Chapter 14 #2
But, most importantly, I won’t play second favorite to the motherfucker who did all this in the first place.
Who has been playing his own role as a perfect boyfriend when the dumbass never met her in the first place.
He lied the first time they officially met, and I’m the bad fucking guy here.
I’m the villain in her story.
And, if that’s the character I’m going to be, I may as well go hard with it.
“Come here, Meirna.”
“No,” she immediately retorts, pushing back a little into the couch when I rise to my feet.
She’s not scared of me. There’s that little lift of her chin that silently dares me to either do my worst or show her everything I’ve been hiding.
And what I’ve been hiding is my deep and dark obsession with the curly-haired daydream of mine.
It’s downright toxic with the number of times I’ve thought of this woman.
The many positions I’ve reflected on fucking her. The many ways I could make her happy, content, and successful. How easily she would fit into my family with my mother, and sister.
Meirna is perfect for me, and I’m the opposite for her. I’d ruin her for everyone else. I would make her wish for space when I can’t keep my hands to myself.
And, right now, is one of those fucking times.
“You wanna go home, Daydream?” Her lips part, and I know there’s a yes behind them when I round the coffee table and add on, “Then fight me to get out.”
Her face skews as she cranes her head to look up at me. “What?”
“Fight me.”
She’s not able to get another word in because I’m the bad guy. Bad guys are unpredictable—the good ones, anyway.
If you’re truly someone who can completely uproot someone’s life and not be figured out beforehand, you’ve got the title and name hands down.
I yank Meirna out of the couch and onto her feet before she can blink twice. She’s over my shoulders by the third.
And by the sixth, she’s on the floor next to the big ass Christmas tree in the corner of the living space with me between her legs.
Meirna swings at me, connecting with my cheek on a hard slap that I know has her palm stinging.
My skin feels like it’s on fire, but I feel alive.
And I feel pissed.
“Get off me!” she bellows out, her frame trying to throw me off as she pushes up on her heels. “You’re a misleading piece of shit!”
“No, I’m the bad guy, Daydream,” I taunt, pinning one of her arms over her head, but I permit her use of the other just for fun. “Let me show you how I feel about playing second best to my brother. Again.”
Releasing her arm, I use both my hands to rip at the thin satin material of her pajama pants.
Meirna sits up, shoving at my chest the moment she has the momentum, but I’m able to tear at the material of her pants, making the most satisfying fraying sound to my ears.
Another slap to the face, and I ground my jaw. The pain is an instant reaction to counteract, but Meirna’s golden brown eyes keep me balanced.
Her stubborn, prideful, and bruised ego over the fact that she’s been with me and didn’t know it.
It’s a bitch, I’ll admit.
However, we fit, and I’ve never experienced a connection with someone like I do with her. So much so that I know her anger is directed at me and herself. And if I have to take each one of her slaps to make her feel better, I will.
“Hit me harder, Meirna,” I grit, undoing the button of my dress slacks when she shoves at me again. “When my cock is out, you’re not getting free of me. You love Christmas. And I love fucking you around this time. It’s our thing.”
I’ve never been punched in the side of the neck before.
I don’t know if she missed or purposely aimed in that vicinity, but I grunt and choke on a breath, which gives Meirna confidence that she’s going to win this thing.
Fat chance.
And it’d have to be a Christmas fucking miracle because I’m not stopping. Apparently, my Daydream needs to be reminded of what happens in the dark when we’re together. Under the guise of judgment and Bobby, where we blend and mold into each other.
Emotionally.
Physically.
Mentally.
Shit, spiritually, if you want to go there.
“I’m never having sex with you again,” Meirna rants, plummeting my biceps and shoulders with her fists. “You should’ve told me.”
“And would that have made a difference? You were already six months into a relationship with my brother and passing around the ‘L’ word. I wanted you to live happily ever after. But that was before I figured shit out.”
Meirna delivers a blow to my ribcage when my cock springs free. “Too little, too late. I can take care of myself.”
She can.
But not with the mob shit. That’s my area of expertise.
With my palm, I shove Meirna back to her spine, earning her fingernails digging into my skin.
I’m pushing a line—another one. But I’m too far into the gray to give a flying shit. I’m second to Bobby? We’re about to see about that.
Capturing the wrist of the hand that’s currently piercing moon-crested marks into my skin, I position it over her head again and give her free rein of her other.
I position my cock to her entrance, and Meirna bucks up to keep me from penetrating. It only buys her a few seconds.
“I said stop,” she bellows out, shoving at my arm so I lose my hold on taking her. “I don’t want you.”
I’d say that’s a lie.
That she’s wanted me before. But I’m here to test that theory to its fullest.
If she wants Bobby, at the end of the day, that’s too fucking bad.
She’s my wife.
And I’m not handing her back to the Hardings with the promise of ruining her entire life.
She can hate me.
She can despise what I’ve done and never let me off the hook.
However, I’m not going to change my mind. No matter how hard she cries or begs me to let her leave.
Meirna is everything I’ve ever wanted and more.
And that’s when I thrust inside her tight cunt and remind her that her love, the shit she says runs deep for Bobby, it runs in her veins for me, too.