by Lola StVil
“Take Me”
Dirty Ever After (Book 4)
By- Lola StVil
Copyright © 2019 by Lola StVil
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
He may be a husband but he's also an Alpha. And what he wants, he takes.
I love my wife too much. Crave her too much. But I can’t help it. I’m her husband and I can never get enough of her. And I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure she’s safe. She says I’m over protective. Yeah, I am. She’s mine and I won’t allow anything to happen to her.
I’m a former MMA fighter turned CEO, I make good money and make sure she has everything she needs. So when she says she’s taking a job from a guy known in town for getting handsy, my answer is simple—no. But she makes up her own mind and goes to work for the jerk. Yeah, I follow her, just to make sure she’s okay. I watch her boss make a play for her—now all bets are off. I’ll teach him a lesson. And when I’m done, I’m gonna take care of my wife—I’ll teach her a very different lesson.
WARNING: He's an over-the-top, possessive, "take what he wants" Alpha. If you like that, then you're in for a nice (and dirty) ride. This is a safe, STAND ALONE, short story with no cliffhangers. ITS OVER THE TOP. And yes, there's a very happy ending. Readers 18 yrs and up.
CHAPTER ONE
ELLE
What do people think of when they think of the name Elle Morris? Wife. Mother. Homemaker. I love being all those things. The twins, Jody and Keira, are still my babies, even at fourteen, although they would both prefer I not describe them that way publicly. Naturally, knowing this means I’m much more likely to do it. And then there’s Falcon, my husband.
Even after fifteen years of marriage, I still love him every bit as much as I did in the beginning. Maybe even more so. I still love the pants off him—literally. He used to be an MMA fighter, and although he retired from the sport and now works as the CEO of an investment banking company, he has never let himself go physically.
He still works out five times a week, and fuck me, does it show. He has washboard abs and a chest to die for. His sparkling green eyes and mess of blond hair make him look younger than his years, and just looking at him is enough to get me wet. We used to have a fucking awesome sex life, but now we don’t get it as often as I’d like us to, with the girls and Falcon’s job taking up so much of our time. But when we do, he still completely rocks my world, making me come hard and fast, and yes after all these years, he still makes me weak inside.
So yes, I’m happy. I know I have the sort of life a lot of women would kill for: a big house, a nice car, nail appointments, spa days, a full name-brand wardrobe, and I even get to do brunches. But lately, it’s not enough, and I’ve found myself questioning my identity more and more in recent years.
When Falcon and I got married, I had big dreams. I was going to be a corporate litigator, like one of those glamorous women you see on TV who make mincemeat of their opponents in court and have this air about them that says don’t fucking mess with me.
But then I got pregnant, and I dropped out of law school. It was the right choice at the time. I wanted so badly to be a good mom and stay at home with my girls, and Falcon was making enough money from his fighting that we could afford for me to stay home. And then he moved into the CEO position, and to say we’re well off is an understatement.
I have been thinking about all this for at least a year now, and it hit me this morning what I want to do. I want to go back to work. Not as an attorney; I really don’t like the idea of going back to college and interning for partners who are younger than me. But I feel like, at thirty-four, it’s time I made my mark on the world and accomplished something that’s just for me.
The twins are fourteen now, old enough to be home alone for a couple hours after school, and now is the perfect time for me to start searching for a job. It’s summer vacation, and my parents took the twins on a month-long trip around Asia. After they left yesterday, I realized the house was too empty—too quiet, and Falcon seems to be working longer and longer hours.
I’m done with rattling around our big old house all alone, bored and unfulfilled. It’s time for me to take the plunge. I know Falcon won’t be happy about it. He takes protective to a ridiculous place. He sees the world as dangerous and me as his fragile little wife to be locked away from danger.
Okay, that’s not entirely fair. Falcon is a good husband. I have a good life. And I suppose his protectiveness is kind of sweet. But I’m not made of paper, and it’s time for me to venture out into the world.
I made my mind up for sure last night that it’s time for me to do this, and I plan to tell Falcon my plans over breakfast. He and I will have an early breakfast before he starts stressing over the day’s work, so it’ll be the perfect time to talk to him.
I’m kind of nervous as I walk down the wide sweeping staircase that dominates the center of our home and go through to the kitchen, where Falcon is already sitting down with the morning paper, a cup of coffee, and a bagel. Beside him are a cup for me and a bowl of cereal with the milk ready to be added at the last minute because I hate soggy cereal. I smile to myself. It’s so sweet that Falcon always prepares my breakfast for me like this.
I stand in the kitchen doorway, watching him for a moment as he frowns at what he’s reading. His suit is immaculate, and I feel a rush of desire go through me as I look at him. He looks hot in anything, but there’s just something about him in a suit that never fails to make me wet, and now is no exception.
I wonder what he would do if I walked over there, swiped the breakfast onto the floor, and climbed up onto the table, demanding he eat me for breakfast. There was a time when I wouldn’t have hesitated to do it, but I know Falcon will have to leave for work soon. I sigh as I imagine what could have been.
Falcon looks up at my sigh. He smiles and puts the newspaper down.
“Morning, honey. What’s up?” he says.
I smile and shake my head and go to sit down beside him. I take a long sip of coffee and moan appreciatively.
“Nothing,” I say. “I was just appreciating the view.”
He laughs and leans over and kisses me. He looks at me as he pulls away, and for a second, I see that glint in his eye. The one that says he’s going to take me upstairs and fuck me until I am sore.
“The view from over here is pretty damn good too.” He winks.
“Do you remember when the twins were little? Babies really. And we knew they’d sleep for a couple hours in the afternoon. You’d come home from work, and we’d make love.”
“How could I forget?” Falcon laughs. “God, those were the days, weren’t they? Shame I’m an old man now and past my fighting days.”
“Hey, less of the old. I’m only two years behind you, you know.”
“Yeah, but you don’t look a day older than the day I married you,” he says.
“Liar.” I laugh.
He laughs with me and then he sighs.
“Funny how having a real job means you can’t just run out in the middle of the day.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say quietly.
I pour milk on my cereal and begin to eat it.
“Yeah, you’re lucky,” he says.
I frown at him, and he smiles.
“I’m not teasing you, Elle. I love being able to give you the life you deserve. You’re far too g
ood to be slaving away at a desk all day.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that,” I say. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently. And I’ve decided I want to go and get a job. The girls are old enough that they don’t need me to be here when they get home from school anymore, and I feel like it’s time for me to spread my wings a little bit, you know?”
He doesn’t respond immediately, and I work on my breakfast, which I’m suddenly not hungry for, while I wait for him to digest what I’m saying.
CHAPTER TWO
FALCON
My wife is fucking gorgeous. There’s not a moment that goes by when I’m not by her side that I’m not thinking about her. Just looking at her is enough to make my cock hard, and this morning is no exception. And that was before she started talking about us fucking in the middle of the day. I wish we could do that now. I’d give anything to slip out in the middle of the day and make Elle come like I used to. But I have a real job now, a busy, damn stressful one, and I can’t just leave whenever I want to.
I know I could find something else. When I quit the MMA, I was offered a job as a trainer, but there’s no real money in it, and Elle and the twins deserve the best. That means I need to make money. Real money. The kind that means Elle can stay home and I don’t have to worry about her.
She says I’m overprotective, and in some ways, I am, but New York can be a dangerous place, and the thought of anything happening to her kills me. I need to know she’s home safe and sound, or off having brunch with her girlfriends in the sort of establishment where nothing problematic is allowed to happen.
I know where my issues come from, but understanding it and being able to let it go are two completely different things. I was seventeen when it happened. My dad got made redundant, which in the corporate world, means they either replaced him or cut his position completely, and the small pay that came with it only went so far, and my mom had to go out to work to keep the family afloat. On her third day at her job, she was murdered. Shot down like a rabid fucking dog in the street. I saw what that did to my dad. I won’t let anything like that happen to Elle. I vowed it that day, and I know it now.
Her bombshell about wanting to go out to work hits me like a train. How can she even suggest such a thing? It wouldn’t be safe. And we don’t need the money. I look at her, waiting patiently for my answer.
Her brown hair sits on her shoulders, the blonde highlights shining in the morning sun that streams into the kitchen. She hasn’t put any makeup on yet, and her skin is radiant, her cheeks pink. I feel my cock stiffen as she puts her spoon into her mouth, her full lips wrapping around it for a moment. I imagine her lips somewhere else, like wrapped tightly around my cock, and I have to shift in my chair slightly to stop my cock from poking a hole in my pants.
“Look, Elle, if you’re bored, you can join a club or something. Don’t your friends hold a book club on Tuesday afternoons?” I say.
She rolls her eyes.
“I can read here, Falcon. I’m not just some bored housewife with no life. I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything,” I say.
“You have two beautiful daughters, Elle. Two girls you have brought up, loved, and taught to be the amazing, intelligent young women they are. How can you say that?”
She shakes her head.
“That’s not what I meant. I mean professionally, like something just for me. I always wanted a career, Falcon; you know that. And when the girls came along, we always said I would return to work once they were old enough, and they’re more than old enough now.”
“I always thought that was if money was tight. It’s not like we need the money, is it?” I say.
“It’s not about the money, Falcon. Why aren’t you listening to me? This is about me. It’s something I want to do just for me. I give every bit of myself to the family, and don’t get me wrong; I love that I can do that. I love the girls and you and what we have here. But I feel like it’s time for me to aim for something more.”
She’s starting to get upset, and I force myself to really think about what she’s saying. She feels unfulfilled. I get that. I think I would feel the same if I didn’t go to work every day. It gives a person a sense of purpose outside of being a spouse, a parent. I nod my head slowly.
“Okay, honey, I’m hearing you. What sort of thing are you thinking?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I guess I’ll have to see what’s out there and see what I can do.”
“Well, let me know when you have an idea of the kind of thing you’d like to do, and I’ll arrange for you to get started.”
“What do you mean, you’ll arrange it?” she asks.
“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? You can come and work at Kinetic Investments.”
She slams her hand down on the table and rolls her eyes.
“For fuck’s sake, Falcon, what part of this are you not getting? I don’t want some invented job to make myself feel better. I want a real job, a job that I get based on my skills, and I won’t have you patronizing me like this,” she snaps.
She’s angry now, and her anger is infectious. She’s saying I don’t get it. How does she not get it? How does she not understand that she’s putting herself in danger and the idea of anything happening to her terrifies me?
“Dammit, Elle. I won’t stand by and let you put yourself in danger like this,” I shout.
Her face softens as she looks at me. She reaches out and puts her hand on mine. Even now when she’s in the process of dropping this bombshell on me, I feel a spark where she touches me, and I feel an instant twitch in my cock.
“I’m sorry, Falcon,” she says. “I know you think you’re keeping me safe, but what happened to your mom won’t happen to me. You’re not keeping me safe. You’re keeping me prisoner, and it’s too much. I need to do this, and I need to do it on my own. Can you understand that?”
Her words cut me like a knife. I’m keeping her a prisoner. Is that really what I’m doing? Am I hiding her away from the world rather than protecting her from it? I look into her eyes, and they beg me to understand, to let her do this.
I want to put my foot down, to tell her no way, but I can’t. She’s not my possession, she’s my wife, and the day we took our vows, I took a couple of my own. To keep her safe always, and to make her happy every single day for the rest of my life. And she’s apparently not happy. I have to find a way to let go a little bit, to let her spread her wings and go out into the world.
I turn my hand in hers, gripping her wrist and pulling her to her feet. I pull her into my lap, and she sits straddling me. I can see the desire in her eyes, and I know she can feel my now rock-hard cock pressing against her pussy through the flimsy little nightgown she’s wearing.
“I understand,” I say.
“Really?” she asks.
No, not fucking really. Really I want to lock her away and keep her all for myself.
“Really,” I agree.
She leans forward and brushes her lips across mine, wrapping her arms around my neck. I put my hands on her ass, pulling her closer to me. I run my hands down over her hips and feel the bare skin of her thighs. I push my hands underneath her nightgown, running them up over her hips and up her sides.
I kiss her thoroughly on the mouth, claiming it, reminding her that no matter where she might go, she is still all mine. I feel her skin break out in goose bumps as a shiver runs through her, and she moans into my mouth as I push my tongue into hers roughly.
She pushes one hand into my hair, grabbing a handful of it and pressing her lips tighter against mine. Her other hand tugs on my tie, loosening it.
God, I fucking love this woman. I move one hand from her side and slip it inside her panties, searching out her clit. She sucks in a breath when I find it, pulling back from my kiss, her head falling back. Her exposed throat is unmarked, a playground of untouched snow awaiting my touch. I run my tongue down it, kissing across her collarbone.
My cell phone rings, and I pause. I�
�m torn. I want nothing more than to fuck Elle right here, to claim her pussy and show her how much I want her, need her. But the ringtone my cell phone is making is reserved for my CFO, and if he’s calling me at this time of the morning, then something is seriously fucking wrong.
Elle’s face drops, and she gets up from my lap, my fingers slipping out her pussy as she does.
“Just go,” she sighs.
“Elle …” I start.
She forces a smile.
“It’s okay. I get it, Falcon. Go.” She smiles again, wider this time. “Maybe we can pick up where we left off when you come home tonight. It would certainly make the day more interesting thinking of what’s to come.”
I stand up and readjust my tie, nodding my head.
“Sounds like a plan. Love you,” I say, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. I take the call as I hurry away. I glance back as I leave the kitchen. Elle is sitting in her chair, her hands wrapped around her coffee mug. She looks sad, not even glancing in my direction.
If you did less of this and more of her, then maybe she wouldn’t have to look outside of your marriage to be fulfilled.
I shake my head. I can’t let myself think like that. I have a job to do, and if even half of what my CFO is saying is right, then we have a huge problem.
CHAPTER THREE
ELLE
After Falcon left yesterday morning, I made a few calls and soon learned of an opening that sounded like something I could do. A secretarial position at a firm not far from home, Magnet Multi-Media Solutions. I don’t know the first thing about multimedia—is there even more than one type of media?—but I figured as a secretary I’d be meeting and greeting, taking calls, making refreshments, and doing a bit of typing. Those are things I could do, and when I looked on the careers page of the company’s website, it cemented the idea in my head. They have an extensive employee training program, and I would be able to learn more about the business and maybe progress to a more senior role.
