TWENTY-TWO | Cold Envy | Mitt
TWENTY-TWO
Cold Envy
Mitt
I could still taste her fucking gratifying pussy on my tastebuds and hear her scream ring through me. The sound vibrated through every inch of me as she corrupted my soul and made me into a man I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t stop thinking about the cry she gave for her husband as she came all over my mouth and made a mess, but I didn’t care. I’d bury my face in her sweet slit all over again, even though that wasn’t part of the plan.
I shouldn’t want to touch her, to kiss her, and have her ride my face until she was gasping for more. I should hate her, loathe having her in the room, and not invite her to dinner because I knew this had nothing to do with the press. This had to do with what happened between us when it damn well shouldn’t.
I wanted more. Needed her. I was starved for her presence.
My wife had peeled back layers no other woman had. The little angel who wasn’t so fucking innocent after coming in my mouth and tempting me when she shouldn’t. Every inch of her beautiful body replayed in my mind as the glow of her skin illuminated in the dim light. From her perky tits jerking when she bucked her hips to the way her lips parted, and I wanted to grace them with a life-changing kiss. I had a fierce need to have her and take her, making her mine even more than our signatures on a dotted line.
But I held my savage need back.
Last night was all about my wife, my angel, and overcoming her fear. Her terror she couldn’t forget until there was me. I was confident in my ability because she was mine, and I won’t have anything or anyone ruin that. Not even a cold chuck of ice.
“Motherfucker,” I grumbled as I peered down at my Rolex wristwatch, and my mouth twitched.
The time moved past six. My fingers tapped on the table, and I rubbed a hand down my face. Irritation stirred through my stiff bones, and I shuffled in my seat. I took a swig of some whiskey to loosen myself up, but the drink couldn’t take off the edge.
My wife was late, not on time as I had ordered her to be, and I wouldn’t sit here waiting one more minute.
Tinsley was mine, and she knew what was at stake for being tardy. She wouldn’t risk it. I knew her inside and out. Better than I even knew myself at this point since I shouldn’t give two shits about her, but her existence was my top priority. I had to know where she was.
I sent her a text.
Me: You’re late, Wife.
Nothing. Not even a sharp remark back. Dead silence.
I called her cell phone. The device rang on repeat with no answer. She was trying my patience. But her sweet voice came on through her voicemail, and I barked a new order at her. “Call me immediately.”
I shouldn’t give a damn and eat a hearty meal without her by my side, but I couldn’t stop images from playing out in my head: Tinsley stuck in a ditch somewhere while snow blew all around, desperate for help. Albert was behind the wheel and a careless driver had struck them, her body mangled in the back seat of my limousine.
My mind went to the worst when it shouldn’t, and I dialed all hospitals in New York because I had to put my overactive dark thoughts to rest. Each nurse assured me she wasn’t a patient after I had yelled at them to make sure. Ready to take a taxi to any emergency room if I felt their answer didn’t sit right with me, but she wasn’t there.
Tinsley was probably doing this to get a reaction out of me with her childish behavior. She made me desperate. Frantic to know where she could be as my watch hit the ten minutes mark for being late, and I got out of my seat.
My leather loafers paced the floor as I made another call because I needed to know what was going on. She was driving me absolutely crazy, and the idea of something happening to her made me into a man I had never been before. A husband worried sick about his wife, who was missing when she should be where I told her to be.
Tinsley should be at my favorite restaurant, eating her food and annoying the hell out of me. But she wasn’t, and I needed, no, I had to know where she was. I had to know she was safe before I flew off the handle, destroying anything in my path that impeded me from getting to her. Because Tinsley Morgan was mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine!
Albert answered on the fourth ring. “Hello, sir.”
“Albert...” I panted as I held onto the back of the chair and my knuckles were white. “Where’s my wife?”
“She’s with me,” he answered after a pause.
Relief combed through me. Tinsley was with Albert. She wasn’t in a ditch. She was unharmed. He would’ve called me by now if anything had happened to her, but he hadn’t informed me there was a change of plans.
I boiled to a breaking point.
“Why?” I hissed and ran a hand down my face. “Goddamn it! I told you to bring her here.”
“Yes, sir. I know that, but Mrs. Morgan insisted otherwise, and you wanted me to drive her.”
“But I’m paying you, Albert!” I yelled into the speaker and blood rushed to my head. “I gave you simple instructions.”
“And your wife gave me hers,” Albert explained as he stayed on course with his decision to take her side and not mine.
Difficult woman. Sexy as hell and intelligent, too. She could play anyone, getting everything she wanted, and she was playing me.
God, Tinsley Morgan was such a good fucking wife, she was on the verge of being bad. Her wicked ways not only got to me, but to my chauffeur, who had worked for me for years. We were doomed from the moment she came into our lives, and I thought I could control her. Bend her the way I wanted and shape her into a trophy wife. Everything my father had wanted, but I could see I had a lot of work to do.
I questioned, “What command did she give you?”
“To take her to Beau Kingston.”
I picked the chair up off the floor and slammed it back down. With the impact, the back legs broke off my seat and gasps of surprise came from the kitchen. The commotion of my outburst brought the server out of hiding, but he didn’t utter a peep. I was beyond furious. Anger fumed to its peak inside of me, and I was on the edge of an explosion.
I needed to see my wife. Now.
“Give. Me. The. Address,” I spat out each word.
Albert did as he was told, giving me the destination. My anger never got to him. He was used to my madness, accustomed to my calculated coldness, and always by my side, even when he shouldn’t be. Nothing about me frightened him, but my change of attitude certainly alarmed the restaurant staff. The manager came out, staring at me with wide-eyed shock as I hung up the phone and threw the rest of the ruined chair onto the table.
“What the—”
“I’ll pay for the damage,” I interrupted, as I patted my business card against his chest and headed for the exit.
I didn’t have time to explain, not a minute to even think, because my mind reeled with new images as envy ruled every thought, and I wanted to end Beau Kingston. Tinsley’s ex-boyfriend was as good as dead.