TWENTY-EIGHT | Crisp Confrontation | Tinsley
TWENTY-EIGHT
Crisp Confrontation
Tinsley
W hat the actual fuck?
I found the picture on my cell phone after searching through my previously opened tabs and was in utter shock. There was a photograph snapped without my knowledge of me giving Mitt head. The memory of his office and my husband’s muscular hand with his wedding band immediately gave away where the picture happened. I couldn’t ever forget such a hand gripping my hair, and the memory made me wet all over again. I wished I could wipe the heated event from my mind, but I couldn’t. Our fiery encounter was goddamn hot and had consumed me since.
The embarrassment of the lustful moment had led to me fleeing my husband’s office in a flustered mess with my pussy weeping through my panties. I was soaked. I had to change the ruined thong as soon as I got back to the estate and answer to a persistent best friend who’d kept calling me for an update on Operation Divorce. The plan had gone up in smoke, or in my case, flames, with my drenched pussy unable to put the fire out. My aching arousal craved more satisfaction and the bitch between my legs wanted more of my husband than I should want. But his cock was amazing, and I wanted him to fuck me until I couldn’t walk straight.
I had informed Holly that our scheme had failed and the only positive in her eyes was at least I got a sweet-ass ride out of the deal. Mitt could’ve returned the Rolls-Royce, but it was on its way for me to drive all around the city. I just had to suck him off to keep it. But her words made me disgusted with myself. I wasn’t someone Mitt could use to keep a car I didn’t even want when all I needed was the divorce he’d denied me of. This wasn’t about money, but about my freedom that I wanted back, but I had let Mitt stake his claim.
Mitt had made me get on my knees, and giving into him was his way of proving I was his. Not only was I upset with him but also with myself. I had allowed him to get to me and confirmed I’d do anything he wanted. I hated the power he held over me, but I couldn’t deny the control I had experienced with him. The way his dick pulsated in my mouth, and how I could make him squirm. All the noises coming from his delicious mouth until he came right where he wanted to. Straight in my mouth.
The recollection of stimulating my husband sent me into a feverish heat on my way to breakfast the next morning. An entire day had gone by after I had swallowed his come. I hated to admit that I had loved the taste of him, but I didn’t know if he’d enjoyed himself. He never came home from the office—he must’ve slept on the sofa. Mitt left me helplessly wondering if he had hated the oral sex I had given him. He certainly appeared to enjoy himself, but I had my doubts.
Should I even care?
No, absolutely not, but this was what Mitt did to me. He left me confused, vulnerable, and uncertain. All his hot and cold moments caused my head to spin. I hated the way he left me unbalanced but couldn’t deny how he made me question everything I had done until this point—the moment I was about to walk into the dining room and give him shit.
“How dare you?” I glared as I walked over toward Mitt, who was seated calmly in his chair. He had already started eating without me.
He chewed some bacon, swallowed, and peered up at me. “Me? You’re the one who is late to breakfast, Wife. I’m famished after all the energy you depleted me of yesterday.”
My cheeks blushed. “I’m not talking about that .”
Mitt shrugged. “Then I have no idea what you could be referring to? You’ll have to be more specific.”
I held the screen of my phone up to his face. “I’m talking about this.”
“Oh, yes, that ,” Mitt breathed as he took a sip of orange juice and held no remorse.
“How could you?” I questioned with anger.
“It happened in the heat of the moment, Tinsley,” Mitt explained without a flicker of regret. “You were sucking on my dick, and I was enjoying it.”
Mitt admitted what I had been unsure of. He loved my mouth wrapped around his cock. Enough to take a picture of the sensual act.
I flushed even brighter, but I pressed on. “So, you figured it was okay to go into my phone and take a picture of it? Why not take a picture on yours? That way, you could jerk off to the memory because I’ll never be doing it again.”
I spun around on my heels, fire boiling through me. Unable to believe the nerve of this man and how big his ego actually was. I couldn’t stand Mitt and needed to get away from him.
Mitt grabbed my wrist.
I gasped as he pulled me to him. I spun back around, and I fell onto his lap. The back of his hand brushed my cheek in an ever so gentle caress—enough to leave shivers running down to my toes. He caused me to forget the reason I was hellbent on leaving the room, and I fell into the spell he cast from those magnificent hazel eyes—eyes of pure intensity as they swirled with passion and amusement all at the same time.
“Beau kept calling you,” Mitt admitted as he touched my lips, and his warm breath fanned my face. “So, I figured I’d send your ex a message.”
Stunned, I stared at Mitt, bewildered by his willingness to go to such great lengths. He had texted Beau. My husband had gone into my phone and sent my ex-boyfriend a clear message.
Stay away from me.
I couldn’t turn away even if I tried because the magnitude of his gaze turned into a stone-cold ice storm. The mention of my ex put him right on edge and the bitterness in his body language was clear. Mitt Morgan was envious and downright dangerous.
I asked through parted, trembling lips, “Why would you do that?”
“Because you belong to me, Tinsley...” Mitt answered without hesitation and took my hand. “And this ring proves it.”
The wedding band Mitt had bought for me twinkled against his handsome face as he gazed down at it and peered back up at me. His wife. Mitt’s eyes turned into a soft and sweet glimmer. He made me feel as if I was his everything.
“You didn’t have to confront Beau like that.” I sighed and turned my head away.
Mitt grabbed my chin, turning me to lock eyes with him. “I’d do anything for you, angel.”
Everything heightened. All my senses screamed at me that this was my husband. Mitt Morgan, the man I had first met before everything changed, and I knew he’d come back to me. I wanted him so badly to stay, and I reached out to touch his face. His whiskers rough against the graze of my fingertips, and I couldn’t help the tears blurring my vision.
“Finally...” I whispered with a smile. “The man I first met has come back.”
Suddenly, my words stopped Mitt cold, and he pushed my hand away. He forced me out of his lap but grabbed my cheeks and puckered them together. I gasped with surprise as he pulled me close, and I stared back at the grumpy man, who didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.
“That man is only in your fucked up fantasy, Tinsley. He never existed and you need to forget him because this is your husband.” Mitt pressed his lips against mine in a harsh kiss, and his teeth bit into my bottom lip until he pulled back. “Stone cold, ruthless, and strictly business.”
My lip throbbed. The pain he had served me hurt.
“I hate you.” I glared at Mitt through tears and yanked my face away.
“Good. That makes two of us,” Mitt hissed and went back to eating his breakfast. “Now sit down and eat your food.”
I wanted to run, to flee and hide from the monster who’d made a comeback. The sweet side of Mitt had only come out for a brief appearance, or maybe it was all in my damn head. A screwed up imaginary husband I had made up, and he was right. I needed to forget him because that side of Mitt Morgan wasn’t real. Unfortunately for me, this crabby man was my husband, and there was a big event I expected him to attend this evening.
The tears in my eyes blinked away in a matter of seconds, and I went to the opposite end of the table. I wasn’t hungry, but I’d sit to appease him because if I didn’t, I knew the consequences. My event planning business would go up in smoke, and I needed the Black-Tie Charity Ball to go off with no problems, but unfortunately, I required my husband to be there. The press would surely make an appearance and Mitt not being by my side wasn’t an option. I had to stroll in on his arm, and he was on the guest list along with multiple eligible billionaires who’d donate a big check to a good cause.
“The Black-Tie Charity Ball is tonight,” I announced.
A moment of silence ticked by, and Mitt piqued my anger. I held the emotion at bay even though I wanted to lunge across the table and strangle him. He continued eating and wouldn’t even glance up from his plate while he shoved food down his throat.
I added, “I’m the event planner for the event.”
Mitt’s eyes shot up, and he glared down the table at me. “Who hired you?”
“Why do you care?” I snapped.
“Because you’re my wife.”
I ignored his grumpiness and showed my pride.
“It was a woman. Mrs. Chambers. She brought the opportunity to my attention after we tied the knot, and I couldn’t pass up such a wonderful opportunity,” I explained, even though I didn’t want to.
“I already had plans to attend with my father, but I didn’t know you’d be in charge of such an elaborate event,” Mitt admitted as he dropped his fork and stood up from his seat.
“Neither did I, and the offer quite surprised me. Mrs. Chambers offered it to me because the previous event planner ended up in an unfortunate accident,” I said as I watched Mitt fix his suit’s tie and move in my direction. “I guess my name came up after making headlines, and they wanted me last minute.”
Mitt stopped in front of me as his broad figure loomed over me. He sat against the edge of the table with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He studied me for an entire minute and turned his head away. His intense eyes peered straight ahead. Something was on his mind, and he appeared uneasy. Once again, Mitt perplexed me because not even ten minutes ago he pushed me away, and now he was closer, as if nothing had happened.
“Mrs. Chambers?” Mitt questioned, as he uncrossed his arms and tapped a finger against the table.
“Yes. She was lovely,” I breathed with a shrug and chewed on a piece of buttered toast. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Mitt pushed himself off the table. “No. It’s nothing. I’ll be there and ready to escort you to the ball.”
Before I could utter a thank you, Mitt headed out of the dining room and didn’t turn back. He left me speechless because he didn’t argue. His grumpy attitude diminished, and he agreed to take me. On the outside, I was excited. The event I had been planning in secret was off to a good start, but inside, I was screaming. Nothing could go wrong. Everything had to go as I had planned or else the career I had spent my adult life perfecting was over.