She hasn’t forgotten my promise to fuck her on these counters at all; she’s been wanting it. And now that she’s a hundred percent mine, more mine than she ever was his, that’s just what I’m about to do.
She’s in yoga clothes and I’m in sweats. I don’t typically leave the house dressed like this but when you know you’re gonna be on a plane for half a day, you wanna be comfortable. These clothes are coming off the both of us right now.
I carefully pull her hair tie out and watch her curls spring free to cascade down around her shoulders. I lift the hem of her hoodie and pull it along with the tank top underneath over her head together. She’s not wearing a bra.
Our eyes are locked. One of our typical staring contests. Fuck, she’s sexy. She shimmies the yoga pants and her panties down to her knees. After I pull them and her sneakers and socks off, I kick my own shoes off. Violet pulls my hoodie up over my head and a moment later, I’m divesting myself of everything I’ve got on south of my waist while her hands roam my shoulders and my chest. I jerk her hips toward me and her head rolls back briefly as I grab the back of her neck and pull her mouth to mine. She cries into my mouth as I slam my hips forward and fill her.
Yeah. Fucking her on this kitchen counter. Fucking my wife on this pink marble.
My wife.
I’ll be editing the video that’s being recorded of this so that all the fuck-wad sees is the expression of ecstasy on her face and the back of my head, knowing that I’m fucking my wife.
Mine.
After fucking Violet on the counter, we take a shower, order in some food, and then fuck again in our bed before she falls asleep.
***
Tony has been driving back and forth to the beach house to feed and water that piece-of-shit vermin in my basement.
There’s been a doctor in once a week to check on Fuckface, too, because I’m not ready for him to be dead yet and the injuries that I’ve inflicted on him have needed medical attention.
Before we left, I moved him to the cistern while getting Tony to handle making a more secure cell for him. Clearly by the money and the trouble I’ve spent putting that in, I’m not ready to be done punishing him yet.
He hasn’t been physically injured by anyone in almost three weeks. That streak ends the day after tomorrow when I drive out there.
She wants to go visit her parents tomorrow for a big family welcome home dinner with aunts, uncles, and cousins and then she’s got a day to rest up before going back to work with plans to spend next weekend in Tillamook. She’s excited about going antiquing and treasure hunting to find things to fill our second home with. And I love that.
No, I don’t like that I’ve had to fib to her about the shit-stain in the basement, but I certainly don’t want her down there.
It’s not my goal to have a marriage built on secrets, but this one secret is a necessity. And it’s for the greater good. He gets to suffer, which is good for me, and she doesn’t have to worry about him. At all. Better for her.
He was a mess the few days we stayed there after I got jumped. I made sure he knew she was under the same roof. He tried to plug his ears after I played, on a loop, the conversations she and I had where she didn’t want to waste any time thinking about him. I beat the shit out of him and then went back to bed and fucked her, recording the sounds of her whimpers and declarations that I’m the best she’s ever had, which has come in handy played for him occasionally on a loop.
I enjoyed every minute of our honeymoon, but now that we’re back, now that we’ve christened the countertop, I’m feeling the itch. Itching to go back there, let him know that she’s got my name, let him see how happy she is, make him feel a little more hurt, then I might be ready to decide how it ends. Maybe.
The fuckface hasn’t yet paid enough. For what he did to me. More than that, for what he did to her for all that time. Maybe I’ll make him suffer for the same length of their relationship. We’ll see.
5
Violet
A Little More than A Week Later
Tillamook
I’m in the kitchen at the beach house, staring out the window at my insanely hot husband who is outside in jeans and a hoodie, using a chainsaw on some logs so we can have a fire by the water tonight.
It might be crazy to have campfires by the ocean in December when it’s cold out, but it’s something I’m craving and it seems to be in Killian’s nature to cater to my wants. I feel very lucky.