Chapter thirty-seven
The Bex Corrigan-Jones Respite Centre
6 months later…June 2023
Violet
The good-looking doctor with dark hair and bright blue eyes stands on the small stage erected in the center of what used to be a farmhouse courtyard.
There must be two hundred people here to celebrate the opening of the Bex Corrigan-Jones Respite Centre.
Dr. Ben Jones is thanking everyone for coming and explaining how it came about that he and the beautiful red-haired woman next to him, Antonia, have gone about renovating what was a dilapidated farm, then turning it into a haven for families with terminally ill members.
Dr. Jones lost his wife to cancer five years ago.
The center is being opened in her memory.
“Look,” I whisper to Samantha, nudging her ribs with my elbow. “He’s not wearing a wedding ring anymore.”
“He’s a bit old for me,” she replies with a smile.
“Experienced, not old.” She bites her lip and scrunches up her nose. “He’s got four kids so he must have a good idea of what to do.”
“Do you both have to discuss this while I’m sitting next to you?”
Harrison hisses. “Actually, does it need to be talked about at all?”
He’s sitting beside me with our almost six-month-old daughter, Evie, in his arms.
She’s sucking greedily at the bottle he’s feeding her.
Once she’s finished, he arranges the cloth over his shoulder and burps her gently.
“Samantha is a single woman,” I tell him. “We are looking at what options are available to her. A lady has needs.”
“I think Samantha has plenty of options that satisfy said needs,” he says, glancing at her. “Isn’t that right, Samantha?” She flushes a delicate shade of pink and giggles. “From what I’ve been told, the providers of the satisfaction of your needs are fighting over you.”
“May the best man win,” she answers, and raises the champagne flute she’s drinking from toward him then takes a sip.
Harrison laughs and shakes his head. “Bloody tease. Russell and Connor are at each other’s throats, and you’re enjoying every damn minute.”
“That I am,” she says. “I hope they can learn to get along; it’s impossible to choose between them. I wish they could understand that.”
“Trust you to get yourself involved in a throuple with my brothers,” I whisper, feigning annoyance.
Secretly, I’m in awe. She handles both of them expertly.
Never did I think Russell would be under a woman’s thumb, but he is.
“You’d be better off losing both of them and getting some fresh meat,” I joke.
My eyes return to the doctor on the stage.
“No wedding ring and experienced. That could be a lot of fun.”
“Violet Waite, please stop eyeing up other men. Remember, you are a married woman with a ring on her finger,” Harry interjects.
“Whose husband will detach the limbs from any man who tries to get in your panties.”
I turn to face him. His eyes are dark, and he flashes me a cheeky smile.
“I’ll be the one removing those panties later, so you know who is boss. That’s a promise.”
The crowd bursts into a round of applause.
Dr. Jones lifts a hand thanking everyone and walks down the stairs from the platform.
His female companion follows him. They embrace once off stage, then she turns and walks over to a group of women who call her name.
He approaches us sitting in the front row.
Harrison rises and takes his hand; they shake firmly. “Congratulations,” Harry says. “What an incredible facility you’ve built here. A true honor for your late wife.”
“It wouldn’t have been possible without generous donors such as yourself and your good lady here,” he replies. “How is this little one?” He tickles Evie’s chin with a gentle finger.
“Noisy,” I say, and he laughs.
“Yes, mine are all teenagers or older now. They don’t get any quieter, I hate to tell you.” His focus returns to my husband. “Thank you again. Your donation made the difference between opening on schedule or having to delay. I can’t thank you enough.”
“No thanks needed. You were there when Violet needed you and we were strangers.”
Harrison wraps his fingers around my waist, our daughter safely tucked into his other arm.
“Now we are friends, and I will be there when you need me. Go and enjoy your success. I need to be getting my girls home.”
We say our goodbyes, then Harry ushers everyone to the car.
Samantha climbs into the back seat. “Where do you want to be dropped off?” he asks her.
“The Level,” she replies with a smile.
“Dare I ask who you are visiting?”
“The good brother,” she says with a wink.
We all arrive back at the gigantic apartment block I now call home. The private lift at the rear carries us to the boardroom. Samantha kisses my cheek then skips off in the direction of Connor’s apartment. “It’s going to end in tears,” Harrison says, and I shrug.
“I don’t know. She seems to care about them both equally. Maybe they could learn to share.” His eyes pop wide open.
“Share. You expect a man to share a woman with another man for the rest of his life.” His voice drops to a rumble. “I don’t share, so don’t get any fucking ideas.” Evie is sleeping soundly in her car seat, which he carries effortlessly in one hand.
“All relationships look different,” I say. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“We will not be trying it,” he snaps, then stalks off in the direction of our apartment.
“That ass of yours is going to sting tonight for even suggesting that. Be prepared not to be able to sit down tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder, and my pussy clenches.
Pissed-off sex with my husband is fucking hot.
Upon entering our home, I find my mother sitting on the sofa with her legs curled beneath her, reading a book. “Did you have a nice time?” she asks as Harrison walks over and places a kiss on her cheek.
“Hello Mum,” he says. “Yes, it all went incredibly well. The team has done such a good job. The facility will be a lifeline for some who need it.”
“That’s wonderful. Let me see my granddaughter,” she coos.
“There’s my girl. You’re coming to Nana’s for a sleepover tonight. What a big girl you’re becoming.”
She unfastens Evie from her car seat that Harry placed on our coffee table and bundles her into her arms.
“We are going to have an amazing girl’s night,” she tells her.
My daughter has given her a focus these past months as her life destructed.
After my father recovered from the gunshot wound to his back I inflicted on him, he was arrested on drug-dealing charges and is currently being held in Belmarsh Prison awaiting trial.
It turned out that our suspicions had been correct—the drug ring was headed up by him with Aiden playing a secondary role.
Harrison purchased a downstairs apartment in our building for my mother to move into after being left destitute.
All our family assets have been frozen awaiting the outcome of the case against my father.
The charges mount day by day as more men jump ship and add to the allegations.
He will be incarcerated for a very long time and most likely will never see the outside world again.
The knowledge is bittersweet. My heart breaks that my father is such a terrible man but swells that my husband has been part of the team that took him down.
Aiden Marley disappeared on the day of our failed wedding.
He slipped out the back door amongst the chaos and hasn’t been seen since.
His face is currently plastered across the internet and television screens as one of the most wanted men in the United Kingdom.
Whether he will be found remains to be seen.
If the information Damon received is correct, he had been siphoning cash from each drug deal for years.
I would imagine he is sitting on a Caribbean Island somewhere surrounded by women and flashing his cash. I hope he chokes on a piece of coconut.
The Level Boys still have their Wednesday night get-togethers in my home.
I provide them with cases of beer and unlimited pizza if Mrs. D. has the night off.
They watch soccer and talk about work. It’s wonderful hearing them together as friends.
The six of them make an incredible team, but since Evie was born, they’ve not undertaken any vigilante justice as far as I’m aware.
However, I’m not convinced I would be told if they did.
Harry knows my feelings about him trying to emulate an MI5 agent—he’s been instructed to remain behind a desk for now.
We married in March when Evie was six weeks old.
It had been a fresh spring day, the sun peeking through the clouds with the birds beginning to sing with the improving conditions.
We never told anyone, simply booking the registry office and pulling two random witnesses from the street.
The elderly couple had been delighted to assist us in our ceremony.
We wore casual clothing of battered jeans and black t-shirts.
With my trusty Converse on my feet, I walked down the aisle to the man I’ve loved all my life while he held our daughter to his chest.
Our vows were simple but perfect. Love, trust, and live together until one of us no longer walks on this earth.
Evie lies contently in her grandmother’s arms.
It’s wonderful having her close by again.
My mother has been missing from my life since I was nineteen.
She’s a new woman without the restrictions my father placed on her.
Her freedom is being enjoyed with new female friends and her family.
My brothers and Harrison ensure she wants for nothing.
In return, alongside Mrs. D., she keeps our homes functioning and provides on-tap childcare.
The two women are firm friends; every Friday they attend a bingo club in the city.
I am certain it’s because the caller reminds her of Bruce Willis.
“We will be going,” my mother says, passing me my daughter. I cuddle her fiercely and drop a kiss on her forehead.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I whisper. “Mummy loves you so much.”
Harrison comes to my side, and we both stare down at the little girl who completes our home.
He is an incredible father, supporting and loving both of us completely.
He places a matching kiss where mine was.
My mother retrieves her from my arms before walking out of the door with her.
“So,” he says, turning to me as it closes. “We have an empty apartment and hours to fill. What does my wife want to be doing?”
“You,” I answer bluntly, and he responds with a sexy smile.
“There is the small matter of our conversation from earlier. Your thoughts on sharing as a positive aspect within a relationship. It’s not something I would be prepared to consider.”
He takes my hand and leads me to our bedroom, pushing open the door.
We step through. “I promised you an ass you can’t sit on,” he says.
“I always keep my promises.” He guides me to the center of our room.
“Stand here. Don’t move.” My mouth dries in anticipation of what is to come.
He removes his suit jacket and hangs it meticulously in the wardrobe.
Then he unbuttons two further buttons on his shirt before slipping off his socks.
The crotch of his black suit trousers fills with his growing erection.
The sight makes my nipples harden. He is going to fuck me hard. The fire in his eyes tells me as much.
“You have been a naughty girl today,” he says quietly, as he approaches me from behind.
His hands slide around my middle and across my almost flat stomach.
Evie has left her mark, but my husband doesn’t care.
He adores the signs that I created his daughter.
That I am a mother. “You’re lucky I didn’t bend you across the table earlier and show you why sharing is not an option.”
I giggle, and he responds by nipping my neck firmly with his teeth.
His fingers move to my shoulders, slipping the thin straps of my summer dress down over my arms.
The blue cotton falls to the floor. He unhooks my bra, and it goes the same way.
I’m left with only my white lace panties, which are removed seconds later.
He strolls around my naked body in a circle, one finger remaining on my skin at all times.
It glides over my breasts, touching each nipple briefly, then across my back.
His eyes never leave mine; I turn my head to follow him as he moves.
His free hand goes to his pocket. He pulls the black satin mask I’m so familiar with out into the open, then secures it across my eyes.
As he moves in front of me, he takes both my wrists in one hand and ties them together with something soft I can’t see.
My body buzzes with excitement. I love when he takes control like this, when I can only feel him and hear him.
With my sight gone, every other sense is heightened.
“Walk forward,” he orders firmly. Our new bed has four tall posts, one on each corner.
“Hold on here.” I take firm hold of the hard wood.
“Lower,” he growls. I bend at the waist, moving my grip down.
His fingers run from the base of my neck and down my spine, stopping at my butt cheeks.
The room fills with soft music, classical and romantic.
“Lower,” he orders again then knocks my legs wider with his bare foot.
I sense him standing behind me. He presses himself against my ass, his cock rubbing against my skin through the fabric.
His palm moves between my legs, laying across my pussy.
He leans over me and drops a kiss onto my back before withdrawing his hand and slapping me hard.
I groan. “One,” he counts. “Bad girls get punished, then they get fucked.”
His touch disappears again before reappearing with a sting.
He slides one finger inside me. “Two, and hell you’re wet already, you dirty girl.”
The final blow comes, and I open my legs wider, knowing he will replace the pain with pleasure.
“Three,” he says gruffly, his arousal evident.
He lowers himself between my open legs facing my clit, his hands resting on my thighs.
I feel his mouth on me, gently exploring my lips.
I bend my knees slightly, wanting more. “You are the sweetest delicacy I’ve ever tasted,” he whispers.
“I could eat you all fucking day.” His laps become more urgent, his hands twisting around my legs and pulling me down onto his mouth. I let go of the pole and wobble.
“Hold on,” he barks. “I want you to come like this. Bent over, tied up, and sitting on my face.”
His teeth nip my clit as my legs buckle momentarily.
Unfazed, he keeps on sucking brutally. The sensations coursing through my body intensify—I curl my toes.
“Let go, Vi. Let those juices explode onto my tongue.”
My stomach clenches, and I erupt, flowing onto his lips.
He drinks down greedily, his nails digging into my flesh.
He wriggles out from underneath me, rises, and takes my bound arms, turning me to face him before removing the blindfold.
I blink at him as the dark gives way to the daylight.
He’s still dressed in his shirt and dress pants.
He gently unties what I now see is a robe belt from my wrists.
His hands cup my face, and he kisses me, a kiss that is both soft and domineering.
I drop my fingers to his cock, holding him firmly through the material.
As I undo his zipper and slip his pants down over his ass, I say, “Shall we make a start on creating that football team?”