The Marriage Dare

But after everything she and her family have done to me, I need closure. And I’m going to have it.

I take out my phone and browse the boutiques downstairs, finding some sexy lingerie and nightgowns that I order and make sure it’s expedited. The clothes should be delivered to the room within fifteen minutes. I intentionally choose things that are sexy and that will remind Monica of everything that we are not doing in my bed right now. I wanted to infiltrate her brain, to the point where she can’t resist sliding her hands into her panties thinking about it.

To be honest, I don’t want her to touch herself without me there to watch. Perhaps I’ll suggest that tomorrow when she asks again. Because she will ask again. And I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to say no, even if I need to be.

Taking my drink, I step out onto the balcony for some fresh air. The Las Vegas air is warm tonight, which isn’t uncommon. But tonight it also feels refreshing to me. I’m not used to this level of obsession in my thoughts. A new project is good, something that’s going to throw me off my game is not.

I shouldn’t care if Monica is happy, but I do. I shouldn’t care if she is comfortable, but all I want to do is go back inside and make sure that she’s taken a shower and is wrapped in the most comfortable robe and pajamas that I can get my hands on. I want to lay her on her back and explore her body far more thoroughly than I had the chance to tonight. The way she tastes, I want to lick her skin. I want to taste every inch of her. I want her to beg me to explore her with my mouth. I want to spend the whole night making her writhe in pleasure, but never letting her come.

As I look out over the city, I find myself thinking of ways that I can make her happy. Things that we can do together that will make her feel better about what’s happened to her. The thought startles me. I shouldn’t care about that. I can feel my decades old desire for her creeping back in. I can feel it making me soft.

In that space, there’s suddenly anger. Deep, dark, and furious. I got over this years ago. I need to hate her, even if I told her that I didn’t. She was my tormentor. She bullied me. Her family shattered mine, and nearly annihilated it. It doesn’t matter that our situations are reversed now, nothing can make up for that. Ever.

But all I can think about right now is her lips. How soft they were. How she tasted, and how she sounded in her pleasure. And beyond that, the sheer and utter desperation in her eyes when she lost her hand. She was right when she told me that I did not know what she has gone through. I don’t. But I will.

In the end it doesn’t matter. There is a debt that is owed between us, and she will be the one to pay it. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll figure it out. After all, we have the rest of our lives to figure it out. I have a plan.

I’m going to break her down.

I’m going to make her pay her debt.

And then I’m going to make her love me.

And in my mind, though I can’t fully admit to myself yet, I know that after that, I’m going to make her mine forever.

Monica’s desperation and fear flash into my head again, and I feel something that I haven’t felt in a very long time. Empathy. I know exactly what she was feeling in those moments, because I felt it too. For the second time this evening, I feel myself swept away in the grip of memory.

I was seventeen the last time that I saw Monica. I was working at the auto repair shop where I spent most of my time finishing school, and where my obsession with poker first began. I was running myself ragged, trying to keep my grades up in school while working a full-time job. We had already lost our house to the Blast Dynasty at that point. It was up to me to make rent on the tiny apartment that my parents and I were living in, or else we would be once again living in our car. All three of us.

Which would have meant that I would end up sleeping in the park, likely on a bench. The weather was nice that time of year, so it wouldn’t have been entirely unpleasant, but I had already been discovered sleeping outside by one too many classmates for me to want to do that again. So I made it work. I fit in my homework in the down times at the garage, coming in early to work hours before school, cleaning and organizing, and pulling the late shifts afterwards so I could have as many hours as possible.