Page 8

My father groomed me for a different life of killing. It’s a lifestyle I chose to walk away from and leave behind the legacy of my family. I’ll make an exception though if I could ensure my wife’s safety and peace of mind. I might not be a serial killer, but I will end the life of someone who tries to bring harm to my wife. I’ll never accept her being hurt ever again. The scars across her skin are a testament to my greatest failure, and even if she doesn’t see it as my fault I can’t help thinking how much easier our lives would be if I simply shot Alastair to begin with.
When I can’t take the silence anymore I pull over. The motion is a little quicker than I anticipate, and Jo gasps sharply at the last minute swerve.
“Vinny-” she begins, and I reach across the car to grab her face. I’m used to Jo talking back when she disagrees, and I like that she always wants to voice what she’s thinking. I hate that returning back to our roots is sucking the life out of her.
I squeeze her cheeks, not hard enough to truly hurt but enough to get her attention. With the car idling, I can focus solely on her. “Wrong answer.”
Her lashes flutter, and I want to see her slip into the role she loves. We might be a power couple at the club we own in Colorado, and stand as a united front here, but beneath it all we have our own kinks and desires just like anyone else. We built our whole lives off of that. And I’ll do whatever it takes to remind Jo that nothing changes even though we’re here. We’ll get this shit dealt with and be back in Colorado soon, preferably before the end of the month.
We just don’t want the drama following us back to the Rocky Mountains.
Jo licks her lips, taking her sweet time responding to me. “Master, I don’t know that I can shut off my brain right now.”
I stroke her cheek with my thumb. Sometimes it’s Master, other times she simply calls me Husband. It’s an easy identifier for whether she’s wanting love or punishment, but something nags at the back of my mind that she’s wanting punishment right this second.
She didn’tdoanything wrong.
She never did.
“I’ll shut it off for you, Trauma,” I say, already leaning away. Her eyes are half lidded as she studies me, those blue orbs almost glowing in the late afternoon sun when I use herfavoritenickname. Her glowing blue eyes contrast the silver dermals in her dimple piercings, and it’s the only body modification she likes about herself. The piercings make her more confident, and I like anything that gives my wife strength.
I’m out of the car before she can protest. I don’t intend on punishing her right this second, but it’ll come up probably before the night is out. We’re twisted together, and we both enjoy the game of pain. That existed before Jo gained her scars, even if we were just kids having fun experimenting back then. The kinks evolved for us when she healed and we both needed a way to combine our pain and pleasure.
Her door is open when I round the car, and a wide field is at my back when I crouch in front of her. It’s practically silent out here, so the only things I’m going to hear are Jo’s cries and if another car happens by. Frankly I don’t give a shit if someone sees me kneeling before her. I’m taking care of my wife, and they can fuck off if they have a problem with that.
“Master-”
I grab her legs, and she helps me pivot her with a little squeal. She decided on this gauzy outfit that’s billowy around her legs and covers all the scars, but in my opinion it looks like a huge pain to deal with in this humidity. It doesn’t stop me from kneeling at her feet, shoving the skirt up her legs as high as it’ll go and peering up at her pussy.
Bare. A touch swollen where her lips have puffed up in anticipation, and reaching out I trail a finger over her pussy lips and earn a gasp. I’m rarely this tender with her, but today is a special occasion.
There are scars that skate down her body, long vertical lines that have faded to white marks. They aren’t perfectly straight since they were cut with a crude knife by someone with self-taught butchering experience, so it created a network of uneven scars all across her skin.
Jo hates it. I’m not a fan but I can see past them, down to the woman I love.
Without a word, I lean in and drag the flat of my tongue across her center. She shudders and I feel the tension in her body go slack, her hips arching a little bit to get my tongue in deeper. I bunch up the skirt in one hand while I lick her pussy with long strokes, freeing one hand so I can draw lazy circles around her hole.
“I could fuck you out here,” I mutter, letting my breath dance across her skin. “And make you scream to the fields for mercy.”
Jo whimpers. “Pain?”
“Not out here,” I tell her instantly, my hand tightening on the fabric. “That’s for us alone.”
I love Jo’s pain. I thrive on it, and she offers it to me freely. Me, and only me. No one else can be given that much trust without the chance of her getting hurt, and she won't risk that again.
Jo whimpers when I start to fuck her with my tongue, letting my finger travel down her body to trace along her asshole. I love when she doesn’t wear anything under her clothes, and that’s one of the kinks we keep up with almost all of the time. Today was no exception, and even though I hated that she had to talk to those assholes alone, I liked the idea of thinking about her bare pussy while those interviews dragged on and on.
When I slide my hand up again and insert one finger in a single push into her pussy down to the knuckle, she rocks against my face with a cry. She’s getting close, and I’d bet she’s as wound up as I am. We’ll be staying in tonight to fuck our frustrations out, but this should tide her over until then.
“Good girl,” I growl at her, leaning back just enough to speak the words. “Let me taste you, darling. I want your orgasm on my tongue.”
She doesn't seem to care, rocking on my face. I go back to fucking her with my tongue and one finger before adding a second, and I know this won’t take long. I can’t tire her out too much or there won’t be a follow up back at Emeric’s.
Distantly, I hear a vehicle approaching. With her door open someone driving the opposite way can’t see much, but someone approaching from behind will see me crouched at her door and it won’t take long to figure out what’s going on. Jo tenses when she hears it too, and I remove my fingers to grip her leg.
“V-Vinny-”
“Cum for me,” I demand, and I know the spike of unease and fear will help her tumble over the edge. Like my good girl, she can’t help but obey when she’s right there on the edge, and I lap at her when she screams, her voice echoing in the near emptiness around us.