THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance

by Elena Monroe

  This couldn’t happen again.

  His hands were busy with his pants as his body weight pinned me in place. I wanted to beg him to stop, to force my way free—anything except be frozen the way I was.

  “You - you can’t do this to me again. I know what you did.” My teeth grated and I felt my jaw hurt from the tension as I barely forced my words out.

  I could feel exactly how much stealing what he wanted made him excited when his hard ridge dug into my backside. His lips pressed to my temple, letting out a groan that I wanted to shake from my memory immediately.

  His grip on me forced my body from the wall, throwing me against the floor in a strong push I couldn’t catch myself from. Landing on my hip, I felt the sharp pain wrap me around me as I moaned out in pain while he added to my collection of bruises.

  Tainting my love bites with his violence.

  Kicking the door closed with his foot, he rushed me before I could get up, his grip on me yanking me back to my feet. His voice seeped into me from behind, pushing me forward. “You finally remember? Tell me what I did. I wanna hear your pretty lips say it.”

  I didn’t notice the wetness on my face until the salty tears touched my dry lips. “You’re disgusting. I’m untouchable now, you can’t risk it. Let me go, now, Elias.” I stabbed my words forward, but they hit a dead end in front of me.

  Pushing me into the edge of the couch, his body pinned me down again as his hands ripped my robe off, exposing me. My thong showcasing my ass and push up bra only gave him ideas as the weight of his hand pushed onto my back, forcing me to bend.

  I felt his free hand smooth down my arms, pushing the straps free, my breasts barely left in the material. Before I could register what was happening next, he pushed his fingers between my legs, staining all of me… again.

  I wanted to scream, cry, and hate myself for enjoying my new freedom when that doesn’t exist while he’s a living, breathing reminder that I wasn’t strong enough.

  Here I was the strongest person everyone knew, but in Denmark none of that mattered.

  There was no strong enough.

  His fingers violated my pussy, roughly against the dryness until he gave up and tugged the band of my thong down my legs. Not bothering to pull them down completely in his rushed movements, I slammed my eyes shut and did something I never did: pray.

  “Don’t fucking touch her!” Bowey ran towards my stepbrother who now had his hand on the inside of my thigh moving closer and closer to the parts of me that weren’t his.

  I turned around, watching in awe as my husband’s hand wrapped around his throat, pushing him further into our house—effectively stopping him from saying much else with his fingers digging into his skin. Elias was gasping for air, arms thrashing against nothing.

  Slamming his back into the marble island, I watched Bowen cock his fist back causing Elias to shudder, trying to avoid being hit. There was no avoiding his rage, it filled the room top to bottom, and I expected Elias to be bleeding out soon.

  Slowly walking closer, I picked up my robe and quickly tied it back around my waist. Rounding the island, I noticed the paper tent I hadn't seen before. Flipping it open, I read Bowen’s cursive writing: I’ll be back. Your Bowey.

  Something did change last night.

  I wasn’t the only one feeling more free.

  Until I noticed a bottle that was still firmly in his grip when he set it down to give Elias his full attention. “She came onto me...”

  My face sunk in on itself and my heart crumpled up as soon as he barfed up that lie. I wanted to punch him myself but even the idea of hurting him made me disgusted—he’d probably like it.

  I always fought against his grip and it only ever made him want me more.

  Elias's eyes scraped down my body, smirking shamelessly before Bowen realized he wasn’t even looking at him threatening to break bones in his face… he was looking at me standing here uncomfortably like I needed to shower his touch off.

  Bowen clasped down on his jaw, forcing him to look at him in his punishing grip. “Did you- you fucking piece of shit.” His knuckles were already burning red and sprinkled with Elias’s blood. The

  punishing blows didn’t stop filling the kitchen with dense, deep, sounds of skin on skin. I swore my spine shot up straighter when I heard the deep crack of bone on bone.

  I wasn’t even sure why my eyes were watering more—if it was because Bowen knew I’d been touched again or the fact that all the air in the room felt violating as much as his hand between my legs did. The sudden silence pulled me back to the moment as I opened my eyes to see Bowen turned to me with this look in his eye like I wasn’t as pristine anymore.

  I never wanted to be a Pretty Princess, yet, when he called me that it made me want to be nothing but perfect for him.

  Elias groaned, holding his face as he sank to the floor trying to recover. “She’s sloppy seconds, not worth the effort, isn’t that right? She can’t even fake enjoying it. Wasn’t worth the price you paid.”

  Bowen wasn’t being cruel after all; he did pay for me and my nightmare just confirmed it.

  Who pays for someone? What kind of parent lets someone pay for their daughter?

  This wasn’t the 1700’s where a dowry was needed to marry someone.

  Soulmates don’t have a price tag.

  Forcing myself to look down, I watched Bowen’s grasp hold him in place even though his body was basically limp. Blood washed over his All-American boy features that made him seem less evil than he is.

  Bowen’s boot ground onto Elias’s fingers lying on the floor of the hand not nursing his wound as he sucked in a breath. “Shut the fuck up,” he barked down at him, giving him one last painful blow to the head to knock him out before his murky gray eyes found mine again. “What the fuck happened, Evey?”

  Shaking my head with silent tears running down my face, I fled the scene heading up the stairs to our bedroom.

  I didn’t want to speak this demon’s name.

  I didn’t want to admit the devil in the details of what transpired here.

  I never wanted to explain this to Bowen.

  I said enough last night without filling in the blanks.

  “Eve? Evey?” He shouted after me when I felt trapped and ran into the bathroom, getting into the tub, hugging my knees to my chest before he pushed the door open. “What just happened? Did he-” His hands were on his hips and I could see the judgment blurring his vision of me.

  He looked like he was in physical pain.

  “I was stupid enough to celebrate. I thought last night changed things for us. I thought we let go of our demons when mine is downstairs.” Hugging my knees even tighter to my chest, I watched Bowen take off his shirt and let his jeans fall to the floor with a thud, leaving him in nothing but boxer briefs outlining the toned muscles in his legs. Climbing into the huge tub, he sat across from me in his underwear, propping his feet up on the edge.

  “I’m never going to think differently of you even if he touched you, Eve. At least that’s what I used to wish someone said to me. I used to wish a lot of shit before all those ungranted wishes became demons. You don’t have to say anything.” Twisting the knob, the water cascaded into the tub. I was still dressed, and he was still in his underwear.

  Even being separated, the story of our lives kept us close. I knew from the moment I saw Bowen again after what seemed like a lifetime apart that something wasn’t right with how little interest he showed in sex, me, my body, or even his own. I just didn’t know it was the same trauma happening to me miles away. I faced his demon in the church and now he saw mine in its ugly form. “I’m so-”

  I couldn’t say enough sorries for us.

  “Don’t. He’s dead. I buried him up at Patmos.” Looking down, he stared at his bloody hands submerged under the water now filling the tub. The water threatened to turn pink and neither of us cared how morbid it was to be soaking in blood. “I want to touch you the way you deserve, I do, I just don’t know how to… e
verything about me is painful, and I’m afraid all of that pain will just continue to hurt you.”

  I let the tears fall for both of us, finally giving the pain the attention that it wanted. “I don’t need you to touch me, Bowey, I just need you to trust me… to keep loving me.”

  If he trusted me the way he used to then he would have admitted his truth—the alcoholism, his brother being the unspoken grief, his sexual traumas, and whatever else lurked inside those stormy eyes.

  His long legs fell into the water, one leg on each side of me with his hands on my knees. “I’ll never stop loving you, Evey. And I trust you... I just wish you never left. I wish you knew so I wouldn’t have to explain all the ways I’m fucked up. We would have protected each other—I would have killed him for touching you.”

  Pushing my knees apart, I felt a warmth in the pit of my stomach growing when he leaned into me pushing his lips against mine so carefully. Whimpering against his lips, I whispered between us like a dirty secret, “I don’t want him to be my last memory, Bowey.”

  His wet hands cupped my face, holding me still when he shifted between my legs, kissing me again only this time I felt his warm tongue touch mine. My chest was heaving already, and he had barely touched me. Even with the water between us, I could feel every hard inch of him pushing against my satin shorts.

  Pulling away only enough to take me in with his eyes, I felt myself try to swallow away the head rush only he was capable of giving me. His lips whispered, moving against mine, “He’s never going to hurt you again.”

  My hands smoothed up the sides of his body hoping he would kiss me again if we were settling for less. I felt his hands pick me up, soaking wet, sliding me onto the edge of the tub where there was a ledge around it. On his knees, still submerged, his hands tugged my wet robe apart, exposing me even though my legs were still closed. I didn’t expect to be run over with the brick of nerves I felt when I watched his hands part my legs.

  This wasn’t our first time, but something felt precious about it.

  No bruises or love bites but what someone needed after going to battle.

  Kneeling between my legs, he pushed between them until he was settled, making us almost the same height. He was six-three, but on his knees, we met at a decent eye level while our hips lined up almost perfectly. I felt his arms wrap around me, keeping me close when his mouth kissed down my neck and over my see-through bra.

  “Say something, Bowey,” I begged in the silence.

  Pulling the tank top over my head, he looked over my body like he wanted to really see me, not the body parts clouding his vision. “I’m going to be the only one who touches you from now on.”

  I was taking inventory of every scar, every tense muscle, every way he combined delicate and distraught in one form. He was so beautiful I felt it filling my heart because all of his beauty came crawling out of the dark just like mine.

  Pushing the band down on his boxer briefs between us, I watched his length bounce out. He had no idea how perfect he was and that made me want to worship him more.

  His eyes avoided mine and his hands gripped the ledge around me like it was painful to be like naked right now… it felt too real. The other times we’d been together were fueled by passion, desire, need, guilt, and the truth—all colliding into our ravenous touch.

  Slipping down into the water enough to feel him, I pushed my chin up until my lips found his jawline and laid down kiss after kiss. My fingertips scratched down his torso, his abs, his silent pain killing me more than if I were to hear it.

  We absorbed each other’s pain and fed it to our demons to build more of our Hell.

  “How many times did he…” he couldn’t even say it.

  “It feels like too many, but I don’t know…”

  My kisses rounded his neck and trailed down to his chest as his hand on the small of my back slid down to my ass. He didn’t grope me or even close his hand, yet it was the right amount.

  Our mouths found each other again, opening for more, and my body felt so warm flush against his chest, I swore I could break out in a sweat.

  “Eve, fuck,” his voice was strained, and we were both breathing heavily. “I don’t wanna hurt you again because I’m hurting.”

  My aroused body pulsed as my tongue licked up his throat to his chin. “You could never hurt me, Bowey. I promise.” I felt his knuckles brush my inner thigh when I looked down to see his hand wrapping around himself.

  I was seriously jealous of his hand.

  Slipping back onto the ledge, I opened my legs wide, letting him look at me as he came closer before settling between my legs. Letting my hips relax, I felt him slip inside me on an exhale, sinking deeper and deeper as my body shook from the tension and satisfying fullness of him.

  How could you feel so starved for someone while full of them?

  Because no amount is enough.

  His hand on my ass held me still while he thrust himself inside me as I clung onto him. I couldn’t help but whimper at how good he felt, bringing his eyes to mine. His breath rattled around his words as he held my jaw, rubbing his thumb across my lips before pressing a soft kiss onto them. “Is this okay? Are you okay?”

  “It’s perfect, Bowey.” My words kissed his skin, and I could feel him letting go in a way he hadn’t yet. He wasn’t trying to be in control or even lose control; he was being overthrown into being himself.

  Every time he thrusted inside me, I felt myself molding more to him; every curve of my pussy hugging him in a tight desperation that was begging for more of this Bowey.

  “I still don’t know what I’m doing… You’re the only thing that feels familiar.” His lips kept grazing mine in wet kisses with our bodies flush as the water splashed over the sides of the tub. My hands on his biceps tightened when I felt him slip deeper, a kind of deeper I didn’t know I had.

  “I don’t either.” My voice felt smaller than the strength I hoped it would show for him to keep going. I was drugged and raped—not exactly any skills required for that.

  His hands grabbed at my skin, taking handfuls of me, keeping me close against his hip’s strides. He wasn’t pulling out to push back between my legs, but to bury himself deeper.

  Bowen didn’t need to be a grave deep inside me for me to realize he was my future.

  Sensing my muscles tensing, his hands grabbing my thigh and ass loosened. “Are you still okay? Am I hurting you?”

  His eyes found mine before his hands cupped my face while I whispered, “No, I like how it feels. I like how you feel, Bowey. I can handle it.”

  Already mentally praying he wouldn't stop, I arched my back driving my hips into his even though he was staying so still.

  Still cupping my face, he spoke, “I can’t help myself with you. You feel too good to be true.”

  Pressing his lips against mine, I moaned into him and opened my mouth right on top of his for his tongue to invade me too. Our mouths were hungry for more, yet our tongues were only moving in soft licks. Painfully soft compared to how he was filling me between my legs.

  It was contradicting.

  It was straddling the line between making love and having passionate sex.

  It was us defining our own love.

  Bowen’s tongue stopped chasing mine, but his grip remained tight, and with his hips kissing mine, I could feel his length jerk inside me. The feeling made me ravenous like it tempted to awaken all my sexual desires in record time. It was the push I wanted to give him so we would fall over the line into something people considered fucking.

  Painfully raw, and so rough it leaves you satisfied to a point that it’s hard to contemplate wanting sex again. Giving someone the power to make you that satisfied is dangerous but there’s no one I trust more.

  Wrapping my legs around his even tighter, my hands smoothed down his ribs while his hand kept my leg pinned against him. I felt myself slipping into ecstasy as his hand gripped the edge until his knuckles looked white, his face burying in the crook of my neck.

/>   He beat me to the ecstasy part this time.

  “I won’t break, Bowen. I’ll never break for anyone but you.”

  Feeling his lips pepper kisses on my neck, his one hand on me got tighter when his hot moans spilled onto me along with the warmth between my legs.

  Bowen stiffened against me, trying to catch his breath before his thumb lifted my chin. “I told you I can't help myself.” There was this mischievous tone to his voice as he lowered his fingers to my clit... like he knew this wasn’t over.

  It wouldn’t be until I was satisfied too.

  BOWEN

  I was still holding Eve close long after I emptied myself inside her. I wasn’t keeping track, but I knew I was doing it enough times for it to be careless. We barely figured out how to be married, be friends, be us again, so throwing a baby in the mix was only going to create more scar tissue for both of us.

  I made a mental note to get some clarity on her fertility status after Elias is dead.

  Quietly I whispered to her, “I’m going back downstairs before he wakes up. You stay up here.” Pulling up my boxer briefs, now soaked, I kissed her forehead before I climbed out of the tub.

  I wasn’t sure how I had just stepped out of heaven to already be feeling my fists clutching onto hell so tightly. Everything I pushed away came roaring back with a vengeance. Every mental image I told myself to not create formed right inside my head long enough to make me angry.

  There was no seeing red, I wanted to see black. I wanted to be covered in what hurt Eve.

  I didn’t even bother covering up to hide my scars; I wanted him to see just how unhinged I was. Enough to wear my scars like trophies for living with what I did. To show him pain isn’t an enemy but a good friend.

  When I got to the bottom of the stairs I could hear the determination of the cuffs, metal on metal, against the drawer handle in the kitchen. I had secured his limp body to the drawer before I chased after Eve. I wasn’t done toying with him, and he knew it by the sounds of him failing to escape.