“No, Sir.”
“Good boy. Sit up.”
He does, and I return his phones. “Meet me at the hideaway office tomorrow at noon. Ass lubed and ready, or it’ll be very uncomfortable for you.”
His cheeks turn deliciously red but he nods. “Yes, Sir.”
I lean in, tightly cup the back of his neck, and kiss him. Not just a peck on the lips, either.
With my lips slanted over his, I thoroughly explore his mouth with mine and let him have a literal taste of the kind of life now within his grasp.
I want him needy and hungry—for me. “Text me first thing every morning, and last thing every night. You may still text Liam, but he comes second to me.”
He nods. “Yes, Sir.”
Am I seriously going to force Ward’s loyalties onto me, and use what I know about operant conditioning to train my boy so that Liam automatically comes second in Ward’s heart and soul?
You’d better believe I am.
I’ve never had a fear of my husband leaving me. Before this, I never would have so much as entertained the notion.
“Right hand,” I say.
Without question, he holds it up. I fasten my day collar bracelet around it.
I want Liam’s heart to ache when he sees that bracelet there. I want him to remember the day he fastened it to my wrist.
I want him to remember how it pained him to watch me remove it upstairs.
I need him to understand what he has to lose if I walk away.
The only way I can function is to believe my husband wants me and wants to save our marriage.
Maybe this tangible reminder of what his choices are—to fuck up and lose me, even if he does keep Ward—will help him make better decisions going forward.
The other part of the equation is I’m hurting and cannot make myself wear it right now, even though I want to.
It’s not the reality.
I cannot pretend this didn’t happen, that Liam didn’t shred my soul by not doing one little thing I asked of him.
It’s impossible for me to act as if my trust wasn’t shattered and I’m struggling to figure out how Liam can even regain it.
Hurting Ward isn’t my priority, either. Not anymore.
Never thought I’d say that.
Instead, I’m going to get as much mileage out of this situation as I can and use it to my advantage in case it does end badly. I now have an inroad to valuable information via Ward’s political affiliation.
“Have you been approached to join The Fellowship yet?” I ask.
“Yes, Sir.”
At least I don’t have to explain to him what that is. “Have you?”
“No, Sir. I really don’t want to.”
“Did you tell them no outright, or did you just stall them with excuses?”
“Stalled them.”
“Good. Keep doing that. Say you’re too busy, or whatever’s required to keep the line open but not obligate you. I need you to keep track of who asks you, what prayer meetings you’re invited to attend, all of that. I’ll text you the info about the prayer meetings we attend. You’ll need to start attending some of those.” He doesn’t look thrilled about that. “Problem?”
“I was hoping not to go to those, Sir.”
“And people in Hell want cold water, but ask me if I care. I need a spy, and that’s you. People need to see you publicly practicing your faith outside of church. What church are you going to?”
“We haven’t settled on a new one here yet.”
“Guess what? You just got a new one. You’ll attend the Episcopal church we attend here. That’ll give us another good excuse to spend more time with you that your wife won’t think is fishy.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “Yes, Sir.”
“Stand up.”
He does.
“What’s your next step?”
He looks panicked and confused, and I relish it like I’m savoring a fine wine.
“Text you before I go to sleep?” he asks.
“Yes, good boy. Use the burner. I’ll have Liam’s burner tonight. Text me on that for now. I’ll get a new one tomorrow so we’re all protected.” Another aggravation—that means I’ll be carrying four cell phones.
Not that Liam knows about one of them.
I don’t want him knowing about it, either, which is why I can’t have Ward text me on that number.
After sending Ward out, I lock the door behind him and put away everything that I used on him. Then I make myself another drink, in a fresh glass, and return to the bedroom.
Ward’s cum is mostly dried all over Liam’s face. I lean against the bedroom doorframe and stare at him as I sip my drink. “Don’t you dare give him false hope that all you’ll need is time to atone with me. Success is not guaranteed.”
He watches me as I slowly walk over to him and untie his feet. For now, I leave his hands bound. The ice has completely melted inside the plastic wrap and his cock is completely shriveled right now.
Serves him right.
There’s a spreading puddle under him from the melted ice. Good call on the puppy pads, too. Otherwise, I’d be all pissed off again.
Right now I’m…
Sad.
This is the first time I’ve had to really sit in quiet contemplation of today’s revelations and verifications that my emotional radar is still completely functional.
I perch on the edge of the bed and sip my drink. “You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight.” We don’t have a guest bedroom here at the townhouse. We use the spare bedroom as a home office.
He hesitates but finally nods.
“Do not ask me when I’ll let you sleep in bed with me, either. The more you ask, the longer it will be. I’ll evaluate my feelings on a daily basis.”
He nods again.
I reach up and untie his right wrist. He can untie the other one himself. “Do not speak to me until tomorrow morning, either. I fucking mean it. And clean this mess up. You can also fix your own goddamned dinner.” I admit it—I flounce. I lock myself in the master bathroom and take a long, hot shower.
I feel like I want to scrub my skin right off my body because I enjoyed doing that way too damned much.
The last thing I want to do is fall for Ward Callahan right now. If he walks away from Liam again, I will be the one left picking up the pieces, and we can’t both be broken at the same time. It’ll kill whatever is left between me and Liam.
When I finally emerge from the shower after having used up all the hot water, I drain what’s left of my drink. I’m not even buzzed, unfortunately.
I pull my robe on and listen at the bedroom door for a moment. I don’t hear anything, so I’m guessing that means he’s not in the room. Carefully, I ease the door open and find the coast is clear.
He’s also tidied up the bed.
As I start to cross the room, I catch myself shaking my right hand and realize no, my bracelet isn’t there.
It’s on a man who’s somewhere in the DC Metro area, but he’s not here.
Not that I’d be wearing it right now even if it wasn’t on Ward’s wrist.
I suck in a sharp breath, almost painful.
What have I done?
The bedroom door is closed and I sink onto the edge of the bed and spend a few minutes trying not to hyperventilate while choking back my tears.
God, what have I done?
I’ve never claimed to be a perfect Christian. Never flouted my faith in other people’s faces, never used it to hide behind and disguise discrimination.
But I took my vows seriously.
All Liam had to do was tell me. That’s all.
He knew damn well what I’d been through, what I’d survived.
That horse has long left the stable now. Somehow, I need to find a way to get past it and move forward.
Because if all this falls apart around me, I’m going to need to pick myself up off the ground to get on with the rest of my life.
Honestly? I never thought I’d ever
be alone again.
And now I don’t even know if I’m still going to have a marriage in the near future.
* * * *
I retreat to the bathroom to wash my face and blow my nose. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t had anything to eat since my coffee and bagel this morning before work. Not even water.
Other than the two drinks.
I hate feeling like this. Helpless. It’s a feeling I only enjoy in very specific circumstances, and only when submitting to Liam.
Outside that, I’m darkly reminded of lying awake at night and listening for my father to stumble home, because if he started fighting with Mom, I wanted to make sure I could step in to protect her.
Helplessness outside my previously sturdy cocoon of trust with Liam sits in the pit of my soul like a sour ball of curdled milk.
From my dresser, I get pajamas and pull them on. If I’m naked under my robe it’ll be too easy for Liam to maybe try to suck me in, sweet-talk me, even though I’ve told him not to speak to me until morning.
I hate fighting with him. We don’t fight. We’ve never needed to fight.
I’ve never stepped out of his control before, and he’s never given me a reason to. I’ve always felt loved and cherished, protected, even. And like a partner, not like an outsider. Not a mere possession with no say or will of my own.
I’m almost to the bedroom door when I realize the reason my stomach’s been rumbling is because I’m smelling something tasty.
Fucker.
I don’t know what Liam cooked, but it wouldn’t shock me if he made himself something and didn’t bother to make me anything. In fact, I’m so convinced that’s probably what he’s done that when I storm downstairs and into the kitchen, I pull up short when I see two plates and sets of silverware on the counter. He’s just plating two steaks he pan-fried—which I’d put in the fridge yesterday to defrost for tonight’s dinner.
The microwave dings and I realize he’s nuked a bag of frozen mixed vegetables.
He’s pulled on sweats and a Celtics T-shirts and while he doesn’t speak, he looks at me with I’m sorry in his eyes.
It nearly breaks me but I cannot bend.
Not yet.
I suck in a deep breath and give him a curt nod, step around him to the microwave to grab the veggies from it, and then dish some out for myself.
I grab a chilled bottle of water from the fridge and carry everything back upstairs to our bedroom, where I lock the door behind me and then cry as I eat every perfectly cooked bite of steak.
If Liam’s weakness is Ward Callahan, then mine is Liam.
After I got my heart broken right out of college, I swore I’d never give someone multiple chances to hurt me. I saw what Mom endured.
Here I go, handing my heart over to a man who might break me in bad ways. This is exactly why I was against ever getting married. If we weren’t married, I could simply move out while he’s at work and have an attorney get in touch about splitting joint assets. We each have our own bank accounts, and a joint account we transfer money into for household expenses. I needed that security and Liam never fought me about it when others might have been jackasses.
Before now, he always did everything I asked of him to make me feel secure.
Always.
Worse?
What happens if I do fall for Ward? Then I’m vulnerable times two.
I don’t think I like those odds.
Chapter Nine
Liam is not a morning person. I’m not much of one myself, but I function better in the morning than he does.
I feel little regret when I arise early after sleeping like shit, shower, dress, and ease the front door shut behind me before five the next morning, and Liam’s still asleep on the sofa.
If he didn’t set his alarm, that’s his problem, not mine.
Not today.
Not until he’s back in my good graces.
I left the bedroom door standing open so he knows I’m not in there and he can get his clothes and take his shower.
I stop by a coffee shop the next block over for coffee and realize I can’t eat anything yet. My stomach’s a tight knot.
One thing I did this morning was take the hideaway door key off Liam’s keyring and put it on my own. I’ll return it to him later today.
And I still have Liam’s burner. Ward followed instructions last night and texted me good-night.
I catch a cab to a twenty-four-hour superstore and pick up two burners, among other things. You never know when you’ll need a spare. Another cab ride to work, where I’m definitely early, but that’s okay. It gives me some needed time to set one of the phones up, including installing the same secure app Liam and Ward have been using on their burners for calls and texting.
Probably the only damn smart thing the two of them did in this whole mess.
The other burner, I lock it in my desk, for now. Never hurts to have an extra on hand.
When I receive a good-morning text from Ward fifteen minutes later, I reply with the new number and a terse command.
Repeat morning text to this number. From now on, text me on that number. I will return this phone to him later today. He’ll let you know when he has it.
I wait, wondering how long it will take Ward to reply. It surprises me when it’s only seconds later I have a text on the burner.
Good morning, Sir.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Time for this boy to be trained by me.
Good morning, boy. Good boy. See you later, as we discussed.
I wait again and he doesn’t disappoint. Less than a minute later, he replies.
Yes, Sir. Noon.
Excellent. He didn’t forget or back out.
I mean, this is not me getting my hopes up.
Not at all.
I wait until eight to text Liam’s personal cell. Either he’s at work, or he’s about to be awakened and he’ll panic that he’s now late.
Noon. Hideaway. I have the key. You will get it back then, and other phone.
He responds ten minutes later with a thumbs-up emoji. Which is about to piss me off when he immediately follows it with several hearts of various colors, and the kiss emoji.
That’s his shorthand for I love you.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love him. That’s part of the problem—I do love the fucking doofus.
But I don’t respond. I don’t ask if he got up in time, no chit-chat—nothing.
Besides, I’m ass-deep in playing catch-up.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to busting my nut inside the boy’s ass in a few hours.
And making Liam watch me do it.
How long can I keep this up?
Well, they spent three weeks, give or take, doing this. I might drop being an asshole at that point, depending on how they react, but Ward’s still going to belong to me for the indeterminate future.
When—or even if—I change that remains to be seen.
* * * *
I make a point of arriving at the hideaway fifteen minutes early so I can prepare. The boy arrives before Liam, at five ’til, and earns bonus points from me for it.
“Good boy.” I snap my fingers and point at the floor off to the corner.
He immediately steps over there and kneels.
There admittedly is something sexy about a suit-clad US senator kneeling and awaiting your command.
When Liam arrives four minutes later, I don’t even look at him. “Lock it behind you.”
I hear the latch catch and I’m aware of him standing there, awaiting my next order.
Finally, I turn and look at him. “Jacket off. Sit on the couch.”
He does without question or comment.
When a twinge of panic rears up in my soul, I mercilessly squash it.
There’s no room for that. Not now.
I know I yelled at these two for doing exactly what I’m about to do in here, but I have a reason for it.
See, if I had left the situation hanging where they’d fucked around in here and I had not, I’d never be able to set foot in this office again. Not without my imagination conjuring every possible dirty thing they might have done here together.
It would eat at me.
So I need to own it the way I own Ward, and that is by putting my own memories into place here.
But Liam doesn’t get that explanation. If he doesn’t realize that after all our years together, I’m not going to tell him now.
I’m also pissed off it wasn’t me he was fucking in here on the regular.
I pull out a condom pouch. Fucking bare at home is one thing. Here, at work, it’s a logistical nightmare. I point at Liam. “Hands behind your head, and keep them there.”
He complies. I feel the weight of his gaze on me as I grab one of the large garbage bags I already removed from the box of them I purchased earlier and drape it over him, tucking it into his collar like a lobster bib.
From the way his left eyebrow arches, I know he has questions, but he’s keeping his mouth shut.
Thankfully.
I crook a finger at Ward to stand and approach. “You prepared?”
He blushes. “Yes, Sir.”
Good, because I don’t want him hating sex with me.
I want him craving it.
“Jacket off.” I hold out my hand for it and he passes it over. I toss it onto the desk, add mine to it, and twirl a finger in Liam’s direction. “Pants down, bend over, brace your arms on the back of the couch.
He gets into position while I unzip and wrap myself. I add more lube, because I’m not a psychopath, and stand between his legs.
“I want you looking into each other’s eyes,” I say. “No kissing, and no talking between you.” I grab Ward’s hips and slam home my cock home, making him softly grunt. I see the way Liam’s body tenses but he remains silent and in position.
At this point, it’s mostly angry fucking, for me. I don’t want to come too fast, but I literally cannot fuck around in here all day. I have a lot of catching up still, and meetings this afternoon. I pause and reach around Ward to find he’s hard. “Good boy. You can come.”
Profane (Devout Trilogy Book 2) Page 7