Chapter 18
The house was eerily quiet as I made my way down the dimly lit hallway, each step bringing me closer to the door at the end—Colson's bedroom.
My heart pounded in my chest, but I forced myself to keep moving.
I had made a decision, one that I wasn't sure I'd ever come to terms with, but it was my fate, and there was no escaping it.
The delicate silk of my champagne-colored negligee brushed against my legs as I walked, the sheer skirt floating around me like a whisper of the innocence I was about to lose. I paused outside his door, my hand trembling as I reached for the handle. There was no turning back now.
I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me. Colson was there, naked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped around his erection. His eyes locked onto mine, narrowing slightly as he took in the sight of me.
"You're beautiful," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.
I sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. "This was for our honeymoon."
"It suits you. Buy more."
I had more, plenty more. I’d bought several sets, one for each night of our honeymoon.
Colson had planned for us to fly to Nice, France, where his yacht awaited, ready to take us on a two-week journey through the Mediterranean.
It was supposed to be a time of luxury and adventure, but now, it felt like a looming prison sentence.
My gaze drifted to his hand, watching as he slowed his movements, the slickness of his arousal gleaming under the soft light. My throat tightened.
"On your knees, Josephine."
The command was gentle, almost coaxing, but it left no room for refusal.
I hesitated for a moment before lowering myself to the floor, the colorful wool carpet digging into my knees.
My lips felt dry, and I licked them nervously, the taste of bile still lingering after I had thrown up a half-hour ago.
"Closer," he whispered, and I inched forward until I was within reach.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, from the fluid seeping from his slit, a stark reminder of what was expected of me.
"Have you ever performed oral sex on a man?" he asked, his tone almost curious.
I kept my gaze fixed on his organ, wondering if it would choke me when I took it into my mouth. "You know I haven’t," I replied quietly, the words catching in my throat.
His hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of my long, dark hair and pulling my head down. "Take me in your mouth, Josephine. I’ve done it to you, and it’s only fair you return the favor."
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the reality of what was happening, and stuck my tongue out, tentatively touching it to his tip. His grip on my hair tightened, holding me in place as I tasted him for the first time.
It was salty, with a hint of something chemical, like bleach, but not entirely unpleasant. I opened my eyes, finding him staring at me, his gaze dark and intense as I wrapped my lips around his crown, swirling my tongue over it.
A low hum of approval escaped him, and he loosened his hold on my hair, leaning back on one hand as I began to move. I fisted the base of his shaft, guiding my mouth down as far as I could manage.
His hips began to move in rhythm with me, gentle pumps that sent him deeper into my throat. It wasn’t as bad as I had feared, but it was what came after that terrified me. Would this act of submission calm him, or would it only make him more aggressive?
"You suck me so good, Joey. Move your mouth faster."
I complied, increasing my pace, my hand squeezing tightly around his base. He grunted in pleasure, his hips bucking slightly as he neared release.
"That’s it, Joey. I’m going to come soon, and I’d like to do it on those lovely tits of yours."
He sat up, his hands pushing the delicate spaghetti straps off my shoulders, exposing my bare breasts as the negligee pooled around my waist. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, sending electric shocks through my body, making me shiver despite the heat of the room.
With a gentle push on my forehead, he guided my mouth away, taking over the final strokes as he leaned forward.
Colson's breath hitched, and with a deep groan, he came, hot jets of semen splattering across my neck and breasts. He continued to stroke himself until my chest was coated in his release, then took my hand in his, guiding it down my belly, smearing the sticky fluid over my skin.
"You look gorgeous painted white."
He brought his thumb to my lips, slick with his cum, and pushed it into my mouth. I sucked on it, just as I had on his cock, licking it clean. His eyes darkened, filled with a hunger that made my stomach twist.
"I can’t wait to fuck you," he murmured, his voice heavy with anticipation.
I bit down on my lip, the taste of him still lingering on my tongue. "Please, Colson," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled, a cruel twist of his lips that made my heart sink. "I’ve decided it won’t be tonight, but I haven’t decided if it will be before or after our wedding."
He rose from the bed, leaving me kneeling on the floor, my body shaking with a mix of relief and dread.
The reprieve was temporary, a stay of execution that did nothing to alleviate the fear gnawing at my insides.
I stayed there, frozen, until he left the room, his footsteps echoing as he entered the bathroom.
Only then did I dare to move, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall silently down my cheeks.
A loud cry shattered the silence, jolting me awake. For a moment, I was disoriented, unsure of where I was or what had happened. Then I heard it again—a raw, gut-wrenching sound—and I knew. Easton was trapped in another nightmare.
I slipped out of bed and quietly made my way to the closet. The hidden door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, revealing the darkened corridor that connected our rooms. I hesitated for just a second before stepping inside, my bare feet padding silently across the cold floor.
As I entered his room, the dim light from his bedside clock cast a soft glow on his twisted form.
He was clutching the sheets, his knuckles tight as another tortured cry escaped his lips.
My heart ached for him. Without a second thought, I hurried to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently running my fingers through his damp hair.
“Shh, Easton,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing. “It’s just a dream.”
His body gradually relaxed under my touch, and his eyes fluttered open, unfocused and dazed. “Joey, you came to save me,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep.
I offered him a small, sad smile. “Always.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze still distant. “It was the same. It never changes. We’re trapped… she’s already dead, and it takes them ages to get us out. I held her hand, and when I finally let go… her skin was already cool.”
My chest tightened at his words, the pain in his voice cutting through me like a blade. Easton didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to have his mother’s death haunt him every night.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, cupping his sweaty cheek, my thumb brushing away the remnants of his nightmare.
“Stay with me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, vulnerable in a way I’d rarely seen when he was awake.
I nodded, unable to refuse him, knowing that I needed his comfort as much as he needed mine.
I stood and walked around to the other side of the bed, slipping beneath the cool sheets.
The mattress dipped as I moved closer to him, and we met in the middle, his strong arms pulling me against his chest. His warmth enveloped me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to forget everything else.
If I had to marry an Ashworth, why couldn’t it be him?
“Thank you,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
“Easton,” I began hesitantly, “do you have these nightmares when you stay with… women?”
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. “Usually not. A companion in my bed keeps them away.”
“I’m glad,” I whispered, even though the thought of him with other women twisted something deep inside me.
He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, and I closed my eyes, savoring the brief moment of peace. “Why are you marrying my father?” he asked suddenly, the question hanging in the air between us like a storm cloud.
My heart skipped a beat. Easton had never broached this subject before, and I wasn’t sure how to respond.
I couldn’t tell him the truth, that his father had dangled the futures of my family in front of me like bait, promising me the world if I just agreed to be his wife.
Their lives were in my hands, and I couldn’t risk losing everything.
“He asked,” I said, my voice weak, knowing how hollow the words sounded.
“You could’ve said no,” he countered, his tone firmer now. “You’re too good for him. My mother was too good for him.”
I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, hiding from the truth I couldn’t speak. “It’s too late, Easton. The die is cast, and I have to follow through, or there will be consequences.”
“Consequences?” he repeated, his voice laced with concern.
I realized I’d said too much, revealed more than I intended. I bit my lip, searching for a way out. “You know your father,” I said quietly, hoping he’d understand without needing further explanation.
He was silent for a moment, and then he sighed, a deep, resigned sound. “I do.”
His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer, his body curling protectively around mine.
I felt a surge of gratitude for him—Easton, who was my only ally in this house of secrets and shadows.
But despite his love and support, I knew he lacked the power to change anything.
He’d refused to take his position at Ashworth after graduating, choosing instead to spend the summer enjoying himself before being tied to the family legacy.