Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sienna
The Present
“My apologies for the lack of refreshments at this funeral/wedding,” I escort the priest out.
“I’ll say a prayer for you both,” he tells me with a worried look.
Fabien and I need more than a prayer, but I smile and thank him, closing the door.
The unusual-colored sparkling diamonds on my finger catch my attention, and now that I’m alone, I examine my wedding set. As with my new studio, the rings couldn’t be more perfect.
“Hating everything about your rings?” Fabien appears, his wedding finger wrapped in fresh ink.
I reply by slipping off the rings and dropping them in the trash can.
Fabien advances, and my back hits the wall. His big, veiny hands cage me in. “You’re going to listen to me recite every word from those letters you were too stubborn to open—”
Ducking beneath his cage, I put some distance between us. “And while I’m sure your declarations are positively Shakespearean, hard pass.”
The doorbell rings, and Fabien’s mouth turns into a hard line. “I’m not expecting company.” He pulls up the security feed on his phone, and I sneak a peek.
“I am.” This time, I don’t try to hide my cat who got the canary smile. “That’s my client.”
“Your client?” Fabien repeats dumbly.
“Well, you didn’t think I was going to fuck you?” My eyebrows raise to the sky.
Fabien remains silent, but the look on his face says it all.
“Oh, you did?” I drawl, unlocking and opening the door.
“You don’t deal with ‘clients’ anymore,” he says through his teeth, slamming it shut and bracing his hand there.
“Being that I’m cash poor thanks to my current husband, I do. Move.”
His eyes are blue flames, causing an electric thrill to course throughout my body. “How much is this client paying? I’ll have Saint—”
“Five thousand. Seems that’s all I’ve ever been worth.” The words are hurled at him, and yet I’m the one left with a bitter taste in my mouth.
Fabien’s shoulders fall. “Sienna—”
“Move.” I give him a shove, but the mountain of a man doesn’t budge. “It’s either my client comes inside, or I go to his place,” I warn, and he drops his hand with a growl.
With a practiced smile, I open the door and greet the client, taking his hand into mine. “Sorry about the mix-up. Come in.”
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says with a charming Texas drawl. In his early fifties, he’s one of the better-looking clients; hence, why he was cast for this little performance.
Fabien grabs my arm, jerking me away from the client. “The only mix-up is my wife thinking she’s going to fuck another man in my house.”
“My house,” I correct him, poking my black manicured finger in the middle of his chest. “And the only mix-up is my husband thinking he has any say in my life. This way to my bedroom,” I tell the client, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs.
“Sienna, do you really expect me to let another man fuck you?” Fabien takes the stairs two at a time, beating me to the bedroom and blocking the door.
I click my tongue. “I don’t expect anything from you, current husband. That way, I’ll never be disappointed.”
“Get the fuck out,” Fabien barks at the client.
He holds up his hands. “The lady can speak for herself.”
“I’ve spoken. Move,” I tell Fabien, shooing him.
Fabien steps to the side, but I know that look all too well. The calm before the storm.
Everyone enters the bedroom, and I give it three seconds until Fabien tosses the client out on his ass.
One.
Two.
Fabien crosses the room and pours himself two fingers’ worth of whiskey from the wet bar.
Two and a half.
Striding across the room, Fabien drags a chair with him, positioning himself at the foot of the bed. “Proceed.”
“Didn’t ask for your permission.” My tone’s one of disinterest, but internally, I’m spiraling.
Proceed? As in fuck this man? Because I was not mentally prepared to have sex with anyone tonight.
And while Fabien watches?
He takes a sip of whiskey, his eyes never leaving mine.
Alright then, bluff called.
Fabien
The present
Another man is kissing my wife. This is neither the fantasy nor the reality I had in mind.
It takes all my restraint to keep my ass planted in this chair and not snap this man’s neck. But I understand Sienna’s game: She wants to torture me. The woman gave me her heart freely once, and I was a damn fool. So I’ll take my lumps, watch this fucker unzip my wife’s dress.
The black fabric slips to her ankles, those perfect tits nearly spilling out of her bra, her beautiful ass covered in a slip of a thong. Having been celibate for nearly a decade, I can’t blame my poor cock for leaking everywhere.
Hands that don’t belong to me palm her ass, giving it a rough squeeze.
Hands that do belong to me squeeze the glass tumbler of whiskey so hard it shatters.
They both glance my way.
“Is everything alright, current husband?” Sienna asks sweetly, stepping out of her dress.
I give the chards a toss, drying my hand on my pants.
Alright? Even my hard-on is pissed off. “Peachy.”
“Sweetest peach I’ve ever seen,” the fucker agrees, palming Sienna’s ass as he grinds his erection against her pussy.
The man’s finger slips inside Sienna’s thong, and I grip the chair handles so tightly, they snap off.
“Anything else you’re going to break?” Sienna calls to me with laughter in her voice as I give the broken furniture pieces a toss.
“The only one breaking anything at the moment is you and our marriage vows,” I say calmly, strolling over and getting myself a new glass of whiskey.
It’s that, or break what’s left of this chair over the man’s head.
“Oh!” Sienna squirms, clearly surprised by the man’s finger dipping inside her vagina.
With a deep breath, I stroll back to my seat, holding my glass with a much lighter grip. “That’s moving too fast,” I warn him. “Pull my wife’s panties down and play with her clit. She needs to be worked up nice and slow before any kind of penetration.”
Watching over the rim of my whiskey glass, the man does as instructed, and she steps out of the scrap of fabric, kicking it in my direction. “You have no idea what I need, current husband.”
Her dress is bunched around her waist, her bottom half now bare, and I groan long and low. “Fuck. Pussy’s just as pretty as I remembered.” I kick back the glass of whiskey and slam it on the table.
Sienna shudders, and I inwardly smile. Maybe she’s not in complete control after all.
“Baby, you’re wrong. I’ve always known exactly what you need. Strum my wife’s pretty pink clit with the pads of your fingers,” I order the man.
“With pleasure.” He begins moving his hand with way too much force.
“Nah-uh. Too hard. Featherlight touches.”
He slows down using the same aggressive pressure, and I growl. “Not slower; lighter.”
“Ignore him and listen to what I like,” Sienna says to her client, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him.
My vision spots shades of crimson, but I don’t dare make a move. If this is her version of making me crawl over broken glass, then I’ll sit here and bleed out.
“I know what you like better than you know yourself,” I remind her.
She breaks the kiss, staring me down. “Arrogant.”
“Guilty. Take off her bra,” I command. “Let me see those perfect tits.”
He does as I command, and the fabric drops to the floor.
My mouth waters at the sight. “Damn,” I murmur.
Sienna stands nude, save for her black heels.
“I like the boots better,” I comment, not that this view isn’t otherworldly.
“Didn’t ask,” Sienna snaps, crawling backward on the bed with her hand around the man’s tie, taking him with her.
They kiss, with him grinding his erection against her bare pussy.
My cock has never been more angrily turned on. “Do you still have them?” I call to her.
“Why are you still talking?” Sienna breaks the kiss, glaring at me.
“Do you?” I press.
She scoffs. “You’re delusional if you think I’d ever wear them for you.”
“So that’s a yes,” I tell her smugly.
“Yes.” Her moan isn’t for me, and yet my cock still twitches.
Texas has taken his own cock out while Sienna and I have been going back and forth. It’s immature, but the only consolation prize is knowing that I’m bigger than him.
He’s wrapping up in a condom, and without much finesse, he slides into home.
What should be my fucking home.
He proceeds to do the jackrabbit pounding routine, and I tsk. “Slow down. My girl likes long, deep strokes.” Actually, she likes her pussy eaten first, but he’s obviously not the man for the job.
“I’m not your girl.” Sienna glares at me, shoving the man off of her and climbing on top. With her black manicured fingers wrapped around his cock, she guides him inside.
Sienna’s back is now to me, and that won’t do. If she’s going to make me suffer, then she’s going to have to watch me do it.
I drag my chair to where I’m directly in front of her and sit, leaning forward. Close enough to touch her. Pretending my hands are shackled is the only thing that stops me from doing so.
Sienna freezes.
“Continue,” I tell her.
“Again, I didn’t ask for your permission.” Fire in her eyes, she arches her back as she grabs the man’s thighs and grinds forward, her beautiful tits bouncing on each forward thrust.
“Fuck, you’re still the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” I rasp.
“Did you use those same lines on your fiancée?” Sienna’s glare could freeze boiling water.
“Go ahead and play out your little revenge fantasy, and then we’ll talk,” I promise her.
“If it were revenge I’m after, you’d already be dead,” she informs me with the roll of her hips.
“How would you dispatch me? You’ve obviously given it a lot of thought. Given me a lot of thought.” I smile smugly, despite my heart having been torn into shreds when I believed that she loved Michele.
“Please. You don’t own any real estate in my mind,” she says dismissively.
“Really? Because you own a monopoly in mine.” I level with her. “Every time I jerked my cock in prison, I thought of you.”
A moan escapes her pouty lips, and I let out a harsh groan.
“That goddamn sound. The sexiest little moans and pants. Your fingernails running against the back of my neck. Your smell. The way your pussy tastes. Fuck, I used to come so hard, imagining my right hand was you.”
“That’s sad,” Sienna informs me, returning her attention to the man she’s fucking. But not before I saw the pang of longing in her eyes.
She’d never admit it, but she missed me too. I’d bet my life on it.
“Very sad, considering we could make it a reality if you weren’t so damn stubborn,” I continue.
“If you can’t stop talking, leave the room,” Sienna snaps.
“This isn’t the scene I had in mind,” Texas interjects.
The scene I have in mind is one of his dismembered corpse.
“I’m sorry,” Sienna apologies to him. “My husband can’t do anything right, and that includes being a cuckold.”
Despite the shitty circumstances, Sienna referring to me as her husband makes me grin.
“Current husband,” she corrects herself.
“Take the palm of your hand and rub my wife’s clit back and forth. She likes it fast,” I tell her useless fuck partner.
The man really is useless, because he can’t even do that right. He begins thumping her clit like a percussionist.
I rise from the chair and grab his hand by the wrist, moving it the way she likes.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sienna’s eyes are wide with shock.
“Making you come.”
“Sit down.” She grabs hold of my wrist, trying to yank it off her partner’s, but I don’t budge. “You haven’t been invited to join.”
“I’m not touching you,” I argue, moving the man’s hand faster and faster, back and forth. “Fuck, you’re so wet. I can smell it from here.” I groan. “Is this for me?”
Sienna sucks in a sharp breath, digging her pretty nails into my wrist. “Never.”
I click my tongue. “Never’s a long time. How many words are you gonna eat?”
“I may have to eat a few words, but you’ll never have the privilege of eating me,” Sienna promises.
I laugh darkly. “Baby, I’d already have made you come twice if my tongue were on this pretty clit.”
“Conceited.”
“Guilty.” I move the man’s hand while I watch Sienna grind her clit back and forth. Flushed face, erect nipples, her movements becoming erratic. “You’re so close,” I murmur. “Show me how hard you come for my voice. For my command. For me.”
“This isn’t for you,” she cries as her orgasm rocks her beautiful body, her head falling back with her mouth open on a silent scream.
Sienna’s chest heaves, and I wait for her to open her eyes before I tell her, “Next time, you say my name when you come.”
I storm out of the room. It’s that, or kill Texas with his cock still inside Sienna, and I can’t traumatize her like that.
Hate the rules, but this is her game, and I have to let it play out.
Now in the hallway, I listen as the man finishes inside my wife. An eerie calm washes over me as I slip my hands inside my pockets and wait.
The man appears fully dressed a few minutes later, stopping short when he notices me. “Let me walk you out,” I tell him in a friendly tone, ushering him downstairs and to the front door, my ice pick hidden behind my back.
“Not going to lie, I was expecting more of a traditional cuckold scene, but hey, the hot wife/marriage in crisis does it for me too. Thanks for being a good sport.”
He goes to walk out the door, and that’s when my left arm wraps around his neck. Jamming the spike of my ice pick inside his right ear canal, I press until I’ve busted his ear drum, hitting brain matter.
His body crumbles to the floor.
“You’re welcome.”