“Your Grace, let me take over for you. Just try to breathe.”
I’m suddenly watching all of it from a distance.
The midwife and another nurse are suddenly there; Mrs. Maisely and another housemaid, too; all four of them tending to Isla, who is still unresponsive, and pale, and bleeding.
I did this.
No, I didn’t. She did.
But that still doesn’t stop me from pacing just beyond the foot of the bed, hand clasped over my mouth, while a panicked lump surges to the top of my throat and tears burn the rims of my eyes.
This is literalhell.
My own personal hell after a fall from grace. Utter hell after her choices caused heaven to come crashing down all around me.
MALACHI
Thirty Years Old
THERE WERE A NUMBER of potential wives, and after my thirtieth birthday came and went, the expectation to choose one became all the more incessant.
I had moved to a penthouse condo in downtown Gallarney after I finished my obligatory stint in the Royal Navy, and Gallarney, for the time being, was the place I carried out my temporary duties.Temporarybecause the duties consisted explicitly of attending social functions in order to select a wife. Once I’d done that, I’d be required to take on a national pet project along with the participation of the aforementioned wife I was expected to choose. And given my last experience with a woman I expected to marry, I had very little motivation to accomplish this task.
But for five or six years, I played the part of the most eligible bachelor in Corwick and courted aristocratic Corwickian ladies and European women who had their own titles—princesses, and duchesses, and marchionesses, and countesses, and other women of lower nobility but nonetheless respectable birth.
And respectable they were—publicly, that is. Privately, many of these women were very…accommodating.And that did little to ease the lingering pang in my heart from Isla kicking the ever-loving shit out of me, but if I had to marry one of these respectable, well-bred women, the least I would do for myself was choose one who could give a good blow-job.
By the time I was thirty years old, the top candidate for my potential wife was Lady Elena de Ribadeo, the twenty-five-year-old Marchioness of Mallorca, part of the Spanish Balearic Islands. I had sincere appreciation for her because she never had a tendency to fucking kid herself and believe that a potential marriage between us would be anything more than an arrangement, a job, and a lifelong series of expectations during which we lived together, and fucked, and produced heirs, and did our duty to God and country. She knew I didn’t love her, she didn’t love me, but we understood each other. That was not only acceptable, but also just fucking fine with both of us.
By April of that year, I had decided that I would extend a request for Elena’s hand in marriage to her parents over the summer, and eased myself toward that end by spending an extended weekend holiday with her in Ibiza. We stayed at a spectacular resort, our room overlooking the turquoise ocean and golden sand, all of which was so goddamn lovely that it nearly distracted me from the fact that I would be engaged soon, and not a single damn thing about it was going to be what I had wanted my entire life.
But that hadn’t been my choice, nor did it fucking matter now.
From our suite overlooking the ocean through wide open balcony doors, Elena ripped the foil and tossed it to the floor, placing the condom over the head of my cock, squeezing me tight as she unrolled it, sliding it down my shaft, and I offered her a low moan of appreciation. I pushed her to lie down on a chaise lounge, and she spread her thighs wide as I climbed over her, bracing my hands on either side of her head while I pressed the head of my cock against her hot, wet center. Her eyes were closed, and that was well enough. I didn’t like looking at her while fucking her any more than I liked looking at any of my previous candidates. But unlike all of them, Elena never took offense to it and only took what I was giving to her.
I drove into her over and over again while she lifted her hips to meet mine and licked her full lips.
“That’s so good,” she mewled, arching her back and squeezing her breasts. “God, it’s good. Go harder.”
I allowed her toy with her nipples for a few moments before grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them to the chaise above her head as I thrust into her deeper and with more intensity, all the while staring at the ocean. She whimpered as I hit her at just the right angle, and then she swore under her breath. I felt her start to tremor around my dick, which forced my eyelids shut, and it catapulted me back in time ten years to Isla and every moment like this that we shared.
Amor, her voice from long ago echoed in my head.Amor. Mi amado. Mi alma. Mi vida. Te amo.
“Fuck me, Malachi,” Elena murmured here in the present, pulling her wrists out of my grasp and grating her nails down the ridges of my abs. “Fuck meharder.”
Andfuck her harderI did. I drove my cock even deeper and quicker, gritting my teeth as the chaise lounge creaked and shifted on the tile floor. Elena moaned loudly as she hit her climax, but despite that, I still managed to hear the chirp of my phone on the nightstand. The sound of our bodies slapping together and her continued cries of ecstasy filled the room, but I heard my phone chirp again, which was fine because it distracted me enough that I gave Elena a second full orgasm before my own climax hit me like a flaming brick to the face.
“Fuck…” The word drained from my throat on a ragged breath, while she whimpered in the aftershocks.
I lingered inside her for a few seconds as I caught my breath, and Elena dropped her head backward against the chaise.
She sighed contentedly. “You never fail to impress, Malachi, and I appreciate it as usual.”
I smirked as I pulled out and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “And you are most welcome.”
I climbed off of her, offering my hand so she could sit up before stepping aside to remove the condom.
“I’m going to take a bath,” she informed me, casual and easy and disconnected, just like everything about this relationship. “Would you like to eat in the restaurant or shall we order in?”
