THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance

by Elena Monroe

  She was trying to save me when she had it right the first time—get out while you can.

  Run far away.

  Forget I exist.

  Tell yourself you’re lucky.

  I’m never going to be the guy she knew before, and I wasn’t going to be her definition of a good husband now.

  Ignoring all her efforts wasn’t hard to do when I have all day, every day to myself and an endless bank account to fund my every whim. I treaded over to the bar in the corner and reached towards the top shelf to a bottle of Hennessy that I had been saving for a real emergency because once it’s cracked, I plan to empty it like I do with all my bottles.

  Eve’s innocent voice was an illusion when I heard her say, “Figured we’d have a little date night in…” I could read between the lines of her desperation.

  None of it was a turn on when she was still straddling the line of demure royal and the Eve I know.

  Rounding the couch, I set the bottle down gingerly like it was a fragile infant and ripped off my black jean jacket as well as the hoodie underneath. I let my tall frame fall to the plushness with the bottle back in my grasp, and my blonde hair sticking up in every direction.

  “Awful night. Rain check.” It was my new favorite saying that I was overusing and didn’t care if she didn’t like it.

  Every time she made dinner or was waiting for me to notice her barely there lingerie, I always tossed her a rain check like the asshole I am.

  Noticing the split lip, she rushed over to the couch with this worried look that made my eyes want to roll back enough to examine my own fucked up mind as to why I found her caring for me so uncomfortable.

  Her soft hands held my jaw on either side and forced my face in her direction. “What happened to you there tonight? Who did this, Bowey?”

  She doesn’t know everything about the Clave, and I don’t know everything about Denmark yet.

  Fair is fair.

  Twisting out of her grip, I pushed the bottle to my lips, causing a sting against the open wound. Wincing silently, I pushed through the pain like anything else, and she handed me a pair of chopsticks like it would cure my ailments if I just dove into the disgusting Chinese food.

  She wasn’t fooling me; she didn’t eat any more than I did. Only, my head wasn’t in the toilet forcing the little I did eat to come back up. I could hear her in the middle of the night quietly getting rid of whatever she consumed.

  An after effect of Denmark, I’m sure.

  My inability to eat came from a long life of having my appetite stolen from me while I took blow after blow of unfortunate events.

  Shaking the bottle in the air, I let it be my response.

  She sat so still on the couch, facing me, legs twisted together when she finally asked the question burning a hole in her soul. It was another try at getting me to give her another bone to hide away. “Have you kissed anyone but me?”

  The answer should be obvious to anyone living with me this long, at least it should be. Especially to someone with the experience I knew Eve wouldn’t sacrifice. Not even for me. She loved experiences and collected them throughout our whole childhood.

  I let my own collection of firsts halt the second she left LA.

  The last and only time I kissed someone and meant it was when her butterfly died. I pressed my lips to hers when she fell asleep in my arms after crying for hours. I wanted to steal my way to a first without any impending fear like normal, and she was much less intimidating while asleep.

  At least I always told myself she was asleep...

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind she had collected first kisses, first boyfriends, first everything when it came to mankind and human interaction.

  I was Famine, slowly starving her of what she does best.

  “I’ve seen the girls you’ve been surrounded by...” She was letting her jealousy show and my glare halted all fun, swallowing it whole.

  “Not with women, is that what you want to hear, Eve? That I haven’t broken for anyone but you in any way? That I suffer only because of you? Or that I have more experience with men, and now I feel royally screwed because none of that applies to you?”

  I felt the sting in the back of my eyes causing a splash of moisture that I knew would be impossible. All the ways I kill myself every day dry those up.

  She sat up taller, the way my raised voice always had her falling back into princess mode like some PTSD trigger. “I didn’t know... I’m sorry. Do you think you might be gay?”

  She wasn’t hiding the disappointment in the word that was wrapped around her stale breath as she awaited my answer.

  I turned to face her, assessing every inch of her smooth skin for her reaction when she turned it all off. Miss Princess was numb and comfortable in being this lesser version of herself the same way I was. “No. I thought I was, but I tested that theory already. Apparently, my dick only likes you...”

  Her cheeks flushed, and her tongue licked her lips in the most innocent way I had ever seen. “So, you haven’t tried anything with women? Tested another theory?”

  Leaning into her, my fingers trailed down her exposed neck before making their way to trace her lips as I spoke, “Have you? I saw how you so willingly gave up these lips, my lips, to Abigail.” She stammered around sounds and I knew it only took one touch to set her off. “Seem awfully concerned with my sexual history when I don’t know who’s been between your legs.”

  I watched her throat swallow, and I could see the nervous energy shift right into arousal even at the mention of anything sexual. Her chest rising and falling more quickly had my dick jumping against the zipper of my pants without warning.

  “I saved myself for you, what really matters: my virginity, Bowey. I wouldn’t collect firsts with you just to give that one away so easily. It was always meant for you.”

  Standing up, I shook off the attention she was bringing to my crotch. “Well, I didn’t ask for it and I don’t plan on breaking for you, Princess, so if you need my permission to get off elsewhere: here it is.”

  I had to escape, find a cold, dark place to let my emotions die. Hot on my heels as I headed for the stairs, Eve was following me. She kept talking through this even though I clearly didn’t want to. “I don’t want permission to fuck other guys. I want permission to touch my husband.”

  That name along with her beloved Bowey made me cringe.

  “Why are you following me?” Still trudging up the stairs, I kept my eyes staring forward.

  “I’m not done talking about this, Bowey.” She sounded vulnerable and desperate again, making me want to give her everything, but I couldn’t—not without strings.

  Ignoring her pleas, I walked into my bathroom and pulled my shirt off, feeling her eyes eat up every inch of me. I turned around, tossing it on the floor before twisting the knob for the hot water of my shower. The steam filled up the bathroom quickly, and I watched her wiggle out of her silk shorts with the ruffles that made her look like Snow White before the bad shit happened.

  “What are you doing? This is a private room.”

  “I’m showering with my husband. Problem? It’s not touching, kissing, sex—it’s showering.” Her tone left a lot to be desired when she lost the melody of her princess mode.

  She didn’t realize it, but princess mode was just foreplay. This tone was coming from the real Eve, my Eve, and she had always been the one dragging me into loving her even if I didn’t want myself to feel that way now for her own sake.

  The real Eve had me by the balls.

  Watching her remove her tank top over her head, I saw her shirtless the way I had been since she moved in. It’s hard to avoid when she’s less than shy.

  Stepping closer to me, her hands found my belt, undoing it with a minimal amount of grace. Eve was horny, and she was over being polite about it.

  Imagine waiting until this moment to finally have sex and be turned down.

  Imagine courting this girl for a year and keeping your dick in check.

 
Grabbing her hands with too much force, I stopped her from unzipping my jeans when I felt her fingers dance against my crotch. “Please.” It came out strained and couldn’t even bring myself to look at her directly.

  “We’ve seen each other come already, Bowey. One shower isn’t going to break us...” I could hear the pain in her voice, but I was so desensitized and detached, I didn’t know how to fix it.

  Fixing it any way but how she was asking me to.

  “I can’t, Eve. I just can’t. Please understand.” I was begging when I didn’t even ask permission or apologize. I felt like I skipped some steps on my sad journey.

  “Can’t we try? For me, Bowey? We can go slow. We can just touch ourselves again.”

  I felt defeated by her eyes soaked in tears and her shaking hands still on my undone jeans. I gave into a girl I used to imagine kissing one day only to lose her, then finally have her return to do just that—kiss.

  One kiss with the love of your life isn’t just a kiss. It’s a promise to own parts of you.

  It’s a fire sale and everything has to go.

  “Shower. That’s it, Eve. I mean it. Innocent.” I knew I was being callous, but I was willing to do anything but what she wanted.

  I wanted to glaze over the trying to make it work stage and slip right into silent contempt.

  “It wasn’t innocent even when we were kids, Bowey. We were one hormone short of doing bad things before we were old enough to be doing them.” She bit her lip and forced me to remember exactly how long I’ve been sporting blue balls.

  Not waiting for her, I pushed my jeans down, letting myself fall out of my boxer briefs. Feeling the same kind of exposure I felt when I was younger, I stepped into the shower quickly while cupping myself.

  Eve was less shy, her body on full display and perfectly groomed in the way you’d think was a standard for whatever brainwashing they did to her.

  Catching myself staring at her body, tracing her with my eyes, I looked away with a warmth in my cheeks. “I’m your fiancé, Bowey, you can look. You can touch too...”

  Standing under the shower head, I let the water run down my body, still cupping myself from her wandering eyes even though she was behind me. I wasn’t falling into that trap again.

  Suddenly, I felt her lips touch my back and my dick grew even more solid in my hands with a dull ache collecting in my balls that was too much to ignore. I had been ignoring all the trouble she stirred up in my jeans, each time more painful and uncomfortable.

  “Eve,” I warned, but she managed to lodge herself between myself and the shower wall, demanding I look at her. “I want you, is that what you want to hear, Evey? That it physically hurts to not know how to make you feel good. Stop pushing me to the edge of reason.”

  The steam created enough fog to make me comfortable enough to stop clenching my junk, and I pushed my palms into the shower tile around her. Her hands took it as an invitation to creep lightly up my ribs as she looked at me with her lip between her teeth that used to have a gap. She began kissing up my chest to my neck, and it felt so good that I couldn’t focus anymore as she spoke against my skin.

  “You don’t have to be afraid… It's just like collecting all our firsts together.” Her body was covered in droplets of water that made my dick pulse and my balls get tight the same way they do when I have to stop neglecting the needs of my cock. I wanted to wrap my hand around myself and stroke it the way I knew would feel like an exhale, but the thought of her lips was too distracting.

  My head bowed down to meet her halfway, finally giving in to my first real kiss before I regretted my next few decisions. Her soft, full lips pushed onto mine right before they fell open, letting a moan run away into my mouth.

  My palms leaned into the tiles, giving her more access to my mouth while her fingers threaded into my hair, pulling me closer. I had no choice but to follow her lead when her tongue crept in to meet mine.

  There was no easing into Eve.

  Our bodies pressed flush together, and I couldn’t help my mouth from opening wider just to taste more of what I’ve been missing out on.

  Why did she taste so good? Did all of her taste like salvation?

  Pushing my hand down between our bodies, her lips stilled from nipping at mine when the tips of my fingers explored right between her legs. She was a wet mess that the pads of my fingers slipped against and my hand paused.

  Pulling away enough, I muttered between us, “I don’t know how to do this, Evey.” Shaking my head, I wanted to give up right there. My experiences were limited to a different set of body parts, and I was going to embarrass myself if I continued to fumble through this.

  Her fingers pressed onto my hand, making sure my fingers stayed there, when her mouth found my neck. “Every way you touch me is enough, Bowey.” Swaying her hips against my fingers, I heard the small whimper fall from her lips right onto the sensitive part of my neck, drawing my eyes to her.

  Her arm wrapped around the back of my neck, keeping our foreheads touching when she pushed my three fingers inside her.

  Warm and wet never felt so inviting; it had me swallowing the nerves lodged in my throat.

  I didn’t know what I was doing, but I kept watching her unravel layer by layer with each new touch.

  Reaching her hand forward, I felt her fingers wrap around my girth when she slid her hand up to my tip making me shudder. She was right, it didn’t matter how we touched each other, even through fumbling, it felt like heaven.

  Her out of breath voice whispered between us, “Is this right, Bowey?” The familiar pressure continued to mount as I humped her closed fist, and she rode my fingers in a needy way that looked edible on her.

  Nodding, I let my lips press against hers again when she moaned into my mouth, and I felt myself come undone right there on her thighs within minutes of kissing. I would have felt embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good.

  The pressure of her hand soaked through mine, keeping my fingers buried deep inside her as I watched her come for the second time. It was now my new favorite sound, touch, look, and it drove out all the parts of her I collected from other women that helped me survive without her.

  “Shit,” I groaned out as my forehead found the cold tile beside Eve.

  “See? Not so terrible,” she whispered as she continued laying down kisses while I got my head on straight.

  Taking my fingers back, I had the uncontrollable urge to taste her when I pushed a finger past my lips and sucked her flavor right off. She tasted like caramel and absolution, making me devout.

  I would worship at her altar every Sunday if she wanted.

  I pulled away from her, ripping all the good feelings off like a band aid. “This can’t happen again. I am not ready to explain everything you missed when you left.”

  Pretty Princess I could handle, my Evey, was another story entirely.

  EVE

  Still pressing my shoulders against the shower wall, I let the still pulsing orgasm linger on my sensitive parts.

  Bowen’s kiss was the only one that ever mattered. I had been waiting for his full lips to touch mine in a kiss like this since I was old enough to daydream of what they would feel like—how he would taste and sound in the throes of rapture. Every part of his tender movements lived up to the moments in my head so explicitly, I could almost prepare for how more of him would feel.

  Bowen was the first person I had seen naked—fully naked—not in a television show, romantic movie, or the occasional porno. I took in every patch of his matured body that I could when his mouth wasn’t latched onto mine.

  Nothing about him was like when we were kids.

  He had muscles etched from stone, so toned that I couldn’t help but get caught on each curve of them flexing. His shoulders were broad, his eyes more violently gray, and his jaw seemed to be sculpted in ways you only read about in fiction.

  When it came to the parts of him I overlooked in innocence, I nearly melted down the drain. He was hard, smooth, and perfectly groo
med with a single vein trailing from his hip down his length that complimented the thick head.

  Every part of him was made for me.

  He was a work of art and I was mesmerized.

  By the time I finally felt the heat turn cold—the water and the warmth running through my body, I stepped out of the shower to see Bowen already in bed with a book in his lap.

  Holding the towel against my chest, I snuck out of his room without being seen, padding downstairs to snatch two containers of Chinese takeout that were still on the coffee table.

  Bowen hadn’t eaten and something inside me sprang awake with the need to protect him. Crawling into Bowen’s bed next to him, I watched him look up through his eyelashes, following me up to the pillows where I nestled in the free space, crossing my legs. Opening up the containers, I found lo mein and in the other was orange chicken, both smelling like the perfect bookends to our shower.

  “You didn’t eat…. Noodles or chicken first?” I offered, handing him a pair of chopsticks.

  Barely pulling his eyes away from his book, he grumbled, “I don’t eat that shit. Don’t make a mess in my bed.”

  He didn’t toss me out, so I was taking it as a win.

  The silence was bullying me into filling it between loud bites and flipping of the pages, but I didn’t know what to say. Bowen wasn’t someone who enjoyed small talk and neither did I, so I landed on the obvious. “Going to tell me what happened to your lip?”

  Closing his book with a slam, he looked up but not at me. “Would you like to tell me about Denmark?”

  Neither of us was capable of giving up our pasts, our truths, the parts of us that were so ugly that we even hid them from ourselves. We gave in, in our own unique ways like with our fingers, lips, hushed moans, and tension that buried the ugly deeper.

  We both wanted the ugly from each other at any cost because we knew we could handle it.