Page 21 of Piston

It’s neat. Too fucking neat.

Normally, when I come here, I don’t take notice, Natalie my only focus, my cock leading my way, but right now, everything is fucking pristine, likehow I bought itkind of pristine.

With a heavy feeling settling in my gut, I storm to the kitchen and open the cupboards, slamming each one when I find it empty. No not just empty, fucking bare!

What the actual fuck?

I turn and head down the hallway, ignoring the living area that’s clearly not been lived in, and open the bedroom door.

The bed is made like normal, but there’s nothing personal, no pictures on the nightstand or her jewelry on the vanity near the large window, no fucking cat toys or Bluebell's bed in the corner.

And no fucking perfume smell or the scent of candles she likes.

I spent fucking hours in Natalie’s old apartment, and it always smelt like honey and vanilla.

I storm over to her walk-in closet and start cursing a fucking storm.

“Empty, it’s fucking empty!” I slam the door shut and check the bathroom, and I curse again. “Where in the fuck are you staying, Diamond!”

I feel my pulse racing, panic hitting as I slam the closet door, leave the room, and go into the living area, looking around. Again, no pictures, no fluffy throw that she likes, or her slippers underneath the coffee table. No magazines or books on the shelves, all fucking empty.

Motherfucker.

I turn and thunder out of her apartment, slamming the door as I go. I grab my phone, ready to call my wife and find out what the fuck is going on when I hear a car.

I look up and see Natalie’s Ford park next to my bike. I grit my teeth as she climbs out in jeans and a—fuck me, is she wearing a blouse?

Why in the fuck would she wear a blouse?

She looks up when she hears me walking toward her but frowns and asks, “Who pissed in your Cheerios? You have a face like thunder.”

My lips twitch, but I clear my throat to hide it.

Damn women. Fuck, I missed her. Her hair is down, curled around her shoulders, and her makeup is light.

She looks fucking beautiful, and it hurts even more so that she did this to us, trapped us in an unwanted marriage…one that I’m starting to realize would have happened one way or another.

Tilting my head at her, I demand, “Where have you been staying, Natalie? That fucking apartment is bare of any of your things!”

Her beautiful midnight eyes darken, looking nearly black, before she snaps, “That’s none of your business." She walks past me and continues, “Now, are we doing this or not?”

I chew the inside of my cheek, hoping I don’t snap her fucking head off at treating our sex life like a fucking chore when we both know we’d be fucking like rabbits if things weren’t this way.

I snap, “No we’re not,” causing her to stop and look at me with a raised brow, a little hurt in her dark blue eyes, and I instantly see it. She thinks I don’t want her when that couldn’t further from the truth.

I sigh and say softly, “Gran and Aunt Holly would like you to join us for the family dinner.”

She freezes for a moment, waiting for me to tell her I was only joking, but her eyes widen when she realizes I’m not.

I raise a brow at her, knowing she won’t defy my aunt. I wait her out, which doesn’t take long.

Growling, she stomps past me, mumbling, “Great, just flipping great. So instead of not getting an orgasm and being left unsatisfied, I’ve now got to sit around a table, acting all lovie fricking dovie for a few hours with a husband who is an ass, and can’t pleasure his wife and remember where to find her clit once a fricking month.

I snort but cough to hide it, rubbing my hand over my mouth to hide my grin.

Okay, so I may have been punishing her with the no orgasm thing for forcing me into this marriage, for forcing herself into my heart, even if it was unintentional…. Maybe I need to change that so she doesn’t bite my dick the next time she sucks it.

My cock twitches at the thought of her pretty red lips around me, and I whisper, “Down boy,” as Natalie continues to mumble under her breath.

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