Chapter 6

SIX

ASA

It’s a Sunday. You know how I know? ’Cause I just had the worst wedding in history two days ago and have had to avoid my new so-called wife ever since. Which is not as easy as you’d think, despite the size of the mansion.

And especially difficult when I fucking hate being alone.

Saturday, I stayed in my room and jerked off so much I had to get some Vaseline for my dick. It was the only way to keep myself preoccupied over the panic constantly threatening to break my mind. Well, that and texting my boys incessantly. The staff brought me food to the guest room where I holed up, but they refused to bring me liquor. When I sneaked down to the dining room bar around three in the morning to grab some, it was all gone. None in my father’s office, the living room, or the basement rec room either.

If they put it all in the other wing, I’d never know. Not going down there.

Cass said the guards won’t let my pack inside the gates, which is ridiculous because they’re the only ones I can trust. He said the crew were looking into repayment on East Side, but I told them to drop it. I’m locked inside the source of my terror with a purely evil entity, some raging she-beast, but no one seems to care about that. If I can get some peace for a few days, no one blowing up anything, maybe my handler will let me out of prison.

Yesterday, I had to get out of these walls, or I was going to go nuts. I refuse to go to the other half of the house, the part I grew up in, my happy family home. Instead, I stuck to this section, but that’s also where she lives. So, I skirted the back hall to the gym, boxed for hours, sat in the sauna, and grabbed some food while avoiding her before making it back to my room. The exercise was the only thing that seemed to calm my anxiety.

The woman seems to have settled in like she owns the place. During one clandestine mission to grab some water, I heard her talking to Smeath about menus and even Kline interrupted to discuss funds for decorating. Decorating my house. That fucking asshole agreed to give her cash. Like loads of it.

If I can just use my charms to convince her to hand it over, I could at least get some weed. That’s it. That’s all I need right now. Just something to help me zone out so I can have that here-but-not-here feeling.

Sobriety hurts. Like, all over. Not to mention how utterly terrifying it all is. There’s nothing to keep my horrifying thoughts at bay. Threatening to intrude my brain with images of my parents splayed out on their graves. Ashley’s mangled body tossed onto my pristine front lawn like a beetle with its parts all smeared on the grass, ready to be taken over by maggots.

It haunts my dreams.

But the pain seems to have settled, especially in my testicles, which won’t seem to fully empty.

I’d kill for a blowjob. Even went searching for my gun at one point just to force her to do it, but gave up after another round of porn on the big screen.

Deciding to head to the backyard pool, the quiet one that no one ever goes to, I toss on some trunks and grab a towel. Plucking on my Ray-Bans, I give my hair a once-over. Perfect.

How does one get time away from their own mind without pharmaceutical help? I’m not sure, but I guess now is as good a time as any to figure it out. As I sneak out of the bedroom, I pop in an earbud and scan through my phone’s music for something to take me away, but stop short just outside the bedroom door.

The empress stands like a goddess, straightened to her full height—which isn’t much—wearing some frilly summer dress thing that shows off her voluminous set of tits and long legs to perfection.

When I first started playing around with them, I became a bit afraid of girls. Especially in high school. Unable to be faithful, I would creep around the halls just waiting for one to scream at me, blowing my cover about what I’d been up to the night before. I’ve had my tires punctured, gas tank filled with sugar, paint dropped on my head, got smacked, spit on, and punched over the years. It stopped bothering me by the time my parents were killed, and I had to take over the south. By that point, I was adept enough that I could apologize for anything and get my way with a smile, or women just didn’t care because they wanted the title of Mrs. King Consort of the South.

But this petite woman scares the ever-living shit out of me and my breath catches as she narrows her eyes when she scans me with an icy glare, my hand frozen on the doorknob.

Too terrified to speak, I wait for the banshee to shriek or cry again. But she only says, “I have a business proposition for you.”

Swallowing, I manage to muster out, “Oh yeah? What’s that?” My heart beats harder. What could she possibly want from me? A replacement wedding cake? I’ll give her whatever, if it will get her to stop crying.

“I want my boyfriend to come over.”

Fear transforms into rage. My chin drops as I choke on my spit, lip curling. “I’m sorry. Excuse me? Did you just ask your husband if your boyfriend can come over to my mansion?”

Her long red fingernails hook around a curvy hip as she relaxes, like she expected me to say this. “I need a relationship, love, and affection. Obviously, I’m not going to get it from you. So, I’m asking to let my boyfriend visit and I’ll be out of your hair.”

My head shakes rapidly as I try to compute how this little empress developed such audacity. “Sweet lips, that is not a proposition. Usually, there’s some give and take. You’re just demanding for someone outside our marriage to come fuck you when you won’t even let me.”

Pursing that beautiful mouth of hers, she responds, “If he can come over, you can have whoever you want. I-I won’t care.” The muscles of her neck tighten as she swallows and, for a moment, I think I see some vulnerability there.

Women always say they’ll keep it casual, like they don’t mind that I’m involved with other people, but they always do. This is a fucking trap if I ever heard it.

My stomach turns sour when I think about my wife, the one I was hoping would be something more like a soulmate, requesting someone else to fulfill her needs. Already. Like, two days into our marriage. It’s almost a TKO.

But I’m a fighter.

Crossing my arms, I stare down at the little spitfire. “No.”

Her jaw drops as she gasps. “No? You’re telling me no? I thought you wanted to bring other women over.”

“I don’t want him over here. You’re my wife and I’ll have sex with you. Besides, empress, I gotta put a baby in you at some point. We have to make this official.”

She mimics my posture, her breasts bouncing up underneath her arms. “No. Not if you’re not going to let him come over.”

“Fine, then I guess we’ll both be celibate.”

Her nostrils flare as she sets her jaw, and pink lights up her olive cheeks. I almost lose my resolve. Fucking hell, she’s even more gorgeous when she’s angry. “Fine. Celibacy it is. I’m sure I won’t have any problems with it. Not like you.”

The corners of my eyes tighten, thinking about that fucking tub of petroleum jelly on my bedside table. Shifting my weight, I lunge at her and place my face in hers, that intoxicating floral scent hitting me in the groin as she inhales quickly. “You come find me when you’re ready for a good dicking down. I’ll fuck that bratty attitude right out of you.”

Glancing down, her erect nipples pierce through the thin fabric of her dress. No bra… Ugh. Before she can see what an effect her body has on me, I sidestep her curvy hip and head out to the pool, trying to adjust my firm erection under my waistband as subtly as possible.

A little vitamin D, some good tunes, and sparkles of the deep blue water is all I need. Stretching out on a lounger, I try to think of anything but a margarita. Fortunately, in about half an hour, a staff member brings me some juice and water along with a tray of fruit. But before I can finish either, the demon seductress emerges from the back door wearing nothing.

Oh, there’s a little thread of bikini surrounding her absolutely perfect body, but it’s so tiny, she may as well be naked. Even her dark areolas poke around the triangles of hot pink fabric pretending to hide her bosom, her pussy lips clearly visible under the tight bottoms as she waltzes by me in clear stiletto heels. Every sway of her hips causes her big ass to bounce, and my hands itch to spank each cheek until they turn red.

Crooking a forefinger, I stick the knuckle in my mouth and bite down to prevent myself from crying out in desperation. It doesn’t work. The moan just escapes around my hand.

Despite her dark sunglasses and wide-brimmed white hat, I see the edges of her eyes curl as she smiles temptingly at me, strolling right to the bottom of my chair. She slides off a heel and pretends to dip a toe in the water, casting her long, chocolate waves over a shoulder before turning her head to see if I’m watching.

I can’t look away.

Maybe that song, the one about marrying an ugly wife? Maybe it was right, and I just fucked up.

Big time.

The skin on my dick feels raw as it pumps full of blood at the sight of her. I can’t jerk off again, I just can’t. If she asked me to beg right now, I may give in.

“If you keep staring like that, your eyes may fall out, husband,” she says, her voice a whole octave lower than it normally is.

“You here for your brat treatment?” I ask, palming my cock back into place. There’s no hiding what she’s doing to me. Not in these shorts.

“I’m here to let you know what you’re missing, if you don’t let Wyatt visit.”

Scanning up from her painted toes to her smooth, toned legs over her huge ass and little waist, then glancing at her pristine face, my eyes rake over her without trying to conceal a damn thing. She shivers under my gaze but thrusts a hip out and places a hand on it, biting her bottom lip.

“You seem hot and bothered,” I say, jerking one corner of my mouth up.

“Wha-what? I-I’m not. You do.” She points at my crotch and laughs, but her cheeks flush red and not from the heat outside.

Standing, I walk slowly toward her and smirk. “Nah, I think you’re the one who knows she’s missing out. Let me help you cool off, sweet tits.” I push her into the pool with a light shove. The shriek that pierces the still summer air gives me the biggest smile I’ve had in a long time, and when she splashes around, gasping for air like she’s dramatically drowning in four feet of water, her hair drenched, that big hat floating down to the deep end, I laugh so hard, I almost snort, then turn around to saunter inside.

“You dick!” is all I hear before the back door closes.

By that evening, I’ve stroked myself three more times to the vision of her. Checking my palm, I scan it for any callouses, but none have formed—yet. Briefly, I consider what Cindy’s doing, or the triplets. But if Max found out, that’d be it. I’d lose my money and possibly my life if the empress told on me.

Plus, I don’t want this to be it for us. Me and my wife.

If we fuck other people now, it just seems like that’s not building something for our future. My dad wouldn’t like it. And my mom would be disappointed. Maxi was right, and I hate that.

Just as I turn off some porn playing on the TV across from the bed, the doorknob to my bedroom rattles and I grip the sheet to pull it around my naked waist, not knowing who’s breaking in. Before I can snatch the gun off my nightstand, my wife peeks her head through the open space and spots me, her brown eyes big with worry.

“Oh. You’re still up,” she says quietly.

“Yeah. What’s going on?” My heart stops beating for a moment at the sight of her. What am I in trouble for now?

She scuttles in and shuts and locks the door behind her. I only get a glimpse of her silky pink negligee before she sprints full speed, then leaps onto the king-sized bed and slides under the covers. Staring at her with my eyes wide, she pokes her head out from her cocoon, her dark hair covering the pillowcase. “Hi.”

“Arianna…what are you doing here?”

Smiling as sweetly as one would expect a harbinger of a hellhole to muster, she says, “I’m scared of sleeping alone. I don’t want to anymore. I have nightmares.”

She’safraid of being alone? Raising an eyebrow, I ask, “Are you being serious right now?”

With a flutter of her lashes, she looks down at our feet underneath the light blue duvet. I think it’s Ralph Lauren. When she brings those sunset eyes up to my face again, there’s a shaking in her countenance. A helplessness like she’s a little lost child trying to find her mother.

And suddenly, that place that we were in together when we kissed feels right at home in my own soul, like she’s a reflection of me. Just for a moment, I completely understand her.

“Yes,” she whispers.

There’s such a pull to comfort, to ease her concern, one that I recognize in myself, that I prop my arm behind her pillow and slide down into the bed with her. “Okay. You can stay.” Is it just as much for me as it is for her? Probably. And, if I’m honest, it has nothing to do with sex.

Then she wiggles, rocking her hips, the bed jarring from her little dance of victory.

My breathing halts as I realize…I’m in fucking trouble. I think this is the first woman able to make me fall to my knees, to manipulate me and, for once, I think I want her to. I think she could make me do whatever she wanted, and I’d be okay with it.

Reaching behind me, I turn off the lamp and lie on my back, gazing at the ceiling. Some weird warmth arises in my belly, like I want to take care of her, to give her what she needs. To soothe the angst inside of her because it would pacify my own. I want to love her.

And crush her skull in at the same time.

“What are your nightmares about?” My question stabs the silence like shattering glass.

“What?” she murmurs, her voice heavy with sleep.

“What are your nightmares about? Like spiders, or snakes, or getting chased? What?”

She rolls onto her side, tucking her pressed hands underneath a cheek and looking at me. “Um, bulls rushing to gore me.” And just when I think she’s done, she adds quietly, “And my mama and papa, Maxi.”

Nodding like she can see me, I stay silent, not exactly sure what to say. “Well, you’ll be safe in here. Definitely no bulls.” It’s the Day of the Raging Bull. She was probably just a tiny thing when it happened. I remember being so sad that my best friend had left me when I woke up the next day, not really able to understand the destruction that came to East Side. I just wanted Maxi back.

At some point, I hear her breathing even out, and then I can finally relax enough to fall asleep, calmed by the fact that I’m not alone for another night.

Until screaming rips my eyes open with terror. It’s still dark. Sitting up in a panic, I rub a hand over my face, trying to figure out what’s happening. That’s when I see her struggling against the sheets, still asleep next to me.

I try to rouse her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Arianna. Hey, empress. Wake up.”

It doesn’t work. She whimpers, crying, muttering unintelligible words through almost closed lips.

Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her onto my bare chest until she stirs, her dark hair tickling my nose. I’ve never smelled flowers like her, but that’s what she is. Some poisonous, delicate flower. Like a Venus flytrap. Her nails dig in at my neck, clinging to me before the moans cease and her perfect chin raises to gaze into my eyes, so scared that I press my lips to her forehead.

“It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe.”

Adjusting, she presses her full bosom onto my chest, the feel of her racing heartbeat reverberating through my bones. Her little pants on my skin change from rapid to steady, the movement of the tickling air against my pecs causing goosebumps to erupt all down my arms. Within another minute, she’s out again…while I hold her in my arms.

I’ve cuddled before, sure, but this feels weird. Like I shouldn’t be embracing my wife. We haven’t even fucked, yet. And my penis is really confused about what to do now. Like, do I just stick it inside her? Do I jerk off onto her? I’m not sure. But somewhere in between the exhaustion and confusion, I fall back to sleep with her.

My extremely hard erection wakes me the next morning. No, not the erection itself. But the ass brushing against it repeatedly. When I stir, I realize I’m spooning the empress as she gyrates all over my crotch. She must need it, too.

Reaching between us, I slot my dick between her legs, but before I can line up, she jumps and twists. “What are you doing?” Snatching the sheet up around her chest, she looks at me with wild morning eyes.

“You’re grinding on my dick, empress. Thought you needed a good morning fuck.”

“N-no! I told you, not until you agree that my boyfriend can visit.”

Is this bitch for real? My jaw drops. “We just spent the night together. I cuddled you, for fuck’s sake.”

Her jaw drops as she gasps, then she rapidly closes it, setting her luscious lips into a firm line. “You can have me…if Wyatt can come over.”

“You know what?” I shove the blankets off me, standing and moving to her side of the bed, my cock bobbing with every step. Stroking myself, I aim for her face as I jerk off.

“No! No! Stop it!”

“Open your mouth so it won’t make a mess on the sheets.”

Diving underneath the blankets, she kicks and squirms until I release my morning need all over her side, spraying myself wherever I can.

“Well, I guess your side will really smell like me now.”

Flipping down the top of the blanket, her hair spread like a Medusa in erratic strands, she narrows her eyes at me. “You’re disgusting.”

Shrugging a shoulder, I head into the bathroom for a shower.

It isn’t until I’m fully inside, soaping up, slightly relaxed from my nut that my heart starts to race. I’m alone. Hurrying, I finish with my routine, cutting it shorter than normal and getting dressed while sweat replaces the steam drops from the water.

Part of me thought marriage was about not being alone.

Last night was just what I needed. It was too good, having her with me and a huge relief. I think it helped her, too. If I want her to be near me, I gotta apologize or say something that will get her back in bed with me tonight.

One of the housekeepers is changing the bedding when I enter the bedroom.

“Where’s Mrs. Donovan?”

“I believe she’s in the other wing, sir.”

The other wing? No way. Why would she go there?

With a huge inhale, I walk toward the part of the house I haven’t been to in almost nine years. Each movement closer to the past, pain rips into my heart. I don’t want to see any of it.

I dart forward until I reach the first bedroom, eyes on the floor, the edge of the door just visible out of my periphery. My old room. Before I check it, I hear movement coming from the room next to it. Ashley’s. Oh no.

The door is ajar when I approach, and my heart leaps into my throat, making it difficult for me to swallow. Placing one foot in front of the other becomes nigh impossible, like I’m walking through knee deep sand.

Come on, Ace. You’re a fighter.My hands curl into fists.

When I round the corner, everything in my body stills. Arianna sits cross-legged behind a Barbie house, pulling out the dolls and looking at them carefully, muttering something to herself and placing everything back in different ways… She’s playing with dolls in Ashley’s room.

“What the fuck?”

She jumps as I startle her. “Oh! Hi.”

“What are you doing? Those are my sister’s things!”

“No, they’re not.”

Not wanting to enter fully, I stare her down from the doorframe. “Yes, they are.”

“No.” She holds up two of the blonde dolls and shakes them at me. “This one she stole from me once. And I let her borrow this one here.” Glancing around the interior, she mutters, “Some of these dresses were mine, too. But she did always have the best accessories.”

With a flash before my eyes, I’m nine years old again. A brunette girl plays with my little sister on the pink rug, both annoying the shit out of me with their sing-song voices. I came to tell them to stop stealing my G.I. Joes, but they argue that they are better than their Ken dolls. “That was you.”

She whips her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder as she peeks up at me. “What was me?”

“You were Ashley’s friend.”

Her brow crunches as she stares at me. “Y-yeah… We used to come over a lot. Or you and Ashley would come over to our place, remember? I had the Victorian dollhouse, but she had the best Barbie stuff.”

“I-I think I forgot.” Or I didn’t want the pain of remembrance.

“I think this was yours.” She holds up my G.I. Joe dressed in a tuxedo.

I feel more than make the action of nodding in reply. Arianna returns to straightening up the toys as I stand still in contemplation. I’d blocked everything out for so long.

My parents and my sister are dead. And so are my wife’s. I guess I’d been avoiding the memories, but she seems to be embracing them. All those memories held such a fear for me. Like if I think about them for too long, they cause an ache for something I barely remember.

If my wife can’t love me, I may as well make her happy. Maybe he can. They could go on with their thing and I can have some women on the side once the casino gets built up. Then I won’t have to fear Maxi finding out and cutting me off.

I should never have yelled at them for playing with their dolls.

“You want your boyfriend over here?”

Pausing in her motion to put a pink car back in a makeshift garage, she raises an eyebrow at me. “Yes. And then you can have whomever you want.”

What I don’t tell her is that I’m starting to think she’s who I want. “He can come over, even stay here, but Arianna? I don’t want him impregnating you. That’s my duty if you, um, would allow me to do that sometime.”

Her face lights up and the sight of it makes me simultaneously ecstatic and destroyed. She must really love him. But it does seem she’s excited about the prospect of having my child. “Okay! I’m a virgin anyway, so that won’t be a problem.”

I practically choke on my tongue. “I-I’m sorry, a wh-what? A what?”

When she stands, her little summer dress falls to barely cover her ass as she walks toward me. “A virgin. I’m a virgin.”

“How old are you? Aren’t you, like…twenty-four? And have a boyfriend?”

A devilish smile comes across her plush lips. “Yeah. But Maxi’s always been protective. And I was always at all-girls schools. Plus, I know my duty, too. You need an heir, and I’ll be happy to give you one if Wyatt can visit.”

“So he’s never… You’ve never…” My eyes get dry as I stare at her in disbelief.

“I mean, we’ve done stuff, but no. I’ve never had a penis in my vagina. Breathe, Asa.” She pats my chest with her delicate fingers.

A fucking virgin. Shit. I’ve never had sex with a virgin. Not that I know of.

Suddenly, a ton of pressure seems to fall on me. How does one fuck a virgin? But more importantly, what stuff has she done with that piece of shit?

“Fine. Just—just keep him away from me. You two can do, uh, stuff, and I’ll, um, you know. Visit when the time is right.”

I watch her perfect figure as she waltzes past me, but snag her arm before she can get away, pulling her into my body as she gasps. “How many kids do you want, empress?”

When she lifts her face to meet my eyes, it’s all I can do to not take her lips with mine. “I want a lot, Mr. Donovan.”

Damn. With that one sentence, my dick is raging hard again. But she tugs away with a twinkle in her eye and lets her hips shake as she moves down the stairs. The panic of being in this section of the house has dissipated, replaced by all-encompassing horniness.

Tucking my dick under the waistband of my shorts, I head down to the gym to work off this fucking need I now have and figure out the answer to the important question:

How to fuck my virgin wife.