THE FAMILIAR ANXIETY FROM BEING home begins to infect my veins. There’s a reason I travel so much and stay away for months at a time. My father and brother are intolerable.
“It will have to be us against them.”
Her words find a way into my heart and give me strength. The two of us may be bound by a contractual agreement and a certificate of marriage, but the idea of having someone to combat them alongside me is refreshing. I draw concentration from it.
In the past, I would have unleashed my anger at the two of them in the cellars. The cellar fighting ring I created is a place where young men could take their problems out on another person with as many problems as they had. We had few rules and lived to beat the stew out of the other. I was known as The Beast by the other men. It’s been way too long, and my fists, after having beaten Edith’s lover’s fucking skull in, itch to smash the flesh of another. A memory assaults me and I’m nearly crippled by it.
“You nearly killed him,” Winston snaps, startling me from my daze. I stare up at him in confusion.
“Who?”
“Fucking hell, don’t play the part of a fool. Ten minutes ago, you were bashing that poor fellow’s head into the dirt. He wasn’t an equal opponent for you, Alexander. Why did you go so rough on him?”
Guilt trickles its way through my veins. Darby was his name. The kid home for holiday from university in London. He’d come out tonight to fight and have a good time. Not to get his nose crushed and lose teeth.
“I, uh, I lost my cool,” I grunt.
Winston glares at me. “It’s because of what he said isn’t it?”
I spit into the dirt and run a hand through my soaked with sweat hair. “No.”
“You lie poorly. It has everything to do with what he said.”
A heavy sigh rushes from me as I stare up at the dark night sky littered with twinkling stars. He’s right. Darby set me off and I saw bloody fucking red.
“Everyone in town knows your father hates you.”
He had meant to rile me up. Truth is, everyone in town does know my father treats me as his less favorite of his two sons. The wild card. The son with no care to mold himself after the stoic man. It has always been a tender subject in my family. Darby had no right to rub salt in the wound.
But he didn’t deserve to get killed for it. Had Winston not yanked my arse off of him, I would have bashed his face in until he died. End of fucking story.
And then what would have happened?
Father truly would have had his reasons for hating me then. He and Alcott could have a fucking hell of a time discussing all the ways I never measured up.
“Why don’t you get away for a while? Don’t you have that friend over in London? Perhaps you could spend some time with him. I understand your troubles,” Winston tells me with a shake of his head. “My father is a terror to deal with as well. And had I not gotten Suzette pregnant, I would have already left this small town and headed for the city. I care about you, Alexander. You’re losing your wits about you as of late. Please tell me you will leave before you do something regrettable.”
I shake off the memory as we approach my section of the estate. The next morning after bashing Darby’s face in, I left and chose to travel rather than fester and submit myself to the mental abuses from the terrible twosome that are my brother and father.
“In here,” I say gruffly as I open the double doors that lead to the wing that solely belongs to me. I have a grand living area with high ceilings and a stocked bar. Several rooms and washrooms line the hallways. And my favorite part of it all is the study. Of course, it remains locked and nothing of business goes on in there. But it contains everything that makes me happy.
Weights.
Gloves.
A bag for hitting.
“This is all yours?” Edith questions. “It’s stunning.”
“Ours,” I remind her as I usher her into the master bedroom.
“Right,” she says breathily.
The comforts of my room envelop me. It’s been awhile and I’ve missed this damn place. Especially my bed.
After shrugging out of my waistcoat, I toss it onto the folded blanket on the end of the bed and then unbutton my dress shirt. When Edith sees me undressing, her eyes widen.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I let my shirt fall to the floor and smirk at her. “We have a bit of time before supper. I thought you could pleasure me until then.”
The look on her face is downright comical as she goes from pleasant to fucking insane. “Did you not hear a damn thing I said on the train?” she snarls. “Behind these doors, nothing happens. Got it, mister?”
I chuckle darkly at her. “If I wanted to force the issue, I would. Luckily for you, I’m not fucking interested.”
Now, her brown eyes moisten, and she looks away from me. “You’re an arse.”
“An arse who, despite your words, you wish lavished you with praise. I’m sorry, Edith, but if I wanted to fuck you, it would be out of your control. You’re lucky to have someone like me to have chosen you. Lest you forget that, just six months ago, you were wreaking havoc on the lives of all of those around you? I chose you because of your lack of morals. Not your beauty. Not your body. Not your wits or your fucking education. I chose you because you’re as ruthless as I am.”
Her head whips over to me, and she loses her damn mind. After rushing toward me with both fists balled, she attempts to beat me with them as if they could actually exact damage on my muscled frame. Easily, I seize her wrists and twist them behind her. A yelp bursts from her as she meets my eyes with a glare that could obliterate anything in their path.
“I’ll be worth something to someone. You may think I’m scum, but I’m not. Someone will love me one day.” Her words carry a vulnerable edge as tears well in her eyes.
I should comfort her and apologize for having said words I didn’t really mean. But my stubborn arse won’t let me. No, I only add fuel to the fire.
“It won’t matter. You belong to me, and therefore, I won’t allow anyone to love you. I’ll kill anyone who tries.”
Her mouth pops open in shock, and I feel the urge to kiss those lips.
“Does that mean you plan on loving me?” she questions, hope lacing her words.
I drop my mouth to hers but hesitate before our lips touch. Her breaths come out hard and fast. She’s so close I can almost taste her.
“I’ll never love you. I don’t have that ability. But, nevertheless, you belong to me, so I won’t be letting some other fool have you, either.”
She struggles to escape my grasp, but I grip her tight enough to bruise her wrists. We both gasp when the door to my master bedroom flies open and Alcott bursts in as if the chump were actually going to bust us out. Not wasting a second, I smash my lips to hers and release her wrists. My wife knows the rules of the game, because her hands slide up my bare chest and around my neck. Even though our kiss is for show, there is truth to it.
Gripping her curvy arse, I pull her to me. I let her feel the reaction our kiss has on me. The needy moan that leaves her only serves to make me grow even harder. If I have to fuck her in front of the idiot, I will.
I groan at the thought of being inside this infuriating woman. She is not even close to the prettiest woman I’ve encountered, yet she allures me more than any other has. She is not sweet or doting or even fucking friendly. She’s borderline crazy.
Yet.
Yet I desire to sink my cock into her.
I know she’s a good lover, because for six months, I had to listen to her moans. Moans other men had drawn from her. Moans that had me coming as I fisted my cock on the other side of the wall.
Then the door slams shut and I grin against her lips. We’ve just won this round against Alcott, and I want to celebrate with my wife. But just as I begin leading her to the bed, she breaks away from our kiss. I’m outraged when she slaps me across the face.
“You’re a monster,” she spits out at me.
I growl in response and toss her onto the bed. “A monster you married.”
My hands find the bottom of her frock, and I push it up her thighs. God, her milky white skin needs to be marked. By me.
“Don’t touch me.”
Ignoring her words, I dig my fingers into her thighs and haul her toward me, careful not to touch her where that bastard bruised her. She’s angry, but there’s no fear in her eyes. The woman is a fucking fighter—I’ll give her that.
“The moment I touch you, you’ll melt in my hands, dear wife,” I tell her smugly as I urge her knees apart.
She doesn’t resist and, instead, meets my stare. “You’ll never please me like that of my past lovers,” she taunts. “Victor had a way with his fingers and—”
I see fucking red again at the mention of his name.
Leaning over her, I smash my hand over her mouth to shut her up, and my other hand slides between her legs. I’ll be the best lover she’s ever had. Those men have nothing on me. Fucking nothing.
“Did he touch you like this?” I growl as I stare into her furious eyes. When my hand rubs over her knickers, she whimpers. “That arse had woman hands. Was he soft and gentle when he touched you? Or,” I murmur as I slip my hand under the fabric, “was he rough? Did his fingers feel firm and leathery like mine?”
Her eyes flutter closed, and I watch with smugness as she shamelessly bucks against the way I touch her. When my middle finger pushes into her wet opening, a moan begs to be released from her mouth, which I still have covered with my hand. I want to hear it. Letting my hand slide away, I replace it with my mouth as I fuck her with my finger.
She’s drenched and completely aroused at my touch despite her attitude. Her body clenches around my finger, and my cock aches to replace it—to feel the way she grips it.
“Alexander.” My name on her tongue is a prayer.
The possessive feeling of ownership I have over her fills my soul. I can’t bear the idea of another man even looking at her, much less touching her. She’s my wife.
“No more lovers,” I murmur as I own her cunt with my fingers. “You’ll only come by my touch until the day you die.”
“Same goes for you, mister. I’m far too jealous to share,” she tells me firmly.
Her words cause me to pause. I cannot make promises I’m not certain I can keep. It reminds me of the one woman that thought she had been able to hold on to me.
“When are you going to make an honest woman out of me?” Nicolette asks as she tugs her dress back down over her arse.
I shove my cock back into my pants and shake my head at her. “It isn’t like that for us.”
Tears well in her eyes but I don’t feel sympathy for her. In the very beginning, I told her I had no interest to do things the proper way. I wanted a good time. She was that good time. But once I was done, we would move along. She was a friend with sexual advantages but nothing more.
“It can be,” she urges.
I snatch up my waistcoat and fold it over my arm as I retreat back through her bedroom window. “It won’t be, dear. If you’re still unmarried when I come back, shall I call upon you again?”
Turns out, I could call upon Nicolette whenever I had wanted. And after that initial conversation, she seemed at ease with our simple relationship based purely on sex and nothing more. I hadn’t cared at all about Nicolette the way I do about Edith.
Edith is different.
“I’m going to fuck you, wife. You’re going to wear the afterglow of our union to dinner.” Changing the subject has always worked well in my past. I don’t want to promise Edith anything and I certainly don’t want to dwell on the reasons as to why I believe she’s different than all of the other women.
She whimpers when I curl my finger and hit her in a spot only my finger can find. “God!” she screeches and comes hard, her entire body shuddering wildly.
“I’m going to fuck you now. Understand?” I question as I lift up to observe her. Her cheeks have reddened from her orgasm, and a pleased smile plays at her lips.
“Understood. But I meant what I said.” She frowns. “I can’t share you, Alexander. I’ll go insane if you take on another lover after me. I’ve lost my head for far less before, and I’m warning you—it won’t be pretty.”
I contemplate her words. Can I handle it when she becomes unhinged the moment she finds out I’ve slept with another woman? It is inevitable that it will happen. But my cock aches and I know I’ll convince myself of anything just to get inside her.
Women have always been my demise. This one included.
“Only you, Edith,” I lie. “It will only be you from here on out.”
The smile on her face is breathtaking, and for a moment, I wonder if I can hold true to my word. It will be easier on the estate because, unlike London, there aren’t women ripe for the fucking milling about. Maybe I can do this.
“Make love to me,” she murmurs in way that helps finalize my decision.
With a nod, I pull away from her and stand beside the bed. As I work to get my trousers and shoes off, she begins sliding her knickers down her thighs. The moment I get a glimpse of the dark hair between her legs, I can’t contain myself.
“On your hands and knees,” I command, my booming voice echoing off the walls.
I should let her remove her dress, but I can’t wait any longer. So, the moment she assumes the position, I shove the frock up her back and enter her with force. Her scream is laced with part pleasure and part surprise. Then she gasps when I begin thrusting in and out of her, my fingers digging into her hips to guide her to my pace.
“I want to kiss you,” she murmurs.
“Later. We’re going to come together first,” I grunt.
After slipping a hand around her, I find her swollen clitoris and start working it as we fuck. It doesn’t take long until she’s screaming my name as if I’m a fucking god. I get lost in the amazing way she grips my cock and am soon coming deep inside her.
I’ve never come inside a woman. Ever.
So why the fuck did I just do it?
A possessive thought wickedly swirls in my head. Because she’s my wife. If she becomes pregnant, then it will only further prove the validity of our marriage. In fact, every time I fuck her, I shall come inside her. I want her belly swollen with my child in less than a year’s time.
She collapses onto the bed, and I watch with pleasure as my come drips from her. If I didn’t have other things to do at the moment, I would push my fingers back into her and hold all of it inside her so that she’ll indeed get pregnant.
“Will you come lie down with me? Hold me?” Her face is hopeful, and I hate that I must crush her in this instant.
I lean forward and hastily kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry, dear. I have business to attend to.”
Big, fat tears glisten in her eyes before they roll down her cheeks. “What sort of business?”
Shaking my head, I slip my trousers on and then pad toward the door. “Not yours.” I don’t mean to come off as harsh—simply matter of fact. I’ve spent far too long hiding parts of myself from everyone. Just because she’s my wife, I’m not keen on delivering everything about me on a silver platter. I’ll keep her in the dark as I do everyone else.
I’m a selfish man.
I ignore her sobs as I stalk toward my study.