I would’ve fucked her in front of them, then blinded their fucking eyes.
But that anger and violent possessiveness are nothing compared to the fear that she could’ve died if she’d been here all alone.
That her reckless behavior I once thought was adorable could’ve taken her away from me.
“That’s right. You would’ve fucking drowned.” I dig the pads of my fingers into her shoulders. “This nonsense will never be repeated. Understand?”
“Okay.”
“And you’re not drinking again until you’re twenty-one, and you know the meaning of drinking responsibly.”
A delicate frown etches in her forehead and she slurs, “Stop talking to me as if I’m a kid. I hate that.”
“Then don’t act like one. And for the last goddamned time, answer your phone when I call you.”
She bites her lower lip but doesn’t say anything.
“I mean it, Gwyneth. You can’t disappear without notice again.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“Why would you care whether I disappear or not? Whether I answer your calls or not?”
I grind my jaw, but before I can say anything, she tightens her legs that are wrapped around my waist. “Is it because you’re my husband?”
“Yes.”
“You told Chris and Alex that. You said you’re my husband and I’m your wife.”
“You are.” I never thought I would like saying those words out loud, but there was a weight that lifted off my chest the moment that statement was out in the open.
“And you care about me.”
“I do.”
“Like your wife or like your best friend’s daughter?”
“Both.”
She scrunches her nose at that, but she plants a palm on my cheek. “But it’s only sex, so I’m, like, your trophy wife.”
“You can’t be my trophy wife when you own as much as I do, Gwyneth.”
“True. But it’s still just sex.”
I don’t say anything, but I don’t need to, because there’s something other than water glistening in her gaze and the gray is warring with the green and the blue, slaughtering them to take complete control.
She releases my waist and I think she’ll make the short trip to the edge of the pool, but she dives underwater.
Is she going to be reckless again? Gwyneth and alcohol are clearly not the best of friends and I need to keep her far away from it in the future.
Just when I’m about to go under and shake the fuck out of her, she grabs my hips with both hands and unbuckles my belt.
What the…？
My dick, that’s been semi-hard since she dry-humped me in the car, thickens and hardens when she frees it with her tiny hands. Then she’s on the surface again, holding on to my shirt.
The water contrasts against her pale skin, the rosy tips of her tits hardening. I grab one of them and squeeze, making her moan.
“What are you doing, Gwyneth?”
She wraps her arms around my neck, using the water to lift herself up so that she’s at my eye level. “Fuck me, husband.”
My muscles tighten and my nostrils flare at her sure yet playful tone.
“You’re drunk, wife.”
“I can take you.”
“Are you sure you can fit my cock up that tight pussy? Last time, you said it was too big.”
“It’s okay if it hurts a little. I like it.” She wiggles around, pressing her tits against my chest. “Fuck me and make it hurt.”
“Why do you want it to hurt?”
“Because it means you’re giving me your all. And I’ll take it.” There’s a challenge in her eyes, a pure fucking fire that’s blazing in the middle of the water.
“You’ll take what?”
“Everything you have to offer and everything you don’t.”
My fingers dig into the flesh of her hipbone and it’s neither gentle nor soft. It’s rough and unapologetic because the challenge in her words is still burning and has to be put out.
“You need to learn your fucking place, Gwyneth.”
She runs her fingers through my hair and murmurs against my ear, “Make me.”
I back her up against the wall of the pool and she gasps when her back hits it.
“Are we going to have sex now?” Her voice is a bit low, but it’s sultry and throaty.
“We’re not going to have sex. I’m going to fuck you, wife.”
Placing both hands under her ass cheeks, I part them and lift her up, then bring her down until I’m fully inside her. In one fucking go.