For the past month, every day has been the same.
I get up and take a shower, always going to great pains not to look at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t need the visual aid to know there are dark circles under my eyes and that those same eyes hold little life to them anymore.
I then rush towards Donavan’s gym to get a workout in, praying that some cocky soldier of mine has mustered the nerve to bait me into a fight and is brave enough to face me in the ring. I relish in the pain of every jab and punch they punish my body with, needing the physical agony to overshadow the blistering ache living and breathing inside my tormented soul. A silent war is taking place in the confinements of my black heart, and every wound I suffer screams to be acknowledged. It demands that something or someone pull the misery out into existence and let the outside world bear witness to how mangled and bruised I truly am on the inside.
So, I stand in the center of the ring and let my men do their worst. If they’ve done a proper job of it, I even let them win the fight.
For them, it’s a morale boost.
For me, it’s a show of my gratitude.
Because it’s in this small window of my day that I’m no longer a lie.
My broken, abused body is now a perfect reflection of my blackened marred soul.
Unfortunately for me, that’s the highlight of my day.
After that moment of truth, everything goes to shit.
I go into the office, take my second shower of the day, and put on a suit that I despise. Once I’m wearing the lie the world expects of me, my autopilot kicks in, and I waste the morning growing the empire my father left me. But even as I’m on the phone with the Deputy Commissioner requesting a little extra every month so his boys in blue can turn a blind eye to my other business ventures, I zone him out. All because I can physically feel the seconds pass by through every limb, the infernal ring of a ticking clock in my ear telling me that soon it will be noon.
And once the clock strikes twelve, my hell begins.
My town car waits to take me back to The Avalon, only instead of going home when I arrive, I get out on the ninth floor and walk the small distance to the empty apartment where my brother, cousin, and wife are waiting for me.
What happens next is pure torture.
It always starts the same.
After I’ve taken off my suit jacket, I sit on my throne and order Rosa to come out of her hiding spot. Without delay, she emerges from the bathroom, always looking like a goddess, ready to seduce the soul of any mortal who dares even look at her.
Long dark hair that almost comes down to an ass that begs to be fucked.
Legs that stretch out for days on end and know how to trap a man in between them.
Small waist and wide hips perfect for grabbing and leaving fingermarks on.
And two natural fucking breasts that would put most porn stars’ bought ones to shame.
The woman is a vision.
Yet, for all her flawless glory, she’s always hesitant at first, walking into the room on featherlight feet as if she’s afraid something will pop out of the corner of the room and eat her alive. But despite her nerves, my fierce wife always makes sure to look me dead in the eye before she walks over to her two lovers.
It’s almost as if her gaze is telling me that I hold the power to stop what’s about to go down.
All I have to do is open my mouth and say no.
But I don’t.
I never do.
And since I don’t utter a word, she walks over to Shay first, offering him a smile that she’s never once gifted me with. I fist my hand every time I see her do it. Hating that my brother gets this sweet side of her when all I get is her animosity. But what’s even more troubling is how Shay’s eyes soften at the mere sight of her. Like she’s the most precious thing there is.
I hate him for it.
I hate her even more.
Once Shay lifts her arms to cradle over his shoulders, Colin springs into action. He stands behind her, gripping her waist and grinding her ass against his already hard cock. Like clockwork, Rosa always looks over her shoulder and bats her long eyelashes at him.
“Hi,” she says sweetly, her sultry voice better than any blue pill on the market to get a man hard.
Colin growls in response and kisses her like her mouth is his to own and conquer. After he’s made sure she’s left breathless from just one kiss, he turns her head to face Shay, who in turn, kisses my wife like she’s a fragile flower.
After that, the rest of the hour spent in the room becomes my own personal purgatory.
Colin fucks my wife with brutish force, while Shay makes love to her.
Rosa screams incoherently, both in English and in her native tongue, as they coax out of her body orgasm after orgasm. Shay whispers sweet little praises in her ear, telling her how beautiful she is, how good she feels around his cock. Colin grunts and brands her body with his hands, his nonverbal way of mimicking Shay’s words in the only way he knows how. Her body glistens with sweat, her lips part open to let out her sighs and moans of desire, all of which only serve to have me squirming in my seat.
Because it’s in this moment I witness my wife come alive in between them.
Her whole being bursts into a bright light, ensuring she blinds me completely when she cums.
And once Shay and Colin are done, they kiss her temple and lips, honored for the privilege of having her.
And they do have her.
Heart, body, and soul.
I see it in her eyes every time they walk out of the room and leave.
Her gaze filled with sadness that she can’t walk out the door with them.
That she has to stay in this room with me.
If I blinked, I probably would have missed it.
But I don’t blink.
Not once do I take my eyes off her. i
My heart only restarts with the sound of the door closing.