Seconds, minutes, and hours I have tolerated. I will continue to play this role until retribution arrives. I’ll be the good, dutiful wife who flirts with her husband.
“There’s that look of wildness in your eyes.” Galen cups my cheeks. “It only comes out for me,” he boasts.
He’s right. Princesses are slightly off; we’re taught to be persuasive, to disregard normalcy, to seek out rarities, to have our ears always listening but our smiles smooth and welcoming.
But then again, we are also taught to bend a knee.
Why should my knees bend? I have royal blood, just like my husband. He can press his knees into the soil and kiss my shoes! Shoes that have stepped on more battlefields than his!
That will never happen.
I know. Women have dreams. Men have crowns and freedom.
I can’t help but wonder which reality is more forgiving?
“Selene,” Galen grunts as his eyes roll back, his clean-shaven chin tipping up. If we were sweet and loving, I’d bend down and kiss his jawline. “If your muscles clench any tighter, my dick is going to snap in half,” he chuckles deliriously.
Relax. Your pain is giving your prick of a husband more pleasure.
Am I scorned? Yes, you would be if you were in my shoes.
And my shoes? They are so tight that they only cause pain. Each step I take is meant to involve some form of suffering.
A lady’s plight, that’s what they call it.
Women are taught to endure pain; men are taught to hunt it down and end it.
They raised me to be like this, absolutely mad, seething with anger, yet that emotional instability makes me feel. That will be my undoing.
“Learn how to handle me, husband. Otherwise, I’ll find a replacement.” I roll my hips.
Oh, sex with him is good, I admit it.
Smack!His palm stings my ass. “I would love nothing more than to see you try.” His grin’s as wicked as a snake reeling back before it bites. Mesmerizing.
Did I mention my husband is off-kilter as well? Our poor children have no chance.
Let’s just say our marriage is unconventional, but somehow it works. Usually, that’s only when his cock is inside of me. It’s a rare time Galen stops talking and just takes what I give him.
I’m going to win this round. Yes, round, because everything—every smile, frown, banter, kiss, hookup—is a game.
In the end, it’s me versus him.
“I’m close,” I purr as I press my palms on his hard chest. His muscles flex under my touch. He’s on the edge.
Yes, right there. That’s it!My head tips back as my climax hits me. My long black hair brushes against my ass as Galen joins me, grunting and cursing like the brute he is but often hides.
My body begs me to fall limp, exhausted from the pleasure.Okay, he can leave now.Finally, I collapse against him. We only talk if we bicker; it’s fuel for our sexual banter. It’s what got us into bed in the first place.
This is a marriage of arrangement, not of partnership. I have to guard my heart.
If I show it to Galen, he’ll destroy it.
Do I hate my husband? Yes.
Do I hate him all the time? Debatable.
Do I want to fall in love with him and have a happy marriage? I don’t know. Only one person ever hugged me, and he’s dead.
