She folds into it like a doll. Limbs loose, body floating for a second before sinking just enough. I‘d love to fuck her like this. Pushing her head underwater just as she is about to climax.
I want to watch her scream underwater. The bubbles that will leave her mouth. I sit there washing her slowly, fantasizing about how she would look as I pull her from under the water, as she releases her cum for me.
Methodical in my movements, I clean her from head to toe. Against what my cock would prefer, I continue mechanically. Neck, shoulders, arms. Between her legs. I don’t linger. This isn’t about sex now. This is about care. About control. About making sure she’s still here.
I press a towel to her chest and lift her again.
She moans a little in her sleep, barely audible.
That’s good. At least I didn’t fuck her to death. Yet.
In the bedroom, I pull back the sheets with one hand and lay her down with the other. Her head hits the pillow, hair spreading out like a fan on white cotton.
She doesn’t move.
I dry her off, going slowly over her thighs and her back. I didn’t wash her hair. I’m too tired to. Checking on her cut between her breasts, I’m happy to see the scab is scarring. Then I wrap the blanket around her, tight.
I sit on the edge of the bed and look at her. She gave me everything tonight. But whatever it was, we’re both too far gone now.
I push the hair off her face and run my thumb across her cheekbone.
“You’re alright, darling,” I say, even though she can’t hear me. “I’ve got you.”
I kill the lights, strip off my shirt, and climb in next to her. She stays out the whole time, and for once, I stay still. Struggling to fall asleep, my thoughts bleed into last night, when I finally found Douglass Huntington-Russell.
Hayden Herron
The Evening Prior
I pull up and park right at the front steps, throwing my cigarette out of the window and slamming my car door shut with more force than necessary when I finally step out. The Estate is massive, and it’s a shame it's occupied by a man whosedays are numbered. It doesn’t belong to him; it belongs to my wife, and today is another day in the series of me securing it for her.
The rose bushes that cover the vast front of the estate are cold, not in bloom, and covered in dew drops.
Everything about this place, the gates, the crest above the door, the marble underfoot, belongs to her. Douglass Huntington-Russell is merely a parasite feeding off an empire he lost his claim to long ago.
Two guardsmen are at the front entrance, and I walk past them like they’re made of air. One of them reaches for his earpiece and murmurs something, but I’m already inside. I wouldn’t think twice about putting them down. I’m on a mission that I’d like to finish quickly because my woman is waiting in bed for me, and I don’t want to waste a spare second of my time away from her.
I know this estate like the back of my hand. I find him where I expected, in the drawing room, feet up, sipping a whiskey neat, a smirk locked in place, off in the distance.
His head shoots up, and he immediately stands, looking nervous. I first met him at my initiation and found him to be the more annoying of the more senior twin Huntington-Russells. Henri and Douglass were an inseparable pair. Henri was the brain of the two, with Douglass risking the family Estate frequently and conning any ear he could bend.
“Hayden,” he says, voice casual. “Surprised to see you here. You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”
He’s not unfamiliar with my random visits. The Brotherhood liked to use me to check up on the Huntington-Russell brothers, considering the proximity I already had from the greater assignment I’d received.
“And you’ve always liked to take things that didn’t belong to you,” I say, knowing he’s had the Brotherhood cleanup multiple attempts at extortion and various other pretty lowball crimes he’s committed. His behavior can be shocking, considering the family's wealth.
He sits up straighter. “Is that why you’re here? Upset the Brotherhood again, did I?”
His response gives me pause. I assumed he had heard something regarding his niece and me by now. I was careful, but not too careful. I wanted it to reach him.
“Look, I’ve contested the will already,” he says with a bitter laugh. “Tell me, why are you so involved in Martine’s affairs? Who knows where that supposed niece of mine ran off to anyway?” He waves his hand.
Douglass is too slippery a bastard to believe his words so easily. I know he wants to hurt my wife. I don’t need to hear him say it outright; I just need to see what information I can glean from in between his lies.
I take a step forward, calm. Controlled. “I know you’ll be out of here soon. I’m not here about that.”
He looks at me, confused at the challenge in my words. Stumped at what other alternative I could be here for. I take another step through the large room. The estate was always beautiful. The long drapes sway slightly from the double doors to the terrace he has left open. The large chandelier casts a warm glow over a relatively cold room. I can smell a cigar in the air and assume he must have just been on the terrace smoking one.
