Page 56 of Seizing Control: Part Two

I leave the door ajar as I move to the door next to mine.

This is the room she used before we were married.

I try to open it.

It’s locked.

Fumbling for my keys, I am stealthy as I unlock the wooden barrier keeping me from my pregnant wife... and son. It hits me that I’m about to lay eyes on the kid I share with Bebe at the same time as I get a full view of the bed Cherub occupies.

The planet tilts beneath my feet.

Because my wife isn’t sleeping.

She’s making love.

My eyes are all-seeing and unseeing at once.

I’m frozen to the spot.

The bottom falls out of my world at the sight before me.

Cherub’s whimpers low. The moans that spill from her lips are greedy. Shudders run through her body. The long, blonde tresses that I love to pull spill down her back, brushing his knees when she arches into the hands pawing at her breasts. My wife cries out, her nails digging into tattooed thighs as she rides a man I instantly recognise.

Lazarus.

The Venom and She-Venom tattoo etched between her shoulder blades flexes when the man inside my wife jack-knifes upright. He cups her nape. Holds her to him. His body is bowed to accommodate her round belly. I hear every harsh intake of breath my wife takes when he pumps into her from below. Rising and falling on her knees, she does her best to absorb his harsh thrusts. They are lost in each other. Hands exploring. Hearts connected with palpable adoration. Their mutual ecstasy is subdued while they work to contain their pleasure in the dark. This coupling is a dance, a well-practiced dance. It’s clear that this isn’t the first time they’ve fucked with Cherub’s pregnancy to contend with.

My wife compounds her betrayal when she murmurs, “God. Zeke. Yes.’

Like I’ve been punched, I stumble backward.

Lazarus peers at me over Cherub’s shoulder.

He grins. Wide. It’s filled with challenge and ill-intent.

The empty feeling in my chest transforms into a vice. I can’t breathe. My heart pounds. In a frenzy, caught between pain and rage, I curl my fingers into fists to stop myself from giving in to the urge to intertwine my fingers in my duchess’ hair and rip her off Lazarus’ cock. Manic thought after manic thought crashes around my skull. I deny them control. I know that if I gave into my dark thoughts, I would drag her downstairs, flay her alive with my thoughts about her lack of loyalty as I throw her out of my house. The misbegotten child she brought into my home would follow, with her first love sent after her with a bullet in his head.

There would be no coming back for us...

Still, my hands itch with the need to grasp my handgun.

“I love you, Zeke.”

The adoration in my wife’s voice is a death by a thousand cuts.

“I know.” Lazarus’ smirk deepens as he drives my wife to breaking point with his cock. She comes with his devotion ringing in her ears, “Love you too, metukà shelì. To Neptune and back.” As she clutches him tight, moaning and whimpering her way through her climax, he croons, “That’s it, sweet thing. Shatter. Grip me tight with that pretty pussy while I fill you with my cum.”

There is nothing carnal in the way he keeps his gaze locked on mine while he empties himself inside my wife. His expression is filled with wrath, daring me to reveal myself, goading me to make a fatal misstep. When I remain silent, his gaze brightens with satisfaction, and I choke on his victory.

This turnabout is well-deserved.

I fucked Cherub in front of him. Just as deliberately as he is taking her now. And, while I allowed my darkness free rein, Lazarus remained captive to the circumstances I’d created due to his silent vow to stop me if I went too far with her.

The only difference is he took pleasure in the sight.

I do not.

For me, this is a perverse kind of torture.

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