27. Royce
“Ithink the arrest warrant for my wife and me is a bit too much,” I drawled, Byron on the other side of the phone. Willow was taking a shower, so I took advantage of the moment alone and called my brother. She was excited for the party despite the fact I’d warned her it would be scandalous—particularly if it was anything like the ones Winston used to host.
“A bit too much? You castrated the man,” Byron bellowed like a madman over the speaker. Thank fuck he wasn’t in the same room. “His parents found him naked. Stuart almost bled to death. Are you trying to put our family under a microscope?”
“When are we not under a microscope?”
“For fuck’s sake, Royce. With the shit that happened with Father, we can’t have people looking into us.”
Ah yes—our brother Winston finally put an end to the great Senator Ashford, and we were all the better for it. But that secret would never leak. The media had always been obsessed with our family, calling us the Billionaire Kings due to the fortune left to us by our mother. If we weren’t careful, they would be sniffing for details about our family twenty-four seven. We’d been holding them at bay for the past few decades, and we’d keep doing it now. Byron, as usual, was making an elephant out of a fly.
“What do you want me to say about Stuart?” I said nonchalantly, flicking a glance to the bathroom door. The shower had just stopped running, which meant Willow would be out any moment. “If anything, I did him and his temper a favor. Hopefully he’ll have better restraint now.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“If you’re about to pray, let me know so I can hang up.” It was probably not the best time to taunt him. He always took everything too seriously. “Just get in touch with our lawyer and let him handle it. This thing with Stuart is being blown out of proportion because of who his parents are. He was the one who put his hands on Willow, and I have the evidence to back it up. I’m not threatened by him or his family in the slightest.”
“I swear to God, if I knew it wouldn’t make Willow sad, I’d murder you right now.”
“Maybe you should consider murdering Stuart’s parents. They’re just as corrupt as Father was.”
“Yeah, let’s go killing everyone on our shit list.”
“I’m on board with it. Let me know what I can do,” I deadpanned. I could hear Byron’s exasperated breath over the line. “Of course, I’d prefer the executions to happen outside the States until the dust settles and this warrant is retracted.”
In light of everything, it’d probably be smart to extend my honeymoon with Willow. Maybe we could head to Venezuela next. I’d have to look up the country’s extradition laws. Fuck it, I’d make it a business trip and pour some money into the economy. Knowing how corrupt the government was currently, they’d gladly keep Willow and me there.
Perfect plan.
“Hold off on the killing spree,” Byron remarked dryly. “The lawyer tells me they have nothing on you.”
I let out a sardonic breath. “I find that hard to believe since I didn’t exactly stay behind to clean up my mess.”
“Well, someone did.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I bet it was Asher.”
“Who?”
“The fucking pirate.”
“Why would he do that?”
To get me to transport whatever shit he had stashed on that boat. The irony was that I scoured it to ensure there wasn’t some fucked-up shit left around and found nothing. The fucker was good.
“No idea,” I told him. I took a sip of my cognac, savoring the burn. “But Willow will be back any minute, so I can’t talk much longer. Just get the warrant taken care of. I’ll sail the seas a bit longer and?—”
“Great, now my brother’s becoming a pirate too. Just say arghhh.” My brother just cracked a joke. Hell was about to freeze over.
“Arghhh,” I retorted wryly, scratching my chin. “Happy?”
“With you? Not even remotely.”
“Life’s a bitch,” I taunted. Despite my brothers and I not always seeing eye to eye, we had each other’s backs. “I’ll stop in Venezuela and a few South American ports to get some business accomplished.”
“Maybe you should forgo South America. Come back so we can hide you and Willow?—”
“No.”
“You’re not being reasonable, brother.”
“Any option that jeopardizes Willow’s freedom is a no-go.”
“Fuck, you’re smitten,” he muttered.
“Look who’s talking.” I shook my head. “You jacked off for six years waiting for Odette to find her way back to you. I’m surprised you didn’t lose function in your cock.”
“Maybe I should let them arrest you,” he grumbled.
“Aurora will have your balls.” Our sister was the boss and we all knew it. She said jump, and we asked how high. “What will your pretty wife do then?”
The door opened, and I paused with my drink halfway to my mouth. Willow came out wearing a strapless green dress that Asher must’ve had delivered. I knew not to ask where in God’s name he managed to procure it, but I was looking forward to shredding it to pieces and fucking her brains out.
“As much as this was a pleasure, Byron…” Not. “I gotta go. I’ll keep in touch.”
I ended the call before he could say another word and locked my eyes on my wife. Fuck, she was gorgeous. Her auburn waves fell down her back, tempting me to take her right now and fuck her in every possible position.
Willow stepped in front of me, nudging my legs apart so she could stand between them. “Everything okay?”
“Perfect.” No harm in white lies. I wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer to me. My palm came down to her ass, roaming it affectionately.
“Anyone fucked your ass before?”
Her eyes shot to me and she scoffed, turning crimson. “What?”
I smiled smugly. “That’s a no.”
She swallowed. “It’s a no, but why are we having this conversation?”
“I’m going to be your first.” I rubbed her butt cheeks. When she gave me a confused look, I added, “I want to be the first to fuck your ass. I should have been your first everything.”
She gasped, then took her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’ve never…” She trailed off, and satisfaction shot its way through my veins. “I don’t know that you’d fit. You’re quite big.”
The arousal in her voice had my dick twitching.
“We’ll get you a butt plug.” A smile graced her full lips as she came to rest her hands over my shoulders. “Will you be drenched when I fuck your ass?”
“Yes.” Her shallow pants poured raw lust through me and my groin tightened. She attempted to regain composure, but it was a moot point. Both of us were too far gone. “You still haven’t told me what kind of party this is.” Her raspy voice was doing shit to me.
“The kind where people fuck and watch others get fucked.” I leaned closer to her, sinking my teeth around one of her nipples through the material. “Oh, baby, no bra?”
Her nails dug into my shoulders, and she thrust her chest into my face.
“It’ll give you easier access,” she murmured.
“I can’t wait to fuck you like a good girl while others watch, wishing they were me.”
She pulled back and gulped a few breaths. Her eyes were etched with worry. “R-Royce…”
The need to ravage her slowly dissipated into worry. “If you don’t want that?—”
“I want it all with you,” she said in a soft voice. “I just need to know that you’ll…” She paused, searching for the right words. “That it’ll be just you touching me.”
“Nobody will touch you but me.” The possession in my voice was like a volcano ready to erupt, but it must have been the reassurance she needed. She was fucking mine. And always would be. Just because I didn’t murder Stuart, it didn’t mean I wouldn’t kill anyone who dared touch my wife. “Would you like a preview?”
She shuddered, her arousal drifting into the air between us.
“Yes, please.”
I stood up, spun her around, and bent her over the bed. She glanced over her shoulder as I bunched her dress around her waist. My palm snaked between her legs, yanking her panties off.
She giggled. “Well, those lasted all of two minutes.”
My lips brushed against her ear, nibbling on her earlobe, and she moaned.
“I’m going to fuck you,” I grunted. “You’re not going to wash off afterward. I want you walking around with my cum inside you, leaking down her inner thighs.” I slapped her pussy. “Understood?”
She yelped in surprise. “What?—”
“That’s for not acknowledging me.” I slapped her pussy again. “Now, what are you going to do after I fuck you?”
“I’m going to walk around with your cum trailing down my legs,” she moaned, bringing a hand between her legs.
Another slap against her swollen pussy.
“Do not touch yourself.” My palm landed on her pussy again with a loud slap, her wetness making obscene noises. “And this is for making me wait, my beautiful wife.”
“It was a quick shower,” she protested as I slid my hard cock along her drenched folds, poised at her entrance. I brought my hand around to her hip, my fingers digging into her flesh while the other gripped her throat.
“Not quick enough.” I slammed into her, and she let out a whimpering sob.
I stilled, feeling her walls close around my length.
Willow looked over her shoulder with a huff and uttered, “Don’t you fucking stop now.” My lips curved in satisfaction.
Letting loose, I slammed into her tight heat. She moaned; I grunted. I fucked her with a savage-like fury, turning her into a scrambled mess. In and out. Harder and faster, each hard thrust bringing me closer to nirvana.
The tingles at the base of my spine began to climb as I thrust deeper and faster, until she came apart around me, her inner muscles clenching around my cock.
I followed her right over the edge, coming apart in the most powerful orgasm I’d ever experienced.
We exited our bedroom on the top floor of Asher’s mansion. Our steps were quieted by the plush rugs. The walls were covered in dark paneling, giving the house an isolated feeling. While it had modern amenities, its ambiance gave the impression of being stuck in the Middle Ages.
Kind of like Asher.
Something about him rubbed me the wrong way, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“Holy shit,” Willow whispered, and I followed her gaze over the rail toward the bottom of the stairs, where the white marble floor was dusted with red rose petals.
“Jesus, it looks like blood,” I muttered. “Some fucked-up sacrifice ritual.”
She clucked her tongue at me, squeezing my hand. “Only you would find something wrong with this picture,” she reprimanded with a giggle, pointing to a row of red candles. “I think it’s kind of romantic.”
“Dracula-themed you mean.” I grinned when she shot me a warning look. “We’ll see what you think when this party’s in full swing.”
Her cheeks flushed, probably letting her imagination run wild. The truth was she probably wasn’t even scratching the surface.
We were just about to reach the stairs when a photo caught my eye and I stopped, my brows scrunching. It was of a young woman, white-blonde curls and sad blue eyes holding a baby in her arms.
“What is it?” Willow asked, studying the photo. “You know her?”
“She looks like…” No way, it couldn’t be. Willow squeezed my hand, urging me to finish my thought. “She looks like a housekeeper who worked for our family years and years ago. But it couldn’t be.”
“Why not?”
I dug my cell from my pocket. “Because she died. She never had a baby.”
“Maybe she adopted,” Willow offered. Except, my instinct warned me it was something else. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to snap a photo of it and send it to Byron. He was older when she was around. He’ll recognize her.” With a whoosh, the photo was on its way to my brother. Before I even had a chance to put my cell away, a text came back.
Why are you sending me photos of our maid? I don’t want my wife to think I have eyes for anyone but her.
I typed a message back.
Delete the message, then.
His reply was instant.
You’re a dick. Who’s the baby?
“So it is her,” Willow breathed. “What an odd coincidence.”
“Isn’t it?” I agreed.
“Or maybe I set it up so you could finally learn the truth.” Asher’s voice came from behind us—the fucking creep—and Willow whimpered, jumping closer to me. This pirate would have to learn not to sneak up on my wife or he’d find himself in the bottom of the sea.
Slowly turning around, we came face-to-face with him. He stood with a glass of rum in his hand, his freakishly blue eyes flickering to the photo.
“Who’s the baby in the photo?” I asked, holding my breath for what I already knew.
Tension clicked in the air, and we stared each other down.
“I am.” I waited, knowing he wasn’t done dropping bombs. “And Senator Ashford is… pardon, was my father.”
The silence stretched so long I worried that if I broke it, I’d cause irrevocable damage.
“Holy shit.” Willow ended up being the one to cut through it. “Your father sure got around.”
That he did, and for some reason, the old man never learned to use a fucking condom.