Control (Kenshaw Ranch Book 4)

by Piper Frost

  Tommy Barns: Your turn Affton.

  The loudest, most obnoxious giggle squeals from me and I pull the sheet over my head, dying in laughter. How the hell are we in this situation right now? And how the hell am I going to get out of it? Easy, I just won't speak to him again. Block all contact after today. Easy. Safe. Corey will never find out.

  I move quickly and pull my tank top off, leaving it right next to me, then pull the sheet up to block anything that could be deemed too much, but expose enough that he gets the idea. I don’t respond with text. Just the picture.

  Tommy Barns: Fuck Beany. This is the best game I've ever fucking played.

  He sends another picture and I gasp when I open it.

  There's no blanket anymore. Just his hand holding himself.

  My shaking hand raises my phone closer to my face so I can rekindle my memory with his anatomy. Shit, why'd I leave that dick? Because it was in the south.

  Country girl at Hart: I like your sheet.

  I hit send then groan at my panicked response.

  Tommy Barns: I'm waiting Beany. It's your turn, don't chicken out on me now.

  Moving slowly, I push down my underwear, knowing how wrong this is, but I can't find guilt for cheating. The only thing I feel is an underlying fear of what he'd do to me if he found out. I wouldn't be in this relationship if I had other options that would guarantee my safety.

  My right hand slides over myself and I gasp when I feel how wet I am. I knew I was turned on, but I didn't realize I was drenched. Hooking my two middle fingers between my lips, I quietly moan and close my eyes briefly. Opening them, I snap the picture that hides most of my naked pussy but shows I have two fingers inside myself.

  Tommy Barns: Fuck Affton. Fuck!

  He's still typing so I wait eagerly, wondering how far we’ll take this. I shouldn’t take it any further, but I can’t seem to stop.

  Tommy Barns: Jo just called, I gotta run to the ranch. I'm so fucking sorry. Can we do this again?

  Not a chance in hell.

  Country girl at Hart: ; ) lol

  I delete that conversation then log off before deleting all traces of those pictures. I shove my phone away from me and recoil to the woman in my head chastising me like I’m insane. She knows what could happen if Corey found out, and the old Affton feels sorry for her. The old Affton is long gone and she needs to stay there because I will end up dead if she doesn’t. I usually have more control, but Tommy has always been able to bring out my wild side. Damn him for it because he doesn’t even realize how dangerous that side is acting right now.

  This can never happen again.

  I slowly dress and the second I pull my shorts up, the front door opens. My eyes spring wide and my heart goes wild, feeling like it’s crushing my lungs.

  “Af?” Corey calls out.

  “In bed!” I yell back, trying to calm the fluster in my voice.

  “What the fuck are you doing in bed?” he scoffs as he enters the room.

  “I’m feeling a little under the weather,” I lie because I should have been up at least two hours ago.

  “You’re being lazy.” He rolls his eyes but when he looks at me, the annoyance on his face shifts.

  Sickness washes over me and all trace of lust I was feeling is gone, but that won’t stop Corey, especially because he doesn’t know what I was feeling ten minutes before he got home. When he stalks toward me, I want to cry, run and hide, but I diligently smile and prepare for the act.

  When he finds me wet already, I squeeze my eyes closed as they fill with tears. I haven’t been aroused for him in a long time, and I haven’t allowed him to find me aroused over personal fantasies. The way he pauses, breathing heavily as he holds me down to the bed, I prepare to get hit. I can’t see his face right now, but I don’t want to. I just start to reel back. He doesn’t hit me though, he rips at my clothes, tearing them from my body. He ravishes me, and the entire time, I think about Tommy. Keeping my eyes closed and my hands twisted in my messy long hair, I picture it’s Tommy fucking me hard and fast.

  I fall to the bed next to him, completely satisfied and that hasn’t happened since the beginning. Looking over at him, I smile, pushing my hair from my face. I barely get time to gauge his expression before he wraps his hand in my hair and pulls me from the bed. I’m dragged into the bathroom and he opens the medicine cabinet.

  “I hate all this fucking hair!” his voice booms right before I hear the scissors attack my beautiful long hair. “What had you so wet, Af?” he screams at me, chopping at my hair. “Why did I come home to find your disgusting cunt drenching our fucking sheets?” He’s chopping and pulling and I know his fists are going to follow. He stops cutting at my hair and he swings. The scissors gouge into my shoulder and I let out a scream. “Tell me!” He swings again and the scissors slice across my breast.

  “Please!” I run for the bedroom.

  I’m terrified of his fists, but he’s never used a weapon before! I jump onto the bed and scramble away from him, but he lunges for me. I try to throw myself off the bed but his body weight holds me down and he keeps swinging. He’s abandoned the scissors and it’s only his fists now. I block my face as much as I can but my nose is pouring blood along with the scissor slices.

  My beautiful white bed set is now stained with blood, and the crisp, sunny feel my room had this morning is tainted with so much hatred and pain.

  *

  I dress accordingly to hide the bruises on my body. He hasn’t beaten me that bad in almost a year. It was the first time he actually beat me and didn’t only hit me once. His fists rained so much hell onto my face, I couldn’t hide it with makeup. I had to take the week off before the swelling and bruises faded sufficiently to hide them. This time around, I was smart enough to block my face as much as possible, and though I’m hiding bruises, the swelling and nasty marks are mostly covered from the neck down.

  “Affton!” Diamond blurts, running into my office and she stops short. “You cut your hair! Love it!” she squeals and I touch my messy chin length bob.

  After Corey hacked at my hair, I trimmed it off enough so my hair stylist wouldn’t question what the hell happened, then I covered my bruises and went to see her for an emergency fix. It’s cute and flirty, but it’s not my hair that I absolutely loved. Everyone used to tell me my hair was so long and pretty. Tommy used to twirl it around his fingers when…

  “Thanks.” I smile.

  “Affton, look at this message,” she whispers and rushes my desk with a tablet.

  The second I see her pull up a DM from Bo, my heart sinks. He’s probably bitching me out for not being able to contact me again since we last talked.

  Bo Hart: This is fucking unbelievable Affton! You’re a real piece of work, you know that? I thought after you called the other day, maybe you realized how much of bitch you’d been and I’d be able to get ahold of you without having to get online. I shoulda known better.

  Mom died and God knows you ain’t gonna rush on home to help with the funeral but I’d hope you have enough decency in your bones to come pay your respects. We’re planning on the funeral being next Wednesday. If you ain’t here, have a nice life sister.

  I reread that whole thing twice, thinking I’m misreading it. My mom’s dead. My mom was only sixty-five. All the stress she endured from Bo and my dad probably did this to her. Not that she was guilt free of creating her own stress. My mom loved drama and anywhere she could stir it up, she would. I get goosebumps thinking about how miserable my mom used to make my life because she lived for causing havoc. But now that she’s gone, guilt punches me in the gut because I haven’t talked to her in almost two years, and when we talked last it was for her to tell me her sister died and she wanted to know if I’d come to the funeral. I declined because I didn’t know the woman; my mom always hated her.

  “Shit,” I whisper and look at Diamond.

  “You want me to book a flight to… Where are you from?”

  “No.” I stand. “Thank you.
I’ll…I’ll figure this out.” Corey won’t let me go to that funeral without him, and I can’t allow him to come home with me. “Diamond,” I say as she takes the tablet. “Please don’t tell Corey,” I whisper, the expression on my face pleads with her.

  I think Diamond’s picked up on something not being right between us, but she’s never stepped in to meddle or said anything.

  With a sorry expression, she nods and leaves my office.

  My entire body starts to shake while I devise my plan to get home without Corey tagging along. I can’t fly because he’ll see where I’m headed, so I have to drive. There are a few clients that he has no contact with because they’re not mighty enough for him, and I’m terrified right now, but I’m going to use one of them as an excuse to get away for two and half days. I’ll show up the day before. It’ll take almost a day to drive there but I’ll still have enough time for a few hours of sleep. Then I can leave straight from the funeral.

  “Corey,” I quietly say as I enter his office. Stopping in my tracks, fear makes me go pale. I didn’t realize he had people in his office.

  “This, gentlemen, is my beautiful wife, Af.”

  The three men all bob and nod, muttering hello and smiling, and I do the same.

  “I’m very sorry. I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.” When I turn for the door, Corey speaks up.

  “Nonsense, Af. Come in, join us.”

  Join us? What the hell for? He never has me join him.

  Walking toward me with his arm out, he wraps it around me and his fingers dig into my side, right where he knows is the worst bruise he delivered. I grit my teeth to keep from yelping and I allow him to pull me farther inside his office.

  “This is Jonathan, Nick, and Drake from Cultured Relief.”

  Cultured Relief is much larger than Trenton, and that happened within the past year. Corey’s been dying to sit down with these men to talk merging, but no company would be so stupid. Trenton’s been around much longer. That’s like sitting on your pervy grandpa’s lap because he asks you to.

  “Nice to meet you, gentlemen.” These men are much, much younger than I’d expect from that company. The fashion they promote, create, and sell are all geared toward the younger generation, but these three guys seem smarter beyond the years they appear to be.

  “Af handles public relations here at Trenton. If there’s something I want, I sick her on it.” Corey laughs and the men all smile.

  “Ah, you have beautiful women do your dirty work. Probably works like a charm.” One of the men winks at me as he stands and I quickly look at Corey, but keep a smile on my face.

  While they say goodbye, I keep my sight on my husband because I don’t want to be accused of flirting. I briefly shake their hands and when one of them lingers too long, I start to sweat and quickly yank my hand away. He doesn’t notice because he’s distracted talking to Corey, but I hope Corey doesn’t blame that on me.

  “Thank you for coming in. Please close the door on the way out.”

  The youngest looking one of the three gives Corey a knowing grin, probably thinking my doting husband wants to enjoy his wife in private for a moment. The only thing he wants to enjoy is making me hurt, guy.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were in a meeting,” I begin to apologize when the door closes.

  “It’s fine. Hopefully you’ll be seeing more of those men. I need your charm to reel them in, Af. They’re hard to crack,” he goes on muttering, pinching his bottom lip and I hate this calculating idiosyncrasy he does. I used to find it cute, but nothing about the man is cute anymore.

  “I’d be happy to try.”

  With a scowl, he pulls himself out of his thoughts and looks at me. “I’m sure you would.”

  “Not like that, Corey,” I insist and move closer, reaching out to touch him. “You’re the only man I need. You know that.” I drag my fingernails over his jaw, knowing how to tame the devil sometimes.

  “Some days I think you hate me.” He moves closer and positions me to lean against his desk before boxing me in. “I don’t want to hurt you, Af, but you’re so naïve and I just want to teach you.”

  “I know.” I drag my hand down his tie. “And you have taught me so much. I love you, Corey.” The acid from my stomach begins to creep up my throat, but lying is better than getting hurt.

  “I know you do.” He grins and grips the back of my neck, his fingers digging into a bruise and I close my eyes, inhaling a breath, but he kisses me anyway. Pulling back he wipes his lips then checks his hand for lipstick, but it’s set. “What’d you come in here for? I’m sure a different reason than to tempt me in this outfit.” He looks me from head to toe and grabs the erection in his slacks and grunts. “I would like to bend you over this fucking desk.” His hand begins to stroke through the fabric and I need a way to get out of this situation without me turning him down.

  “You know I’m too loud for office sex.” I bite my lip and nonchalantly move away from him.

  “I do make you squeal like a pig.” He starts to laugh.

  “Oh! That reminds me.” I use his words as an opportunity to get his mind off sex. “Pilar Vasquez needs me in Vegas next Wednesday.”

  “Who?”

  “Pilar. He’s the client that has a designer line for farm animals. He likes pigs.”

  “Ah, the French fuck that thinks he’s a fucking hick. I don’t think even the confederate boys in the south would want his ass. Southern people may be dumb as fuck but they know a traitor when they smell his expensive cologne made out of pig piss.”

  With no idea what he’s even insinuating, I start to laugh so I don’t piss him off. Pilar’s not a traitor. He’s never wronged our company. And his profit isn’t large enough for Corey to notice, but I know without the small-end clients, we wouldn’t be where we are.

  “What’s he need you for? He gonna put you in a new design he’s made for his pigs?” He laughs and I drop my head. “Come on, Af, I’m kidding.” He walks toward me and pushes my chin up. He’s in a rather good mood today. Normally he’d dismiss me from his sight. “You know you’re beautiful. That’s why I married you. Does it look like I marry pigs?”

  “Then why do you always call me one?” I ask in a small tone I have to force because my head wants me to shut the hell up.

  He wasn’t prepared for me to talk back and he steps away from me. I see his eyes flash to the window in his office that oversees the entire floor and I thank God the blinds are open.

  “Next Wednesday until when?” he snaps at me.

  “I’ll leave Tuesday and be back Thursday. No need to fly me. I’ll just drive so I don’t have to rely on taxis while I’m there. Won’t be longer than two and half, three days.”

  “And it’s a necessity you go? You can’t just handle whatever the situation is over the phone?”

  “Well, Verde clothing—”

  “I don’t give a shit about the man’s problems, Af. Just handle them so we can continue to look like we don’t favor big names over all the small charity cases.”

  Beany Designs was a small charity case, but at the beginning Corey made me think he was actually proud of my hard work…

  The bruises on my face have faded some, but not enough to not use makeup to hide them. Not until I’m a few hours into my drive do I start to get nervous. I can’t stay with Bo…he fucking hates me. I refuse to stay with my father. I’d sooner sleep in the Kenshaw barn. The only person I can ask is Tommy, and I know if I tell him to keep this visit sweet and simple he will. Meaning, I’m not here to catch up and rekindle our friendship or lust for each other.

  Shit…I should have told him I’m married before we did what we did. But he can find out now, and maybe he won’t persistently flirt with me.

  I hit dial and both my hands tightly grip the steering wheel while the phone rings loudly over my speakers.

  “Barns Veterinarian services, this is Tommy.” I don't recognize the number so I answer it like it's a business call. It's probably ju
st a wrong number. The area code isn't even from around here.

  “To—” The person on the line clears their throat. “Tommy?”

  “The one and only.” I smirk. “Sorry, yes. This is Tommy, how can I help you?” I'm one elbow deep in cow shit and if I drop this phone in this pile I'm fucking burning it. Sometimes this job's the shit. Other days this job literally has me playing in shit.

  “It's me...it's Affton,” the unfamiliar voice says and I chuckle. This is not Affton. This person's got the most city tone I've ever fuckin' heard. Affton would never sound like this.

  “Funny. Who the hell is this?” I grunt and take a step back, yanking off my glove and tossing it to the ground.

  “My mother died,” the voice clips. “I'll be in town in six hours and I need a place to stay. Just until the funeral tomorrow. Listen, no questions. No...small talk. I just need somewhere to sleep. I haven't slept in almost three days.”

  “No que—” I stop myself. I heard Bo's mom died. I was planning on going to the funeral. But..Affton? “That really you, Beany?” My stomach drops and I have to sit down. “Affton?” I whisper after a moment of silence from her.

  The woman huffs. “Yeah, it's me.” I've experienced a range of emotions from Affton, but I've never heard this tone from her. This ain't my girl.

  “Hell,” I puff. “You're...coming? Here? Home?” And she wants to stay with me? “How long?”

  “Just tonight.” She sounds annoyed. “The funeral is tomorrow and directly after it, I'm leaving.”

  “Wow. I uh, yeah. Sure. Yes, of course,” I stammer, getting to my feet. My heart's racing. I'm going to see her in a few fucking hours and I smell like motherfucking cow shit! “Hey, I'll message you my address, okay? I gotta finish up some work and you shouldn't be driving and talking. So uh... I'll see you soon, okay?” There's a smile on my face and I'm not sure when it got there. It definitely should not be there with the current situation of her mom's death, but I can't break it.