Page 4 of Viparious

“You, meely moy, are like me, don’t lie.”

She hums and finally gives me the taste I need. Pure oxygen makes me dizzy as she softly moves her lips across mine. Pulling back before I do more damage to my body and fuck her like an animal, I squeeze her ass and press my lips to her cheek.

“Come on, malysh, you’ve got blood on you.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and rests her cheek on her bicep. I don’t let her out of my arms as I walk out of the elevator and into our bedroom. Setting Inessa on her feet, I remember her gift and pull the wrapped item from my pocket. I don’t put it in her hand, not wanting to get more blood on my queen than I already have.

Inessa doesn’t scream this time but throws her head back, laughing, “You’re such a freak. Buy me jewelry next time. Or just don’t disappear for weeks.”

It’s only been twelve hours, and I move back with my brows coming together.Her face drops with her voice at my confusion.

“You did go on a killing spree? Instead of coming home like you promised me,” she asks in a way that only has one correct answer.

There’s no anger at pointing out my lie. It’s hope. Preferring everyone to think I was crazed instead of tied up, I nod. But my queen sees too much and assesses my body. The scan is clinical, and she gasps, noticing the holes.

“I’m getting a doctor.”

She holds my forearm and puts a hand on my back, trying to guide me like I haven’t just carried us both upstairs.

I’m not incapable or someone who needs help and move out of her hold. She follows me into the bathroom, ready to argue, but manages to hold her tongue. It’s out of character, and I’ll deal with shit in order. I need the fucker’s blood off me first, and I do a double take at the reflection in the mirror as I turn on the shower. All the wide eyes make sense because I’m covered in blood. The only thing visible on my face are my eyes, and it’s all in different stages of drying from brown to deep red.

The room fills with steam, and my queen storms off, unhappy with not being in control. Kicking off my boots and shorts, even my dick is covered with it, having soaked through the material. The only person’s DNA that touches my dick is my wife’s, and I quicken my steps, needing it off me as soon as possible.

My head tips back as soon as I’m under the spray, and my eyes close as I fist my length. It’s not for pleasure, but I don’t want to see anything other than Inessa on my dick. It will go on strike if I think about those dirty fucks. Something thuds on the tile behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see my beautiful, angry wife fixed on my fist.

Her voice is full of reprimand, the teacher voice as she scoffs, “Seriously? Are you going to masturbate in your current state?”

Rather than tell her my thoughts, my lip curls up at her choice of verbiage.

“Don’t say masturbate, it’s weird as fuck.”

It makes it sound educational, like I’m in some sex ed class.

Looking down at what she’s put beside her, I move away as though it’s dangerous.

“Why have you got a chair?”

It’s the one from her vanity, and my dick comes to life in my hand as she pulls my t-shirt off her body. She speaks as though it’s perfectly normal and kicks the legs so it’s further under the spray, then gestures to it with her hand, “Sit down, your leg is bleeding, and you look like Swiss cheese for fuck’s sake.”

Am I fuck sitting on a chair to shower. I’m not old or struggling to stand. Ignoring the woman who’s raging behind me, I scrub at my scalp, feeling the blood soaked through my strands. Delicate arms wrap around me from behind as she hugs me and uses the softest voice I’ve ever heard with a word that she’s probably only just learnt.

“Please, lapachka3, I’ll even shut up for the rest of the day.”

Any persuasion she’d built with manners is chased away by the threat. I need her smart mouth to run. It’s a form of cognitive behavior therapy. She’s been there slowly wearing away at my brain and now I need that constant bullshit to focus.

I hold her wrist and pull her to stand in front of me. The dirty blood has soaked into her strands and stains her cheek from when she was pressed against my back. Cupping her face with both hands, I direct her under the spray and wipe the blood off her cheeks with my thumbs. My voice rumbles at the idea this woman would ever fucking beg.

“Don’t be weak, you never beg anyone for anything.”

She nods, but her shoulders aren’t as straight or strong as usual. I move back, looking down her body as I ask, “Did they fucking touch you?”

It’s the only thing I can think of for the change in her demeanor, she’s not shy or timid, she’s strong and a pain in the ass. She tries to distract me and leans up on her toes, threading her arms around my neck. Everything burns, and I tilt my head out of her reach as I bark her name, not knowing if I want her to lie or not.

“Inessa.”

She doesn’t flinch and just smiles sweetly at me. Then rolls her eyes, so I know she’s okay, and I can fucking breathe.

“Not in the way you’re thinking. They just drugged me, and I couldn’t see anything.”

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