Ten
Our wedding night would be one I would remember for the rest of my life. We had a deep, scented bath together, with rose petals floating on top of the water. I had sat in between Nixon’s strong corded thighs, laying back against his broad chest whilst we talked about funny things which had happened at the wedding. We also started to discuss when to start moving my things over to his place. After we were dressed in white fluffy hotel robes, we shared a meal in our suite, which we didn’t finish. I had been in the process of licking my spoon when Nixon whispered in a throaty voice, “Let’s see what else you can do with that tongue.”
We made love in the large four-poster bed several times, it was deep intense and thoroughly loving. Much too tender to call it sex. It was special, our two bodies joined in the closest way you could ever be with another person.
The morning after we sat and ate breakfast together in our suite and opened our gifts. People had been really generous. Charles had bought us a pair of Royal Doulton crystal champagne flutes that were engraved with our initials, NLM and JRM, and a bottle of Mo?t it wasn’t worth the risk.
I had started going through old accountancy books, testing myself as I was toying with the idea of going to college in September to study management accountancy.
The front door went and Boyd and Mason appeared in the doorway to the sitting room. The youngest brother rolled his eyes as he saw me, but Mason smiled. It wasn’t Cheshire cat by anyone’s standards but it was warm.
“That stuff you’ve been cooking smells like shit sis,” Boyd said with his own special brand of mean greeting.
“Yes, I made it for you Boyd,” I replied, my best attempt to be sarcastic.
“Told you she was trying to poison us bro,” Boyd said, choking out a laugh.
“Stop being a twat for the sake of it, Boyd,” Mason scolded.
Boyd grunted before throwing himself onto the sofa which sat facing their ridiculously large flatscreen TV on the wall next to the chair I was sitting on. Mason threw himself into the opposite chair to mine and just sat there looking at me across the coffee table. It sat in the centre of us and was where Boyd now had his muddy booted feet. As my eyes roamed over him in secret, I saw a man who would probably die alone. I couldn’t imagine any woman wanting to take that on.
Pushing off the uncharacteristic nasty thought, I watched as Boyd turned the TV on and grabbed one of the gaming controllers before leaning back. It was like I wasn’t even there. I placed my book on the edge of the table, careful not to interrupt the boxed PS4 games which were scattered there. I then slipped the feet I’d had tucked under me onto the floor in preparation to leave.
“Sign me in,” Mason said in a firm tone and Boyd leaned forward and threw him the other controller. A loud chime came from the TV as the gaming screen appeared and they both signed in.
I felt uncomfortable, the silence grating across my already frayed nerves. I didn’t like being in the house when Nixon wasn’t there, especially with his brothers.
I pushed to my feet and was about to excuse myself, but Boyd shifted one leg and placed it against the armrest of the seat I had been sitting on, effectively trapping my exit.
“Don’t leave on our account sunflower,” he said without turning his head, his focus remaining on the screen where a game was loading.
Mason’s eyes darted back and forth between us but he remained silent. He was mildly amused; I could see it in his eyes and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“I was going to leave you to it, you don’t really want me in here,” I replied in a soft, mouselike voice. Drat, why couldn’t I have generated more volume? My back was as straight as a flagpole and I attempted to swallow some of my nervousness.
“Come on, sit down. Otherwise, we’ll think you don’t like us.”
“That’s not the case at all,” I said with less confidence. My voice was so thin it could crack at any point. My eyes flicked toward the clock on the wall. There was another hour until Nixon came home. Why hadn’t I just stayed in our room and read? Because I was starting to feel trapped that’s why.
I lowered myself into the chair and placed my hands in my lap.
“That’s better, you sit there and watch us play like a good girl. Look at that bro, demure as fuck. Nix is one lucky bastard,” Boyd sneered.
“Stop being a little prick and pick your fucking player, dipshit,” Mason said on an exhale, obviously frustrated by his brother.
Boyd had transferred his foot back onto the table and the two lads started to play a shooting game that I pretended to watch.
“So, how you enjoying your time with us. Quite a lot from the sounds of it?” Boyd drawled as he leaned this way and that whilst thumbing his controller. I so didn’t know what he meant. Had Nixon told them I was happy there? It had only been a few weeks and I was still finding my feet.
My thoughts were smashed away as Boyd yelled, “You absolute fucker, back-of-the-head shots don’t count.”
“Whatever loser, you play this game like a bitch,” Mason returned with a curl to his lips, his gaze now focused solely on the screen.
I cleared my throat so much it sounded like I was choking, “It’s fine and yes, I’m happy here. I’m with Nixon.”
Boyd sniffed and shot me a raised eyebrow, “Yeah, that won’t last.” He sounded so confident. It appeared Amy and Boyd were both still singing from the same hymn sheet. On my last trip to visit my family, she asked if I was ready to throw in the towel and come home yet.
“Why do you think it won’t last?” The question was out before I could stop it.
“Get down and stay down fucker!” Boyd yelled over at Mason who then flipped him the middle finger and shoved backwards into his seat. He wore a dark look; he obviously didn’t like being beaten. Whist another level appeared to be loading, Boyd turned to look at me, his eyes assessing my face before travelling down my stiff little body. “Because I know my brother. He’ll get bored of you once the novelty wears off, irrespective of your rings, and he’ll dump you. He’s been with loads of girls and they don’t get to stick around for long before he replaces them with someone new and shiny. You had that discussion yet?”
He was being cruel on purpose and I felt a swell of jealousy at his words. An emotion I had no right feeling, considering they all happened before Nixon and I got together.
“We’ve discussed past partners actually,” I replied moodily.
Boyd snatched a hand across his face, “Oh really? I can’t imagine many boys have had the chance to bang you when you’ve been locked away in your house for fucking years?”
“Boyd,” Mason warned in a soft voice as the next game started.
“What? It’s a fair question. No wonder you’re so fucking pale.”
“I was never locked away. I don’t go out into the sun often, I burn easily,” I informed him with total honesty and this made him grin. Why I was even bothering was beyond me.
“I’ll just bet you do.” I didn’t have a clue what he was getting at. His mind and comments were much too lewd for me to comprehend.
“You fucker!” Mason suddenly boomed which made me jump. The movement forced both boys to glance over at me and I averted my eyes, again pretending to watch their match.
“You’re a skittish little thing,” Boyd drawled before throwing the controller onto the table, clearly now bored of getting beaten by his brother at their game.
“And that’s twenty quid you owe me,” Mason shot out with a victory smile as he placed his controller onto the table and stretched his massive arms above his head.
“I think I’m going to go up to my room now,” I informed them with a quiver to my voice. Come on Jenna, get a backbone. These boys can’t hurt you. Nixon wouldn’t allow it .
Both boys were now watching me with varying expressions. Mason appeared quite vacant but a darkness had fallen over Boyd’s features and he was no longer in wind-up mode.
“Nixon’s room you mean,” he burst out with an angry thread to his voice.
“Yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking you belong here with us, you don’t. You’re a Taylor-Joy. You may look like a fucking goddess, but you don’t and will never fit in here.”
I pushed miserably to my legs which wobbled slightly, feeling the threat of tears at the back of my eyes. Mason’s face softened as he noticed I was genuinely upset.
Boyd leaned forward and snatched a controller. His frame suggested he was angry; he blatantly didn’t like me being in his brother’s life.
As I made to move past the gap between the chair and the sofa, Boyd’s next words stopped me, “And keep it down tonight. It’s funny how you’re so quiet in the day but so loud at night-time.”
“I don’t know what you mean?”
“Boyd, I think that’s enough,” Mason bit out. His voice was now like steel. He wasn’t happy.
“When my brother is fucking you. I can hear your screams from my bedroom.”
BOOM! A sense of dread shot up my spine and I was frozen to the spot. Had they heard me and Nixon together? The thought was mortifying and I felt exposed.
“You can hear us?” Mortification dripped from those words.
“The whole fucking house can. And I suppose it’s to be expected as that’s the only reason he put a fucking ring on your finger. Sex on tap.” Boyd snapped.
“Enough,” Mason commanded in a firm voice as he came to his feet and gave his brother a hard stare. He then spoke to me without looking at me .
“I suggest you go upstairs, Jenna. I’ll deal with my dickhead of a brother here.”
I nodded and almost ran from the room. As I mounted the stairs, I could hear Mason’s raised voice. He was angry with Boyd and I was pleased about that. He appeared to be the only friend I had, even though he had sat on the fence for most of that horrible discussion.
It was, unfortunately, one of many.
I was in bed when Nixon came in. The bedroom door was large and heavy and rattled as he opened it. The rebuild they had of the house was new but the internal décor was still quite traditional and they had used some of the original items that hadn’t been destroyed in the fire.
“You didn’t need to wait up. I’ve been with the vet for most of the day,” Nixon explained as he strolled into the room, commanding the space with his presence. His body language suggested he was tired but he was still a tower of strength to me.
I lowered my book, my eyes drinking him in. He was filthy, wearing grey overalls and work boots. He lowered his body onto the side of the bed and started to remove his boots. I grimaced hoping he didn’t transfer mud to the duvet.
“Any luck?” I questioned, placing the book on the bedside table.
“Nope. Had to have three more Herefords put into quarantine,” Nixon explained, glancing around to look at me. His eyes dipped to my chest which was peeking out of the top of the covers. I had my deep green nightdress on, the cups that held my breasts was lace and see through. Nixon twisted away and pushed himself to his feet, starting to remove his coveralls, the muscles of his shoulders flexed. He only glanced at me briefly but I’d seen the desire and intent in his eyes. Nixon always wanted sex after a hard day’s work. He said it relaxed him .
I, however, was not in the mood for a change. Not only because he was late and had missed dinner, but mainly due to what Boyd had said. Nixon hadn’t gone without sex one night since we’d been married. I didn’t believe that he’d only married me for my body, the thought was ridiculous. I knew he loved me, but Boyd’s words had rattled my cage. There was also that comment that the boys heard us having sex. A thought I didn’t relish. I didn’t realise I was that vocal and would feel thoroughly embarrassed if that was the case.
“I’ll take a shower,” Nixon’s voice pushed into my thoughts, “Care to join me?” He said with a suggestive look.
He stood in just his boxer briefs, his perfect masculine body bathed in the light from the lamp. The tattoos on his arms seemed to expand as he held out one large hand, encouraging me to place my own in it. I wanted to; I really did. But something just didn’t sit right with me. It was like something had been tainted by my discussion with Boyd if you could call it that.
I inhaled as quietly as possible and then managed to shoot him a syrupy smile. I didn’t want him to know there was something wrong, not yet, “No, I’m good thanks. I’ll just wait for you. Finish my chapter,” I purred, motioning towards my book.
You could hear a pin drop. Nixon’s brows threaded as he lowered his hand and quirked his head to one side. His gaze was deep, penetrating, trying to assess the situation. I was pleased he looked surprised, confused even. It would do him good to know he didn’t always have all the answers.
“Excuse me?” he drawled out in a low, dark voice that hit me right between the legs. It was the tone he used when he was about to open a can of bossy. What can I say, it turned me on, but I had to be strong.
“You’re turning me down?” Nixon drawled out slowly, his tone of voice one of disbelief. It only proved what his expectations were and how easily I fell into his lap. Talk about cake and eating it. Well, not tonight buddy .
“Yes, just because you’re all dirty and stuff,” I returned, pointing towards his muddy arms and neck.
He glanced down to where I’d motioned before he lifted his head and delivered a hard stare that oozed that special sexual ingredient. The one that Nixon could add to any conversation in order to fire things up between us, “I thought you liked me dirty?”
His reply almost knocked me off track. He was so much better at this stuff than I was, “Well, I do but—not tonight—not right now,” I stuttered suddenly sounding like a virgin with first time jitters.
“Suit yourself. I can always sort myself out in the shower,” Nixon replied with a dirty grin as he whipped his briefs off. He was already hard, his huge penis pushing up towards his belly button. My mouth almost watered, that sweet spot between my legs throbbing with need. God, I wanted him so much. Why was I then denying him and myself? To make a point. I wasn’t totally sure what that was but I knew it was important.
“Surely you can go one night without it?” I said folding my arms and shooting him a pointed look, refusing to look at that area where he was all man.
Nixon crossed his massive arms, mirroring my stance, his expression hooded, “Nope, no can do. Not when I sleep next to something that looks like you,” he pointed out with a flick of his head. I still blushed, his complement hitting home. This was usually how Nixon would start to seduce me, not that it took much. I pushed off his attempt to soften me up and remained firm.
For the first time since we’d been married, we were in a stalemate and I didn’t totally hate it. Was it wrong of me to want to feel hunted again after only a few short weeks of being caught?
“How about I take a shower, you remove that little bit of nothing you’re wearing and we pick this chat back up then?” Nixon purred with his hand on his cock, stroking up and down his long, slick length. My dirty thoughts started to bang on the door of my defences .
“Let’s see, shall we,” I returned with a snooty smile, retrieving my book, and dismissing him. A new tension sparked to life.
The predator in him roared, his smile wolfish, those eyes glittering with desire. We both knew Nixon would get his way, but I wasn’t going to do down without a fight. He knew I was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him.
A few minutes later, I placed the book back and listened to my husband whom I had sexually provoked, whistling calmly in the bathroom. It was a sign that a storm was coming. Nixon never whistled.
Pushing out of bed, I ran over to the door and unhooked my dressing gown. The fluffy one, Nixon hated. It was sexless he said. I pulled it on and shot over to my side of the bed again, mischief flaring within me. The horrible scene with Boyd forgotten.
After around fifteen minutes, he emerged from the ensuite in all his male glory with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp and he was in the process of towel drying it, his muscles bunching with the effort.
As he noticed me in the dressing gown, his face dropped, and that satisfied cocky expression he’d worn when exiting the bathroom was replaced with displeasure. Oh dear. I had provoked the beast.
“What?” I said with fake innocence. Flashing him my white teeth.
Nixon threw the towel he’d been holding onto the chair in the corner of the room and started to pace toward the bed, stalking his prey. He stopped at the bottom of the bed, watching me with a brooding look. You could have cut the air with a knife! Boy, now I knew what that saying meant.
He rolled his shoulders and suggested in a firm voice, “I suggest you take that hideous thing off. Unless you want me to rip it from your body?” His tone was dark and husky with pure devilment knitted into that expression.
My nipples tightened in the lace cups of my nightdress. Where was my decision to deny him, making him go a night without sex? Right out of the window, it seemed. Although I wasn’t beaten yet .
I wrapped the top section further around my body and shot him a defiant look, “I don’t think so,” I huffed.
Nixon being a man of action, shot forward, one hand shooting out to the covers and whipping them to one side and off my body. The cool air of the bedroom touched my skin.
I gasped as he snagged me by one of my ankles and dragged me down the bed, pulling me toward him. His action’s startled me, his grip was tight. My dressing gown and nightdress shot up and covered half over my face, exposing my underwear.
I attempted to struggle and push my other foot against his shoulder as he leaned over me, but he grabbed the other ankle and held my legs spread apart on the bed.
“Nixon,” I panted, excited with a burst of surprise. He released my ankles, my feet now useless as he had anchored himself between my thighs.
Nixon then pulled the cotton covering my face so I could see again and I looked up, panting. He loomed over me, his lower body pushing against me. I was trapped.
Our eyes clashed and fought but there would only be one winner.
“You asked for it, now keep still,” he instructed in a firm voice but I could see the playfulness in his eyes.
I lifted my hands as he freed me from the tangle of clothes and I pushed against his chest. He was as hard as a rock. This forced him to stop him from trying to untie the belt of the robe.
With a grunt, as I managed to kick one of his thighs with my heel, he grabbed my wrists, transferred them to one of his hands and dragged my arms above my head.
He then leaned down and whispered gruffly in one ear.
“I like the feisty wife act, but you do know that there will only be one outcome, Jenna. ”
Heat flooded my loins as Nixon raised his head and started to strip my clothes from my body. He had to release my wrists to pull the garments over my head, but he did so swiftly before I was trapped again. I was so turned on.
He was rough and I loved it. I tugged at my hands again, pretending to fight him, but we both knew it was part of the roleplay we had adopted.
I was now at the bottom of our bed, with my legs open and Nixon between them, his torso touching mine, my bared breasts kissing his chest.
“Tell me you want me,” Nixon said. “Tell me now or I won’t let you cum,” he arrogantly stated, like he held all the cards. And of course, he did.
Lust rushed through my pelvis and I ground myself against his hard length which, so far, had been kept at bay by the towel.
I arched my back as Nixon used his free hand to stoke me between my legs, “Yes,” I panted. He then shoved my knickers to one side and continued to tease me.
He stroked me playfully; my face was flushed and that sensation started to build as he thumbed my sweet spot. Just as I was about to explode, he stopped and my eyes which had been squeezed closed opened. Searching his face frantically, “You bastard,” I threw at him, with a half grin.
Nixon was watching me with a cocky expression, he still looked incredibly sexy.
“Well?” he said as he sucked my scent off his fingers. In no rush to continue his torture.
And I lost the battle, “OK, you win. I want you. Now! Please!” I cried, writhing against him.
Nixon’s entire face contorted, his lips parting. He then whipped off his towel and ripped my underwear, pushing his hardness against my core. I was so wet for him, so ready. The fact that he tore my knickers from me was thrilling .
He then leaned into me, crushing me against the bed, he was so big. Our mouths fused together, his tongue driving into my mouth. I couldn’t get enough of him.
Nixon McKenna, my sexy husband then slowly lifted his head, his eyes roaming my flushed features. He braced himself on one arm and used his other to position himself at my slick entrance.
Watching my expression and all the different emotions that were no doubt passing over my face, Nixon then slammed into me and I opened my legs more to accept him.
I lifted my body up to meet his every thrust, following his lead, allowing him to take and plunder. Our coming together was frenzied and I couldn’t stop the cries from coming out of my mouth so much that Nixon covered it with his hand at one point.
I moaned against his palm, the sensation of being silenced turning me on even more. He then replaced his hand with his tongue, licking the seam of my lips open, kissing me furiously. I yanked his hair as he drove me towards my climax and lit up when he grabbed my wrists and pinned them by my sides. Restraining me.
Our sex play was well worth it and my orgasm when it came rippled into several. Once I had found my release, Nixon joined me, growling into my mouth as he came thunderously inside me.
“ Fuck ,” Nixon growled a moment or two later as we were both laid on our backs next to each other, naked and breathing heavily. Sated.
“Yes, I agree,” I replied, feeling dazed, my entire body feeling so sensitive.
“You’ll have to misbehave more often,” he said turning in the bed and propping himself up on one muscled arm. His stance reminded me of that day when he’d taken my virginity at the base. His face was flushed and sweat beaded his brow .
I turned to face him as he ran one hand over my hair, pushing it back from my forehead. We were both hot, our bodies lined with moisture.
“I fucking love you Mrs McKenna.”
“And I love you, Mr McKenna,” I echoed.
And I did, and nothing would change that. Any negative feelings I’d experienced whilst being at the house had nothing to do with us.
I had to be strong and not allow others to ruin what was practically perfect. Yes, I had started to feel lonely but Nixon was dealing with a crisis, once that was resolved, it would be better, we would see each other more. I wouldn’t feel as left behind. My time trapped in the house would feel less like a prison sentence.
Bottom line. Nixon was mine now, we were together and everyone else would just have to get used to that.