“WHERE THE HELL were you?”
The words echoed through my bedroom suite, bouncing off the walls and windows as I blinked my eyes. The flood of sunlight assaulted my sight, burning my vision, where moments earlier I’d seen only peaceful dreams. I’d been sound asleep, alone in my bed. With my drapes suddenly opened, I struggled with reality. What was happening?
Before I could acclimate, the soft blankets cocooning my world moved, and cool air struck my warm, suddenly exposed skin. Thankfully, I still had the protection of my nightgown and panties, as I squinted against the light and focused on the faces before me.
“What the hell?”
As the haze faded, both my husband and his right-hand man came into view. Stewart was beside my bed, in the wheelchair, and Travis was standing near the open drapes. I had no doubt that Travis had been the one to wheel Stewart from his downstairs room to my suite.
Stewart continued his glare. “Where the hell were you last night?”
Reaching for the blankets, I covered myself and scowled toward Travis. “Get the hell out of my room.”
It took every ounce of my energy not to jump from my bed and slap the smug expression off his arrogant face. Instead, I scowled toward Stewart with my lips pursed in silent disobedience. Finally, he turned toward Travis. “Leave us. I’ll call for you when I’m ready to be taken back to my room, or…” He looked at me. “…Mrs. Harrington can tend to her husband. After all, isn’t that what good wives do?” Stewart shrugged. “But then again, good wives aren’t out until all hours of the night.” He nodded. “Go now.”
“Yes, sir,” Travis replied, all the while his eyes fixed on me.
Fighting the sickening feeling I always had in Travis’ presence, I taunted, “Yes, Travis, run along. I’m sure there’s someone else who you can make miserable for a few minutes.”
“Always a pleasure, Mrs. Harrington.”
I stared his direction as he walked the length of my suite taking his time before he finally closed the door and left us alone. Turning toward Stewart, I asked, “What the fuck? You let him come in here while I’m sleeping?”
Despite his disease-ridden body, his eyes were quick, dark, and responsive. “I asked you, my wife, a fucking question—twice. Where were you last night?”
Throwing back the covers, I eased myself from the bed, and walked toward the bathroom. “With Val; I told you I was going to go out with her.”
“At the damn hospital?” His voice came muffled from the suite, echoing as it traveled into the tile-covered bathroom. “You went out with your sister at Memorial Hospital all night?”
After doing my business, I washed my hands, and splashed water on my face. While making Stewart wait, I tied my long hair back into a low ponytail, grabbed my robe, and casually re-entered the bedroom. “Yes,” I said, as I tied the cord around my waist. “We didn’t go out. She had rounds. As you may have inferred from our conversation, I was pissed, and I didn’t want to be here.”
“Victoria, you were gone until one in the damn morning. You’re Mrs. Stewart—”
“I goddamned know my fucking name! I was at the hospital with my sister. We were discussing a new project for the Harrington Society, a string of cancer clinics here in the US. Tell me, Mr. Harrington, what part of that was inappropriate for your wife?”
“The one-in-the-morning part.”
“Check the damn hospital records: about ten o’clock there was some big emergency, a pile-up on I 95 or something. They needed Val in the ER. I waited for her in the doctors’ lounge. Honestly, I fell asleep.” My gray eyes narrowed. “I’d had a rather emotional day.”
Without a smidge of remorse, his clouded blue gaze remained fixed.
Thankfully, there had been a big car accident. I’d heard about it on the radio on my way home. A quick call to Val’s cell phone and my story was solidified.
I continued, “She woke me when she returned to the lounge and I came home. It’s a pretty fucking torrid story. I mean, seriously, I’d hate for your wife to be doing anything without you present, oh, like getting fucked.”
His unwavering gaze matched his steady tone. “What did you just say to Travis?”
My mind spun. “I don’t remember. I told him to get the fuck out of my room.”
“No. You told him to run along. Like some goddamned child.”
My breath quickened as I looked around my room. Shit! This wasn’t all about the late hour. This was about my visit to Craven and Knowles. “Travis has no right; you have no right, to allow him in my room.”
“This isn’t your room. Your room is in my room—our room. It always has been. I don’t like you sleeping in here and it’s going to stop.”
I blinked slowly and took a deep breath. “Well, I may have promised to sleep in your bedroom, but you made me promises too.”
Stewart’s blue eyes paled, and his ashen face fell toward his chest. “Take me back to our room. I’m not feeling well and we’ll talk about it there.”
A sense of duty nudged at my conscience as I looked at the remnants of the man I’d married. No longer was he the larger-than-life mogul. The cancer had taken his strength and his pride.
“When was the last time you had your pain medicine?” I asked with less than a tinge of concern and more of a desire to have him medicated.
“Last night, after I’d finally given up on you coming home.”
“It’s time for more, don’t you think?”
He grimaced as he lifted his eyes. “No. I want to talk about this.”
I turned his chair toward me and sat on the edge of the bed. “Then talk. I’m not having this conversation in front of Travis or any of your harem of nurses. You want to talk, let’s talk.”
“I was there. Tori, I’ve never lied to you.”
“Virtual presence isn’t the same as being there.” I fought the absurdity of our conversation.
“I-I can’t physically be there anymore. You know that. There are so few enjoyable things left in my life. There’s such a short time… can you blame me for wanting pleasure where I can get it? I’m still a man with needs. I want that.” He lifted his hand toward me. “This.”
If we’d been talking about almost anything besides the topic at hand, I could have felt a pang of sympathy. But we weren’t and I didn’t. “Yes, I can blame you. You’re the only one I can blame.”
“That’s not true. I heard you went to Parker’s office.” Of course he did. “You looked at the contract. Tell me whose signature was on it?”
“Yours and—”
“And yours,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You agreed to this before we were married. Like I said, nowhere in that document does it say I must be physically present. It states that you’ll comply. You could still hear my voice. I could still see you.”
I stood abruptly, securing the robe around my waist and fought the Dark Lullaby threatening to replay in the recesses of my mind. “I fucking complied!”
His cold, clammy hand reached out to mine. “Tori, you were perfect, as usual. Give me a private show right now. Let me see my sexy wife in real life. I wanted that last night too. You know how much I enjoy having some of you after I watch. By not coming home, you denied me that pleasure.”
My heart sunk. “Stewart, I have to meet Maura today…” I looked toward the clock on the bedside stand. It was almost eleven o’clock. Shit! I’d slept late. “…in about an hour.”
His clouded eyes narrowed. “I’ve received many requests from our friends. As you know, we haven’t been able to accommodate them, but now we can. Is that what you’d prefer? Say the word, Mrs. Harrington: a private show for your husband or another visit to the warehouse?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled. The ghostly scent of Parker’s cologne whiffed unmistakably through my suite. I opened my eyes abruptly. He wasn’t with us. We were still alone; it was only my imagination. I fought the growing nausea as I assured myself I wasn’t losing it. “Please…”
A sadistic smirk emerged from his graying complexion. “All of this is of your own free will, my Tori, completely consensual. Now, tell me, which do you prefer, here or the warehouse? Perhaps both? The day is young.”
“Stewart, what about Maura?”
He nodded toward my bedside stand. “Your phone is flashing. Maybe she’s left you a message. Maybe she’s unable to attend. If not, you can call and cancel or postpone.”
Debating my options, I walked toward my phone. Each step on the plush carpet seemed as though I were stepping through quicksand: the next step more difficult than the one before. Picking up my phone, I read the screen. There were three text messages. It didn’t take long to see that none of them were from Maura. I closed the app. I knew who at least one was from, and I couldn’t stomach Brody’s kind words with Stewart’s darkening blue gaze watching my every move. I kept my back toward my husband as I said, “The messages are from Val. She was worried about my driving home so late.”
I turned to his raised brows.
“What’s your decision, Mrs. Harrington?”
Exhaling, I turned back away and searched my contacts. Finding Maura Craven’s name, I hit CALL.
Catching her voicemail, I made my tone as light as possible. “Maura, I’m sorry to do this to you on such short notice. Stewart’s having a difficult morning. I don’t think I should leave him today. Please, dear, give me a call and we’ll reschedule.”
I disconnected the call and turned back toward my husband. My chest became heavy as I saw his flaccid penis. He’d obviously lowered the edge of his sweat pants and exposed himself while I spoke.
Not hiding my cruel tone, I asked. “Did you beat off while you watched yesterday?” I knew the answer. He couldn’t get off with a Hoover vacuum. The disease and medicine had taken away more than his ability to stand.
“Come here.”
Resigned, I moved forward. My new concern was getting to the bathroom in search of lubricant. Without it, there was no way that cock would get inside of me. Momentarily I remembered my arousal from the night before. If only I could relish the idea of Brody’s come being there with Stewart’s dick. Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to enjoy the irony. Seductively, I leaned down and kissed his lips. Summoning my most appeasing voice, I said, “Let me go get ready for you. I’ll be right back.”
He reached for my hand and placed it on his dick. “No. You can get ready right here.” His hand tugged at the cord around my waist, opening my robe and exposing my nightgown. “Mrs. Harrington, you are overdressed for this show. I believe you know my rules.”
Allowing the robe to fall from my shoulders, I pulled the nightgown from my head.
“Panties. Tsk tsk. Those were never needed when you slept where you’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“I can’t sleep with the nurses checking on you all night long. You know that.”
“Panties. Off.”
The lace fell to my ankles.
“Now, I want to feel those marvelous lips. The ones I watched suck our friend’s come yesterday afternoon. Let me feel that beautiful mouth on my cock.”
I fell to my knees as the overwhelming scent of sickness infiltrated my senses. Fighting back the bile that threatened my throat, I reached for his limp cock. It flapped in my grasp. As I tried to direct it toward my lips, revolt spurred in my empty stomach.
“That’s my girl. So good at following directions.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. It was a phrase he used in the warehouse: his idea of praise. In reality, each time he said it, I felt more like a well-trained dog.
Up and down my head bobbed, my lips chapping as time passed with no result.
Unabashed, Stewart reached for my hair and pulled my eyes upward. “You’re losing your touch, darling. I think you might need more practice.”
I reached for his sagging balls in desperation.
“Oh, yes, I feel it.”
I was glad he did. I didn’t. Maybe I could convince him of an ejaculation he didn’t really have. I quickened my pace, willing saliva where only dust remained. Dramatically, I changed my pace, gagging with the sound of forced swallowing.
“That’s it!” he exclaimed as his head wobbled backward and he exhaled an ethereal breath. Pushing me away, he demanded, “Now show me that sexy pussy. It used to be so tight, so wet.”
I leaned back on my ass, spreading my legs and fingering my lips.
“You used to be tight.” His eyes gleamed. “I know what’s still tight. We can have some fun with that.”
My heart raced as I leaned farther back, exposing myself completely.
“Move my chair to the edge of the bed, and lean over that mattress. I want to fill that tight hole.”
My feet moved, but just like at the warehouse, my mind went away. When his fingers went inside of me, a hiss left his lips. “What’s wrong with you? Where’s my dripping-wet little whore?”
I wonder? Maybe you don’t turn me on at all?!
When I didn’t respond, he continued, “Go get some lubricant. Damn, you’re dryer than the fucking Sahara.”
No shit, asshole. I would’ve done that earlier if you weren’t such a dick! Of course, I didn’t say that. However, the idea of saying it brought a private smile to my thoughts.
Once he situated me on the bed, he spread the lube, first fingering my slit and then thrusting into the destination he’d sought. “Oh, yes, darling… that’s what I like. No wonder so many of our friends enjoy pushing their dicks inside your ass. You’ve still got it there.”
He thrust his finger in and out. As I was getting used to that, he told me to find him the glass plug. Though it was much thicker and longer than his fingers, the smooth surface combined with the lubricant gave little resistance.
I obeyed, moving appropriately and making the sounds he required. However, the entire time with my eyes closed, I longed for the blindfold of the warehouse, and without the headphones, I had to imagine the Dark Lullaby melody in my head.
Thankfully, his energy was quickly spent. Slapping my ass, he declared, “We’re done with this. Wheel me into the bathroom. You can continue the show in there: a little shower dancing. I can watch as you suds up that pussy.”
Like the good wife, I complied, loathing bubbling beneath the surface and a serene smile on my face. After all that he’d done, having him watch as I showered was truly nothing. As the bathroom filled with humid air, I took my time and embraced the warm, cleansing spray. At least I didn’t have the scent of his come to wash away, only the stench of his impending death.
When I opened the glass door, I found Stewart with his eyes closed, chin on his chest, and slumped in his wheelchair. Though his brow glistened with perspiration, I held out hope as I touched his wrist and prayed.
Fuck! He still had a pulse.