He then apologized and said he needed some space to calm down. He grabbed his coat and went up to his private deck and has been there ever since, leaving me here on his couch waiting for him. But the temperatures are in the negatives, and I’m worried.
I go ahead and shrug my coat on before walking up the stairs to the door that leads outside. I spot him through the window, sitting on one of the wicker chairs. He has his face hidden in his hands, leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees as the snow falls over him.
I feel like shit.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Pull your shit together; you’ve got a job to do.
My guilty conscience doesn’t abate. I care about Declan, and I don’t want to hurt him, but I have to. I have to make him feel this to drive him to kill Bennett. I just wasn’t prepared to feel this way. When I notice his shivering hands, I open the door and walk over to him. He doesn’t move as I kneel down in front of him, bracing my hands on his knees.
“Declan.” My voice is soft as I speak to him. “It’s freezing out here. You’re going to make yourself sick.”
