26. Emmett
Emmett
“ A person’s words should always be regarded with respect but when we analyze the motive, we discern the matter of loyalty or treachery.”
My mother used to say that, and she was right.
My wife’s words are one thing but her motive tonight, coming out dressed like a regal vixen. The two shouldn’t go together, but my wife’s supernatural ability of shifting the atmosphere and making the impossible easy was on full display just now.
Then she completely ignored me! After not seeing me for several days!
I’ve never actually thought of what will happen after I die.
As a matter of fact, for most of my fucked-up heartbeats, I’ve never cared enough to give a damn about that.
After someone is dead, they’re fucking gone and that’s that.
So-called family members and friends, if you’re lucky enough, will go through the motions of a half-hearted grief session, shed a few tears here and there, pour out some liquor as you get lowered in the dark depths of the earth—if Noah is present—leave some perishable flowers, and then eventually go back to their own lives and forget all about you.
The tears will dry as fast as the liquor. The flowers will wilt and the dead will remain just as dead as before, if not rotten by then.
I saw it when George ‘died.’
It was a foreshadow of my own death and that was just fucking fine, acceptable even, but now it’s different.
Especially when the one person who has kept me wanting her is completely ignoring me, smiling and laughing at my shithead cousin’s nonsense and not sparing me a glance.
Now, this wild behavior is unacceptable. That my whole life can go to shit just because she doesn’t look at me is insane!
I crave her more than life itself. She’s my one and only drug, and I’m done fighting tooth and nail pretending like she doesn’t bring me to my knees.
Yes, these past few days I’ve been away, but I had no choice.
I also needed time to think about her demand that she can’t seem to let go of, but that still doesn’t warrant such heavy measures of giving me the silent treatment like this.
I don’t mind that she spent a lot of money recently. It didn’t put a dent in her net worth or mine.
But I do mind that she ignored my calls, hasn’t so much as read my texts, or looked at me.
I can’t help the fucking surge of anger that took over my blood when she went straight for Vaughn.
If I could, I would’ve gone straight to knock out that jerk. My wife still thinks I don’t like causing scenes, but she doesn’t know how brazen I can be.
Might as well educate her.
Cutting across the room like a javelin piercing the wind, I grab my wife’s hand and make my way straight out of the room.
“Whoa, cousin,” I hear from behind me. “Don’t you think you’re being too overbearing? Ivy and I were just talki?—”
“It’s queen to you,” I snap. “My wife’s name is not for someone of your station to think about, let alone utter with that dirty mouth of yours. Unless, of course, you want me to wash it for you?”
I don’t wait for the bastard to respond.
“My wife and I have some points to drive home and make known once more,” I grit out.
Behind me, I hear my wife grumble something unintelligible while testing the hold I have on her small hand in mine.
“Clear the mansion!” I demand.
Immediately, my men come out of the shadows and start herding the guests out of my damn house, including Vaughn.
My instructions are not suggestions, nor is there room for negotiation.
Even the old cripple is wheeled out, but I don’t miss the smirk on his face as he leaves with the old heads he likes hanging around with.
Ignoring him, I take my wife with me to the backyard.
“Emmett, wait!” I don’t stop. “You’re walking way too fast. I can’t ke?—”
“Who the fuck am I to you?” I demand, turning around to look at her, unable to keep it in any longer.
Her huge brown eyes look up at me, glowing with defiance and rage, none of the shit she showed fucking Vaughn!
“What?”
“You heard me! Who the fuck am I to you, Ivy?”
Without meaning for it to happen, my chest heaving up and down so fast, the stupid new heart might give out at this rate, I crowd her in.
“I know your mind sometimes works to deceive you and keep you from thinking clearly sometimes, so allow me to fucking remind you.” I step even closer, wrap an arm around her soft waist, and pull her flush against me. If I could fuse her to me, I would.
“I’m not your fucking brother that you can lie to whenever it suits you!
I’m not a fucking friend that you can play with.
I’m your husband! You are MY wife! Your focus should be on me!
Your eyes should be on me! Your smile, your laughs, your every sigh, your moans, your pleasure, your pain is all mine, Ivy, is that understood? ”
Yes, I’m an asshole and it’s horrible that I’m claiming her like this, but this is the truth.
I feel her shudder in my arms at the same time that I hear her silent gasp of shock.
Suddenly, it starts snowing. The first snow of the season.
The snowflakes fall into her hair, but she’s never looked more beautiful than she does in this moment, it’s a sight enough to freeze over time.
With her wide expressive eyes fixed on me, her lips slightly parted, just waiting for?—
I swoop down and steal a bruising, salacious kiss from my wife. Everything in me holds and then starts working well again just from this.
Before I know it, my hand is at the back of her neck and she’s purring in my arms like a warm, fuzzy cat, kissing me back.
Her scent has been wafting in the ballroom all evening and now that she’s in my arms, her unique scent is the actual drug here.
My dick stirs and hardens. Before I can stop myself, I thrust against her lower stomach. Alarms go off in the back of my head.
I need to step away.
The situation is all wrong.
I’m not one to give in to carnality or even anger, especially not in front of people that have put a target on my back.
I should be focused, watching, preparing for what’s to come, but instead, here I am, losing my damn mind all because I’m kissing my wife.
I pull back and glare at her. “What are you doing to me?”
“I’m not the one who disappears and appears whenever he wants!” She glares right back.
“Are you mad at me?”
“For what?” she snaps. “You walked out on me that night, and now you’re reminding me that I’m your wife? Boy, please!”
“You are my wife,” I bite back. “And I’m not opposed to reminding you of this irrefutable fact.”
“As if I can forget,” she says haughtily. She’s pissed at me, all right.
I haven’t been doing a good job at showing my wife how I feel for her, but at the same time she should know better than to just flirt with my fucking cousin!
“And don’t you ever forget it,” I press. “It’s my name you carry.”
“Yeah, for now,” she seethes. “Nothing can last forever.”
Wait, what?
I immediately pull back to see the look on her face clearly.
“Are you counting down to the second I drop dead, Angel?” I ask softly, pulling her closer so I can run my fingers along the crook of her neck.
She swallows and looks at me hesitantly, clearly aware that the moment has crossed over from dangerous to lethal with just one question.
“Yes,” she answers defiantly, her jaw set. “You might have forced me into this. And I might’ve given my entire life and will to you, but I won’t let you destroy me.”
What?
“Lucky for me, your fucking black heart will kill you faster than I will remain yours.”
“Ivy—”
“Yeah, that’s right! I know your heart transplant doesn’t have a hundred percent success rate and you know what, I’m betting my whole life on that slim chance that you will croak and die!”
A red-hot daze descends over my vision before I can control it.
Her words are more than a deep cut, they are poison without an antidote, just like she is.
I knew that despite what everyone else thinks of her, my wife is nothing like a weak, damsel in distress.
Ivy Marie Easton is as cunning as she is beautiful, cutting in places you never thought possible.
Unfortunately for her, I also know where to strike.
“Did you think you’d escape me that easily, Angel?” I whisper. “Maybe you didn’t read our contract clearly.”
She falls silent, a questioning look in her eyes.
“You obviously missed a few things.”
With one hand, I rip her dress from the slit to her hip and without pausing, I quickly dip my fingers past and find that she isn’t wearing any panties. I hiss, finding her drenched and ready.
“Emmett…” she gasps when I wrap my other hand around her neck and slowly start to squeeze in time with sinking two fingers in her soaked sex.
“Oh…” she moans.
“You know, Ivy, I’m going to die, you’re right.” I thrust two fingers in her and squeeze around her neck as I whisper against her hair. “In fact, I might drop dead right this second or the next or next week. We both don’t know when it’ll happen but we’re both sure it will happen.”
She holds my gaze with dilated eyes, moaning and squirming, as if she’s unable to take it anymore.
“What you should know, however, is that even if I die, you’ll still belong to me!”
“W-what?”
Her voice comes out like a trembling mess, because now, I’m thrusting with reckless abandon, hitting her sweet spot repeatedly, over and over again. Her body tenses and quickens, ready to orgasm, so I stop.
“Emmett!” she snaps, frustrated. I only smile and start again, slowly, and she’s glaring at me.
When she throws her head back, eyes rolling to the back of her head, I know then that she’s ready to go off again, so I pull my fingers out and she screams in frustration, punching my chest.
“I hate you!”
“You hate me?”
“I fucking hate you, Emmett! I hate you!”
“Liar!”
I pick her up and head to the huge tree in the middle of the courtyard, then I have her in my arms, interlocking her feet at the small of my back after I unbuckle her shoes.
To my surprise, my wife gets to work unbuckling my trousers and then lowering my zipper as best she can.
“You want me,” I whisper hoarsely.
“This is just physical between us,” she states, still panting.
“No, this is us loving each other!”
“I don’t love you! Now fuck me!”
Frustrated by the steel I hear in her words when she says that, I press her against the bark of the tree, line my hard cock with her drenched pussy, and with my gaze fixed on her, I sink in balls deep, no holds barred.
“AHHH!” she screams.
Even though she’s wet, I’m still me. I come with a bite of pain—so she’s told me—and just a few days ago, she was still a virgin. I have to remind myself of this and tell myself to slow down as sweat beads on my forehead.
“Move,” she whispers sultrily. “Please move.”
“Baby…”
“I need this,” she moans. “Please, Emmett.”
I thrust hard and deep several times before either of us can catch a breath, and when she starts clawing my back, my name like honey dripping from her lips as I hit her favorite spot, I grow still.
“Why—”
“Look at me,” I command, feeling out of sorts by and frenzied by what she just said. The care I need to be giving her is nowhere to be found. We’re like two bunnies in heat, fueled by anger, lust, unresolved matters, and what she said…
She doesn’t love me?
I’m in pain, and she’s just tossing us away?
When she holds my gaze, lust burning in her eyes, I lean closer and take her lips in a branding kiss until we’re both gasping.
“You say you don’t love me and that you want nothing to do with me,” I seethe, thrusting deep. “I will die, that’s true, Angel, but you won’t be able to live without me.”