by Cole, S. Ann
Every. Single. Day.
And now, she wanted to talk. Plus, she was wringing her hands in her lap — not at all Axia’s style. His fiancée was a total badass, she didn’t do nervous. She shot straight and told it like was.
Lovello tried combating the burn starting behind his eyes at the mere thought of Axia leaving him. Saying it’s over. Taking their daughter …
But he glanced down at her protruding, seven-month-old stomach and pushed back the burning sensation, feeling stupid. She wouldn’t leave me while she’s pregnant.
“So, I’ve been thinking … ” she trailed off, staring down at her twisting hands.
Slipping a finger under her chin, he tipped her head up. “What is it?”
“Let’s … let’s get married.”
Lovello felt a grin take up residence on his face at the same time he released a relieved sigh. “Beauts, I’ve been saying that for the past five or so years.”
Leaning in to him, she brushed her thumb over his lower lip, staring at them as she said, “I know. But I’ve always been afraid.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know,” she groaned, sounding frustrated with herself, while her eyes remained on his lips. She’d always been obsessed with his lips. Just to screw with her, he licked them, and, as expected, her breathing hitched.
“But, I’m not afraid anymore,” Axia continued. “I know now you won’t ever leave me. I know now you’ll never change into some unidentifiable monster. I know now you won’t become bored and cheat on me with some long-legged model, secretly lavishing her with expensive jewelry, buying her cars, and paying her rent. I know now I’m it for you, so, I’m saying yes. I’ll marry you.”
Lovello raised a brow at her. He would never cheat on her. Never. She was indeed it for him. Full stop. However, he would much prefer to not be so transparent, he preferred to retain a bit of mystery to him, thank you very much. He would prefer it if she had even the tiniest bit of doubt and mistrust in him. If she didn’t, then he was just a pansy of some sort, wasn’t he?
“How are you so positive that I’ve never cheated on you?”
Axia’s lips crooked up in an evil grin as she finally pulled her eyes away from his lips and met his gaze. “Because,” she dragged out. “I’ve had a PI on you for over a year.”
What? “What?”
“You heard me.” She shrugged, as if she had every right. “You were a womanizer before me. I had to be sure that one woman and a baby — two now — would be enough to make you settle.”
Lovello shot up from the sofa, hands balled into tight fists. He glared at her, lost for words and began pacing the room. He could not believe she did that! For over a year she was spying on him? All this time he thought she genuinely trusted him. But no, she needed solid proof before she could give him her trust. Why was he even surprised? This was Axia goddamn Blacksille, he should’ve seen this coming.
He stopped pacing and pointed an angry finger in her face, unable to come up with anything coherent except, “If we were married, I’d divorce you, you … you vile, manipulative, deceiving bitch!”
Axia slapped his hand from her face and tried to spring up from the sofa to face him, but wobbled and fell back down. Lovello caught her arms and helped her up.
His fiancée was a woman who hated feeling inferior. She liked to fight eye to eye, and just as much, he liked having her angry pussycat-gray eyes glaring up at him — a definite turn on. So he helped her to her feet.
When she made it to her feet, she pointed a slim, well-manicured finger in his face, just as he did her. “You hypocrite! Don’t you dare stand there and judge me! I did what I had to do to make sure you’re mine only, just like you did what you had to do to make sure I remain yours.”
Lovello bit down on his lip and eyed her warily. She couldn’t possibly know, could she?
Jutting her finger further in his face so it was pressing against his forehead, she answered his unasked question, “Yes, I know you got me pregnant again on purpose!”
“How?”
“Seriously? Love, you are the sloppiest person I’ve ever met in my entire life. Did you really expect me to not find out?” She laughed derisively. “I was putting your phone on the charger one night when a text came in from Marian, my doctor, telling you I’m ovulating. That’s how.”
Uh-oh.
Lovello was kind of a sloth. If Axia didn’t charge his phone, it never got charged. So he should’ve thought about that and used emails instead. However … “If you knew I was trying to knock you up, why were you always so responsive to me? You never once said no.”
Sighing, Axia came up to him and hugged him as close as her stomach would allow. “Because, one, I can never resist your touch. And, two, I wanted you to get me pregnant. I love being a mother, and I especially love being your bitch.”
Lovello released a sigh of his own and kissed the top of her head. He didn’t know what else to say except he loved her. Every part of her. To bits and pieces. She was his life, his all, his dream, his wet-dream, his past, and his future.
The thought of death one day ripping them apart forced a tear from his eye. He wished life wasn’t temporary, so that he could have this woman and her love in his arms for eternity. He wished there would be no end to their story, that it could go on and on. He wished they would never have to become history, but that time would stand still and let them live and love forever.
Hearing her sniffle, he had a feeling she felt the same. Love could be as powerful as that sometimes.
Axia tilted her head back and peered up at him with watery eyes. “Love … ” she trailed off.
Taking a deep breath, he said, “I know.”
They stood that way for a long time, both wishing life and love was eternal.
“Mommy, Daddy, are we still going over to Granddaddy’s for Thanksgiving dinner?”
Their daughter’s voice broke through the moment, bringing them back to now.
Lovello glanced down at his Richard Mille watch and saw they had less than fifteen minutes to get to the dinner. “Oh shit.”
Axia swore too, and at that, they both froze and looked at each other. Turning to Lovette, they said in unison, “Still a bad word.”
Folding her lips, Lovette nodded.
Axia rushed to get her purse while Lovello grabbed up Lovette, tucking her to his side. In the next minute, they were bustling out of the house.
Marcello was going to flip his shit.
Trev & Krissy
Part 1
“Krissannnnn! Quit fucking around and make me fucking come! We’re gonna be late.”
One second his cock was in her mouth, and the next second it wasn’t, and in the next second, her palm was slapping his face. “I told you not to swear, and you did. Twice.”
Trevillo wasn’t happy.
His entire body was seized with need, every sense heightened, his dick throbbing and begging for release, and this little vixen was fucking with him.
But what could he do about it? He was cuffed to the goddamn bed.
An hour ago, they’d been dressed and ready for the family’s Thanksgiving dinner, planning to arrive earlier than everyone else to get on Marcello’s good side.
Krissan asked him to fasten her necklace for her. But as he tried carrying out the effortless task, he couldn’t resist kissing her neck. Then, he couldn’t stop kissing her neck. Then, his ever-willing wife turned around, and their lips collided. Then, they were naked. Now, here he was, standing at the side of the bed with one hand cuffed to one of the end posts.
It never got old with them.
Narrowing his eyes, he hissed out, “We’re going to be late, and Marcello’s going to kill us.”
Unperturbed, Krissan shrugged and took a step away from him. “I’m not un-cuffing you until you come.”
Trevillo leaned forward, getting in her face. “Then get back down on your knees and put my fucking cock in your mouth.”
Smirking, she drawled, “As if I�
�ll make it that easy for you. I told you not to swear and you did, so … ” she trailed off and sashayed farther away from him, down to the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but black stilettos.
Climbing onto the bed, she kept her knees right on the edge and bent over doggy-style, taunting him with her glistening pink lips, wet and open. Trevillo bit down on his bottom lip and curled his toes to calm his frantic, overexcited nerves.
Little Minx.
Krissan slid a hand through her parted thighs and began pleasuring herself as she mumbled into the sheets, “If you don’t find a way to get over here, I’m gonna come without you, leave you cuffed to the bed, and go to the dinner by myself. And no, self-induced orgasm doesn’t count. You have to come inside me if you want me to un-cuff you.”
Trevillo wanted to strangle her, that’s what he wanted. He always let her restrain him because he fucking loved it, but whenever he failed her tests or broke her rules, she always did some frustrating shit like this.
Eyeing the hand cuffed to the bedpost and the distance between them, he took as many steps as his restraint allowed, but still couldn’t reach her. It was pointless. He almost resigned himself to her punishment until he heard her emit a deep, throaty moan.
No, can do. He needed to be inside her. Now.
Trevillo moved forward again until the handcuffs bucked with a light jingle on the bedpost. His height blessed him with flexible long legs, so he tossed one leg up on the bed, hooked his foot around her right thigh, and yanked.
Krissan fell flat on her face with an “oomph”, causing her right arm to flail out close enough to him. He quickly grabbed her arm with his free hand and hauled her tiny ass across the bed to him.
He singlehandedly brought her under his control and set her back up to her knees. She giggled at the swift and unexpected takeover, but Trevillo wasn’t in the laughing mood.
His free hand kept her still by gripping her waist.
Bringing his lips to her ear, he hissed, “How many times do I have to tell you, Krissan? Even when I’m restrained, I’m still the one in control. Quit fucking with me!”
He nudged his throbbing head at her soaked entrance, waited a second for her to catch her breath, and sent himself the fuck home. Deep — where he knew no man, other than him, ever reached.
“Ohhhhhgod!” she cried out, her back instinctively arching up at his forceful cock-slam.
Trevillo used his forearm to keep her back straight. She was going to take it just as he gave it tonight. “Stay the fuck down,” he growled. “I’m going to fuck you so deep and so hard, when we walk into the dinner tonight, people are going to take one look at you and know what the fuck we’ve been up to.”
His wife let out a long, loud moan in response. Threats like that only served to get her riled up even more. She didn’t fear him or the wrath of his dick. She embraced it.
Most times, she screamed muddled things, like now: “Ohgodmigod, Trev, yesyes! Love much so me love. Marry me. Please!”
“We’re already married,” he grunted, as he drilled harder, deeper.
“Okay … okay … then,” she panted out, “then make me come. Hard. Shatter my brain, Trev.”
God, I love this woman.
“Roger that.”
Afterwards, they both began scrambling around the bedroom, hurriedly getting redressed for the dinner. This was typical for them when they were supposed to go anywhere together. They tended to get … distracted.
As Trevillo stood at the dresser fastening his belt buckle, he noticed, in the reflection of the mirror, Krissan was moving a little suspiciously over by the chest of drawers.
Her underwear drawer was open, and she furtively shuffled around in the drawer, while keeping an eye over her shoulder to watch his movements.
Acting normal, as if he hadn’t noticed, he shrugged on his suit jacket and said, “Hurry, babe.”
At that, she closed her fist around something, something minuscule, shut the drawer, and sidled towards the door, throwing him a “Ready when you are. Meet you by the elevator.”
As she slipped through the bedroom door, Trevillo wasted no time in quietly following her. He was out the door just in time to see her pop whatever she held in her hand straight into her mouth, making a beeline for the kitchen.
She was hiding something from him.
Catching up with her in a few determined strides, he caught her arm before she could turn on the tap at the kitchen sink and spun her around to face him. “What did you just put in your mouth?”
Krissan’s eyes widened a fraction as guilt swept across her features. Her mouth wobbled as she tried to swallow whatever was in it, but Trevillo quickly grabbed her face and squeezed her cheeks to stop her.
“Don’t,” he warned. What the fuck was she hiding? “Let me see.”
She stared up at him in hesitant defiance, and he glowered down at her, challenging her bravado. She let out a resigned sigh and opened her mouth, revealing a tiny yellow pill sitting on her tongue. The same yellow pills he begged her to stop taking three years ago.
Birth control. She was still taking them. All this time. All this fucking time!
Trevillo felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, he couldn’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
Dropping his hand from her face, he did the best he could do at the time: turned and walked away from her, feeling like he was walking on air. Seeing nothing but black. Just black. Feeling like his lungs were failing him. His eyes burned, as if he’d been thrown into a room of fire and smoke. Dark, dusty, debris-carrying smoke. His chest burned, too. Even his heart. Every fucking thing burned.
Am I in hell or something? I know, I’ve sinned, quite a lot. But, I’ve also changed quite a lot. So, can a guy get a fucking break?!
His wife, the woman who meant the world to him, was deceiving him.
For three years.
For three goddamn years, he tried getting her pregnant, thinking she was off the pill. Because she told him she was off them. Because he, her husband, begged her to get the fuck off them.
At one point, he thought maybe she was barren and sent her to a specialist. Everything came back normal. But that’s because she’d lied to him, for three years. She didn’t want to have his kids. She didn’t love him. She lied. She didn’t love him. She lied. She didn’t love him.
Trevillo entered his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Numbly, he walked over to the dresser and pressed his palms flat on its cherry-wood surface, attempting to calm his nerves by taking a couple of deep inhales and steady exhales.
Nope. It wasn’t working.
With each deep breath he took, it felt like he was inhaling rage, his blood growing hotter and his vision waxing darker. He raised his head and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Hard blue eyes glared back at him. He was so ugly. He fucking hated himself. This shit hurts. Why didn’t she love him? Why didn’t she want his children? Why didn’t she love him?
A feral noise traveled up his burning throat and blasted out of his mouth the same time his fist smashed into the mirror. He watched as it shattered into sharp splinters and shards. That wasn’t enough. Rage was still there, roiling in his veins.
This. Shit. Fucking. Hurts!
With one swift movement of his right hand, he swept all the overpriced colognes neatly arranged on the dresser down to the floor, and watched as they all exploded into pieces, the strong scent of mixed fragrances swiftly rising in the air.
Letting rage manifest itself, he spun around and began ripping the bedroom apart, flipping every piece of worthless furniture on its head, breaking every breakable thing, ruining everything that could be ruined by his hands. Destroying.
He heard the bedroom door open, and from the periphery of his vision, he could see his wife approaching him with caution. “Stay the fuck back, Krissan.”
She stopped in her tracks, but sounded determined as she said, “You wouldn’t hit me.”
Of course he wouldn’t hit her! Was she fucking crazy?
She was his life, his future, his beginning, his fucking end. He never even thought of hurting her, even if she begged him to. But he couldn’t show that vulnerable side to her. Not tonight. He preferred it if she feared him.
Whirling around to face her, he spurned, “Shut it! You don’t know what the fuck I would or wouldn’t do.”
Squaring her shoulders, Krissan defiantly lifted her chin and said, “You promised me you’d never hurt me.”
Really?
“People break their promises, as much as people lie,” he gritted out. “Just as you lied to me. Been lying to me. For three years. Three. Fucking. Years! So don’t give me any bullshit about ‘promises’.”
Holding his glare without so much as blinking, she told him, “You keep your promises because you are a good person on the inside. Even though people take one look at you and see nothing but bad — the excessive use of swear words, the rebellious behavior, the arrogance, all the ugly — I know you and know you are good.
“With me, people take one look and see nothing but good, saintliness, purity, innocence — which is all an illusion. On the inside, I’m bad. I break my promises. I lie. I take and never give. I value pleasure more than morals. I let fear control me.”
“No shit,” he acrimoniously shot back.
Striding towards his wife, he cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head back so he could look deep into her beguiling eyes and tell her, “Krissan Nelson, you are the most selfish person I have ever met in my entire life. I’m wounded right now. Fucking broken.”
Shoulders slumping, eyes shuttering down, a sigh left her nostrils as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
She was sorry.
That was it.
She was sorry.
After three years of deceiving him, all she could say was she was sorry.
Trevillo’s hands fell away from her face, and he went to plop down on the end of the bed — the only piece of furniture in the room not toppled over on its head.
Dropping his face in his hands, he tried to be a man and keep his balls intact by not shedding a single tear, even though there was a strong burn behind his eyes.
