Page 43 of Filthy Little Games

14

Creed

“Idon’t want to want you, but I would never say never.”

Those are the words Zara told me earlier today. I thought she was referring to the possibility of wanting me in the future, not hours after we were married.

But there’s no denying the way she was looking at me earlier.

My wife couldn’t peel her eyes away from my cock, which was so damn hot.

It’s been over a year since I’ve had sex, since a woman has seen or looked appreciatively at my naked body.

I need to get ahold of myself and calm down before I make a fool of myself by coming on her thigh.

Trying to calm my dick down after my shower and second hand job of the day, I dry off and wrap the towel around my hips, then retrieve Zara’s phone from my discarded pants pocket.

Other than asking me to call into work for her, she hasn’t triedto make any calls or even get her hands on the device, which is surprising.

Entering her easy code, I unlock the phone and start snooping around, wanting to learn more about my new bride.

I start with her text messages.

Other than Izaiah’s that I deleted last night, there are a few conversations that seem to be with people she works with, talking about shifts and store shit.

Moving over to her photos, I open the album, expecting to see mostly images of a little girl who looks like her mother in the recent images. Instead, there are photos of people and places in the city, mostly Queens. Random things, all in black and white which makes them seem sad. I go through pictures of a train, an old man sitting alone on a bench, an ice cream truck, women pushing kids in strollers, and a cat sitting in the doorway of a bodega before I finally get to an adorable, smiling, curly-haired girl in full color.

The first image is a photo of the back of her head. In the next several shots, she’s standing in front of glass with greenery and rocks behind her. If I had to guess, I’d say the images are from the zoo.

Right, that was Zara’s reward for setting me up and getting my brother killed.

There aren’t many different settings behind the girl, just tons of her looking and pointing at different things, a few of her eating a melting ice cream cone. The pink dessert is literally dripping down the sides of the cone, over her fingers, and running down her messy, cherubic face. Every photo of Oriana is brightly colored, a contrast with the images of dark and gloomy city life.

Knowing why she helped Izaiah lure me and Carmine to the club that night, I don’t feel nearly as angry with her. If anything, after learning what Izaiah has put Zara through, I want to hold her and kiss her until she forgets that bastard ever existed. And I wantto be the one who returns her daughter back to her arms, to make her world bright and happy every second of the day.

Fuck, I hope Izaiah is rotting in hell where he belongs.

While I don’t trust Zara enough to return her phone to her yet, I order up a compromise for her online and have it shipped to the penthouse.

After I’m done with her phone, I check mine and follow up on a few messages before I walk out of the bathroom.

The last thing I expected was to see Zara sitting in my bed underneath the covers, wearing my white tee.

God, I want her so damn much, it hurts.

I wish I could climb into bed, grab her, and kiss her to see where it goes. After all, it’s our wedding night, and she’s waiting for me in my bed.

But I can’t do that.

Not after what she told me about fucking Izaiah Rovina and his “favors.”

Not until I know if she actually wants me and doesn’t feel obligated to fuck me because she thinks she can’t say no.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Zara asks when I continue standing there like a statue, my fingers gripping the two phones in one hand and the doorway in the other as if trying to hold myself back.

“You want the truth?”

“Yes.”

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