“Hello, Miss Bedford. Please, have a seat.”
“It’s Mrs. Sinclair, as I know that you know. I was surprised to receive your invitation for today. Surely, there’s nothing you’d like to discuss with me without my husband present. Speaking of Henry, I haven’t seen him today. You don’t happen to know anything about why, do you?” I adjust my gloves and keep my back rigidly straight, every inch of the society woman I’m expected to be. Even if I’m not good enough for Henry Sinclair’s son, I’ll not cower in the face of such an abuser.
“I don’t waste much time on my weakling of a son, so I’m not sure why you think I would have had any contact with him today. And I won’t be wasting any time on you, either. You’re getting an abortion, signing an affidavit that your marriage to Henry was based on fraudulent grounds, and leaving the country.” He reaches for a cigar from the humidor on his desk and lights it, puffing slowly and savoring the fine tobacco.
“You know, if the two of you had left well enough alone, you could have had what you wanted. My spineless son could have had you in the countryside, barefoot and pregnant with another of a litter of bastards. He could have come to see you between work trips, paid for your little mistakes’ educations, and enjoyed whatever golden nectar you apparently leak from that cunt of yours.”
His face reddens as he coughs.
“As it stands, now the two of you have forced my hand. It’s only—”
Cough.
“Out of the goodness—”
This time, he can’t stop coughing. As he grabs for his throat, I take a moment to enjoy his bulging eyes, desperately searching for a way out of his impending fate. He can feel his throat closing, though, and I revel in his panic. I know I only have a few moments to say my piece.
“Ah, yes. Few people know about your peanut allergy. But I do. I know many things. I know you’re about to die. I know what you’ve been doing to Henry his entire life, beating and torturing him. I also know I’m going to have a litter of his babies, as you say, and you won’t be around to stop us from being happy. We’re going to erase every bit of your legacy from this company, this house, and this family. Fuck you. Enjoy burning in hell.”
The rage in his eyes, even as he struggles for last breaths that will never come, is savory. The next time I’m sad, I’ll think about removing this fucker from the planet so that he can never hurt my Henry again. Finally, the light fades from his eyes, and he slumps forward onto his desk, silent. No more threatening my husband…mychild.Good riddance.
The urge to chop off his pinky finger and deliver it back to my Henry, signet ring and all, is overwhelming. I want todestroyhim, chop him into a million pieces, and string his intestines around his neck to represent what an absoluteshitheadhe’s been for every moment that I’ve known him. I want to make himbleed, even as dead as he already is, and watch his lifeblood drip beneath him onto the floor.
Alas, after Mrs. McDaniel made an offhand comment about how excited she was to be able to serve her favorite caramelized peanuts since Mr. Sinclair Sr. hadn’t attended our meeting, I knew I had the perfect, bloodless murder weapon at my disposal.Henry Sr. didn’t like people knowing about his allergy, believing it to be a sign of weakness, but told anyone who would listen how much he hated peanuts. If he had been a little less secretive about his deadly allergy, it would have been harder for me to hide powdered peanuts in a cigar. As it is, there’s no way I could have known…nor did anyone else.
Nothing but a tragic accident, nothing for a coroner to investigate, no trail. My urge to bathe in his blood will have to go unfulfilled. It would be far too messy and complicate things. I can’t help myself from wrenching the signet ring off his finger, though. I have to have something to give my husband as proof of my gift.
By the time I reach the penthouse, the sunset streams through the blinds, painting the bedroom in purple hues and dappling beautifully across the muscled, bare back of my love. He’s healing well, and the doctor cleared him for sex a few days ago, provided he doesn't strain himself too much. I’ve been rocking his world on top as a result, and it’s been a delightful change of pace from the dominant caveman he’s been since our wedding and my subsequent impregnation. He may have forgotten the spitfire he picked up in the bar that fateful night, but not for long. Tonight’s the perfect night to remind him.
“Mmm, yes, there’s my good boy. Hello, Sleeping Beauty.”
Gorgeous smoky gray eyes slowly open, blinking up at me as his cock comes alive in my hand. Straddling Henry’s thighs, I enjoy the warm touch of his rough hands as they trail over my hips and waist, stopping to weigh my heavy breasts. I spit again into my hand, working him over rougher now, his hips bucking, trying to control my pace and get the upper hand.
As he wakes, he finally sees that his cock isn’t the only one between us. My strap-on is thick and veiny, lying heavily on his thigh. If only I could transfer my wetness to the strap, it would be just as hard as Henry is.
“Blanche? What are you—”
I interrupt him with my hands in his hair and my mouth on his, owning him with my tongue and pulling back to bite his lips roughly. Ineedto show him that I own him. That I can take care of him and his problems just like he takes care of mine. We’re partners in every way, and the power I felt watching his father’s life end at my hand floods back into my bloodstream all at once. My clitthrobswith the feeling, and I cock my head at Henry’s bewildered glance.
“Hi, baby,” I coo. “How are you feeling?”
“Um, I’m okay, I think.” He tries to sit up, but I push him back down and leave my palm pressing into the center of his chest.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re not going anywhere. Tonight’s very special, my love.”
I lube up both hands, noting how even trapped underneath me, seeing the large strap-on that heknowsis destined to be in his ass, he’s hard as a rock and leaking pre-cum. We both know he’s strong enough to buck me off if he wanted to, even injured, but instead, he whimpers as I run a sharp fingernail under the head of his cock in warning.
My husband is just as much of a slut as I am.
“Are you going to be a good boy for me? I know you like a little pain, darling, but if you act like a brat, I’ll give you more than you want.”
“I don’t know what—what’s that?”
He’s finally noticed the new jewelry on my left hand. It’s a little large, so I’m wearing it on my thumb for now. Playing with his tight hole, I slowly work one finger inside while I rub the cool metal of my prize over the slit of his cock.
“You know what this is, baby. You’re a smart boy. It’s your father’s signet ring. It’s probably split your lip or cut your cheek countless times as he punched you, hasn’t it? Now it’s just for your pleasure, though. I promise. Unless you’re a brat.”
I continue to circle his cockhead with the ring as I insert another finger into his ass, pausing only to add more lube in preparation for a third.
