Heath
Five months later…
“PLEASE JUST TALK TO HIM,” Isabel whines from the other side of the door. “I’ve learned my lesson, Mother.”
Delores’s voice can be heard yapping from the other end of the phone, but I can’t make out the words.
“I know how the Lincoln men are. Stubborn.” Isabel sighs heavily when her mom yaps some more. “I know I chose this path. You guys gave me everything, but I denied it to run off and marry him.”
I grin at the mention of myself.
Her mother bitches some more and then Isabel groans. “Surely you can convince Elliot to let me come home. You have to try, Mother. Father agrees with him now, but he can be persuaded too.”
She’s quiet as her mom babbles some more.
“I can’t just put on a brilliant smile and fake it until my brother and father soften,” Isabel whines. “I can’t. And you’re wrong, it is as bad as I say. Money isn’t everything. Just because he’s found some money somewhere doesn’t suddenly make him tolerable.”
Some.
Ha.
Isabel, the crybaby of the fucking century, sobs to her mother. “Please. I can barely function here. He’s not nice to me.” Then she screams out in frustration. “I know Heath was never nice to anyone, Mother. But I thought it would be different with me. I thought I could change him.”
Fucking liar.
She wanted to make Catrina jealous.
And I wanted something in return.
We both had our agendas and we must deal with the consequences.
Her mom must say something that sends Isabel into a panic because she turns to begging. “If they’re coming for dinner tonight, plead for me. Beg of my brother to allow me to come home. Please.”
She sniffles. “I love you too.” Then, she makes a kissing sound before hanging up.
I wait a moment before pushing through the bedroom door of our swanky London flat to find her sitting on the edge of the bed with her face in her palms. She looks terrible. All she does is cry, secretly smoke on the balcony as if I don’t know about it, and nearly starve herself. And all it does is make me angry. She has everything she could ever want. It’s not like I’m abusing her. Isn’t that what these motherfuckers want? Money? Isn’t that the answer to all their goddamned problems?
“It’s late,” she mutters before lifting her head and staring at me with pitiful hazel eyes that are red from crying. “Where were you?”
Nearly every other day she accuses me of cheating on her. The only cunt I put my cock into is hers. It’s getting to be annoying that it’s this she chooses to fight with me about every day.
“Her name was Lola. She tasted fucking divine,” I lie just to watch her lose her shit.
She stands from the bed and throws the cordless phone at me. It hits the floor with a crack and slides under a chair. Her skinny body launches at mine and she pummels her useless fists into my chest. I let her throw her tantrum for all of thirty seconds before I lay down the law.
Grabbing a handful of her hair, I draw her to my face. “I only fuck you, my wife.” Unfortunately.
Her nostrils flare, but the fight leaves her. I walk her backward to the nearest wall. She may not be my Catrina, but she is my wife. When her ass hits the wall, I rip at her gown and send it careening to the floor. She cries out when I push her panties down her thighs. I grab her hips and twist her away from me. Her fingers dig into the plaster walls as I unzip my slacks to pull out my aching cock.
Upon my first attempt, she’s too dry. My cock can’t go in, not without hurting her. But this wife of mine is easy to manipulate. She gets off on sweetness.
“Why aren’t you wet for me?” I demand, my mouth at her ear as I rub my dick along the crack of her ass.
“Because I hate you,” she mutters.
I kiss her ear and then the side of her neck. A small moan escapes her when I suck on the flesh. “I hate you too, but we both like to come.”
My hand wraps around to her front and I massage her clit. She whimpers and pushes her ass into me. With my other hand, I tease her slit that’s growing with wetness.
“When are we going to make a baby?” I coo, loving the way she shudders.
So. Fucking. Easy.
“I don’t know,” she breathes.
Slowly, I ease the tip of my dick inside her cunt. “Maybe if you weren’t so miserable all the time, your body would accept what I have to give you. I thought you liked gifts.”
She cries out when I slam into her hard. Her body thumps against the wall. Her bony hips will no doubt be bruised. I rub her pussy until she’s writhing and giving up the bitch act for now. I know the moment we come, it’ll be back to business as usual.
“Beg for me to come inside you,” I snarl, my free hand sliding into her hair to fist it. “Beg to be defiled like a whore.”
“Ah,” she hisses. “Please.”
When she unravels with a ragged orgasm, I grunt out my release. I wait until my cock stops throbbing to let go of her hair. My lips find her shoulder and I kiss her. It’s the only way to make her compliant when I want something. As my cock softens and slides out of her, she relaxes. I turn her to face me. My fingers, still wet from where I massaged her, dig into her dainty jaw as I lift her gaze to mine.
“Isabel, my fragile and lonely wife?”
She blinks at me as tears well in her eyes. “Yes?”
“I want you to throw out the birth control pills. I’m going to give you a baby.”
Her expression turns into one of horror. This isn’t her decision. It’s necessary. She’ll bear my child and that is the fucking end of it.
“What if I’m not ready?” she challenges.
I could fight her. Yell in her face and tell her how it’s going to be. But this little girl isn’t played that way. With her, it’s simple.
“Sweetheart,” I coo, my voice soft and caring, “I’m ready.” I kiss her mouth gently at first and then I devour her. Desperate to be loved and for any sort of attention, she throws her arms around my neck, kissing me back.
Isabel is no Catrina.
She’ll never compare.
But she’s the woman I have right now and I’ll be damned if I don’t use that to my advantage. I’m a man, after all. Grabbing her bony ass, I lift her and carry her over to our bed. I toss her onto it before quickly shedding the rest of my clothes. Her eyes are wide and unsure as I prowl over her. I capture her mouth again. My dick is already hard again, eager for this new step in my plan.
“Look how wonderful you are when you comply,” I praise as I pepper kisses all over her mouth. “So sweet and lovely. I wonder if our child will have your eyes or mine. Are you imagining the sounds of laughter as our children run through these halls? I would buy them all ponies and when they are older whatever they want. We will spoil them.”
She feeds on my lies as though they are her sustenance. “I want to have your baby,” she chokes out, surprising us both.
I’m gentle as I make love to her. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend it’s one of the tender moments I shared with Catrina. With Catrina on my mind, I whisper the words the girl so desperately needs to hear. “I love you.”
She comes.
And then I do too.
Tomorrow we’ll throw out the pills and I’ll fuck her until she’s carrying my child.
“Oh, Heath, can we go back to New York for a visit?” Isabel pleads from her chair by the window. “I miss my brother and his wife. My parents too. Please.”
I have too much work to do before I can go back.
Soon.
Just not yet.
“Perhaps at Christmas,” I lie as I stalk past her to my closet. I hang up my suit jacket and pull off my tie. Once I’ve kicked off my shoes, I unbutton the cuffs to my shirt and roll the sleeves up. When I emerge, Isabel still has a book open in her lap and is staring out the window.
I walk over to her and follow her stare. A little boy stands on the street corner with his mother. They’re homeless. His face is dirty and she’s begging for change. When his big brown eyes look our way, I nearly shudder.
That child doesn’t have a Mr. Crenshaw to save the day.
No, he’ll probably grow up to be some shitty criminal because his mother won’t go get a goddamned job.
“Do you think he’s hungry?” Isabel asks.
I know he is.
I don’t remember my days before Crenshaw, but when I first came to live with him, I’d have nightmares about a gnawing hunger in my gut.
“He’s not of your concern.” I grab her wrist and pull her to her feet. Today she wears overalls over a tank top and her blond hair is twisted into a messy bun. She’s a far cry from the debutante she once was. To be fair, she’s much prettier when she’s with me. “I like how you look lately,” I admit. “You’re eating more.”
Her cheeks burn red and she bites on her bottom lip. “I gave up smoking too.”
It’s been two weeks since I told her we were going to have a baby and she’s really gotten on board. Eating right. Exercising. Doing her part to help me around the house whenever I need something. Who knew being nice could yield such fruitful results?
Too bad being nice is eating me alive.
So often I have to bite my tongue and not compare her or taunt her.
I may be an asshole, but I’m not stupid.
And at the moment, I manipulate her to my advantage.
“Have you taken a test?” I ask.
She laughs. I haven’t heard the sound in ages. “It doesn’t work like that. These things take time. I’m not due for my period for a couple more weeks.”
“So we just fuck and fuck and fuck and hope for the best?”
Her head bobs up and down. “Yep.”
My hand lifts and I run my knuckle along her throat. Her eyes close and she leans into my touch. As I slowly undress her and then myself, I let my mind wander to work this afternoon. I spent the entire day with a big client. One I have been working on for months. He handed over the proverbial keys to his kingdom this morning, and I showed him exactly how rich I could make him. I’m flying high on success. It’s almost time.
“Bend over,” I murmur as I guide her over to the bench in the window. She places her palms on the seat and bares her ass at me. I slap her ass with my dick before pushing inside her heat. Always so wet and accommodating these days. “Touch yourself and make yourself come,” I demand. “Don’t make me do all the fucking work.” Luckily, my harsh words when we fuck turn her on. Her cunt clenches around me as she touches herself.
I push forward until we’re both kneeling on the bench. I smash her tits against the cold glass and drive into her relentlessly. My teeth nip at her shoulder as I stare out the window. The homeless woman holds the child to her breast, shielding him from our show, and glowers at me.
A good man would move away from the window.
A good man would finish fucking his wife and then send her down to give the poor duo some food.
A good man would scoop that boy up and give him a home, money, an education, and a future.
I’m a bad man.
I stare down at the dirty woman as I fuck Isabel so hard her head hits the glass with a loud thud. When Isabel cries out in pleasure, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull us back. She knows the drill. Her body falls forward and she rests on her elbows. I stand and keep her ass prone to me. A few more pounds into her and I grunt out my release. I fill my wife up with cum and hope this time does the trick.
And for the next fifteen minutes, I keep her just like this with her ass in the air.
One can never be too sure, and I don’t want a drop of me to escape from her until it’s done its fucking job.
“I need more money,” he says over the line, shame in his tone. His child cries out in the background. I can even hear his wife bitching at him. “Please. Just a small loan. The property taxes are due and I…”
Gambled away what he had.
Exhilaration burns through me. “How much?”
“Not much this time.”
Last time was fifty thousand. As was the ten times before that.
“I’ll wire you the money after you sign the loan agreement,” I tell him. Same as always. “Watch in the mail for it. I’ll have my attorney draw it up straight away.”
“Thank you, Heath. You don’t have to do this and yet…”
I smile. “Don’t think anything of it. You know why I do it.”
But he doesn’t really—he only thinks he knows.
“Thank you,” he says again, his voice happier in tone.
I hang up and lift my gaze to see Isabel standing in the doorway of my office. While I like to fuck, I’m growing bored of this baby making shit. I just want it to stick and then we can be on our way.
“Helen says everyone is doing well,” she chirps as she prances into the office.
Fuck Helen.
“Lovely,” I deadpan.
“I told her you’re not always a bitter scoundrel,” she says and flashes me a bright smile.
“Then you lied,” I growl as I grab her waist when she nears and pull her to me.
She’s all giggles as she straddles my lap. I work her panties to the side as she unfastens my pants. My cock gets pulled into her grip and then she’s easing herself down over my length.
Her mouth fuses to mine, but I can hardly keep my dick up. I’m bored of these games. If she doesn’t get pregnant soon, I’ll lose my fucking mind. This time, I check out mentally. My mind drifts to late night romps under the sheets with her.
My true love.
The one he stole.
Elliot fucking Lincoln doesn’t deserve what he has. Catrina always was and always will be mine. Soon, everything will fall into place. I can swoop in, rescue my beautiful princess, and we can ride off and have the life we always wanted.
“Ow,” Isabel whimpers. “You’re hurting me.”
I blink away my daze. I’m sucking hard on her little tit like I used to do with Catrina while gripping her ass painfully. Irritation blooms inside of me. No sense in pretending. Isabel will never be her. She can’t handle a rough fuck. She can’t handle anything.
Pulling away from her breast, I look up at her. I shove my middle finger past my wife’s lips and watch her eyes widen in shock. Once it’s good and wet, I pull it back out and bring it around to her back. When I push into her tight ass, she screeches and begins to cry. The way her pussy clenches around my cock has me throwing my head back and groaning with my release. She tries to wriggle away, but the moment my seed spurts inside her, she freezes.
She knows the drill.
Stay fucking still and give me a goddamned baby.
She sobs and her fingers gingerly touch my chest as if she’s unsure what to do. I grit my teeth, bothered by the fact I almost scared away my frightened little kitten, and look up at her.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Lies. I slide my finger out of her ass. My cum leaks out of her, soaking my slacks. “I got carried away. For one moment, it felt like it did when I was with her.” Not a lie. But it’s a morsel that my desperate wife needs.
Her wet lashes blink several times in confusion. “I can give you more. I can be like her,” she breathes. “I can be better.”
Never.
Not even close.
Not at all.
“Perhaps it means I’m finally letting go,” I utter. I’ll never let her go.
“Oh, Heath,” she breathes and kisses me deeply. “I swear I can be better. It just caught me off guard. We can try those things if you really want to. I want to make you happy.”
“I’m feeling happier…” I say, because it’s true. Because everything I ever wanted is nearly within my grasp. “And when you get pregnant one day, I’ll be fucking thrilled.”
She hugs me tight and buries her face against my neck. “It will happen. I promise.”
I pat her bony ass because affection is what makes her compliant.
It better happen because it’s all part of the plan.