Fuck, I hate the waiting.

And life around the house has been getting a little crazy. We’ve gone from me having to keep my girls in the house, safe and sound, to getting them out in the real world again.

Amy was scared shitless when I told her Ivan was gone. She doesn’t like the thought of him being alive any more than I do, I think. She hasn’t said anything, but I can tell she wishes I had taken that fucker’s life. Taken the man who threatened her and her daughter. I wish I had. Fuck the consequences.

I’d like to kill that fuck like the pig he is.

Amy’s been coming out of her shell bit by bit. The news of Ivan being released terrified her, but she knows she’s mine now. She has nothing to worry about.

And every night I try to drill that into her mind and body.

She’s not going to be simply a wife to me or the woman who warms my bed. No, she’s my possession.

My fucking obsession.

Mine down to the very core of her being.

I can’t even stand the thought of anyone else coming near her, smelling her, or touching her.

There’s an inky blackness that surrounds my mind. What we have consumes me. It burns like a fire raging through my soul.

Amy represents something to me that I will never have. Something I’ve never touched before. Something inheritably good and pure. She’s so beautiful to me, so fucking ethereal, that it can be painful to think of for any length of time.

She’s the good side of the darkness that I bring to the world. She has a fucking halo, not the horns I wear.

I’m not a good guy. I kill people and I don’t feel bad about it. I’ve done and seen things I should never have, but her light tugs at my soul.

I shouldn’t allow myself to be drawn to the sun, but I have no choice. The more I watch her, the more I must have her. The more I must hoard her.

She is the corner of the universe I want to keep to myself.

Stepping out of the new smelling car, I grin widely. It’s a thing of beauty. Cost an arm and a leg, but it’s worth it.

Fuck, for half a million dollars, this thing better see Abigail through high school. Not that it will, I plan on my girls and unborn child having the best they can.

If that means dipping into the considerable nest egg I’ve built up over the past few years, then so be it.

Leaning my head into the kitchen from the garage, I shout, “Hey sex-on-a-stick, get out here!”

“What did you just call me?” Amy all but shrieks across the house to me.

“Come here, I have a present for you,” I say as she comes into the kitchen. The annoyed look on her face gives me a chuckle. She hates it when I objectify her.

“Why?” she asks me.

“Because I want the best for you. There’s no trap in my presents, Amy. You’re safe with me,” I say before ducking back out of the doorway.

I haven’t closed the garage door and the sunlight streaming in from the outside shows off how sparkly the new car is.

Eyes wide as can be, she takes a step into the garage. I toss the key to her but I guess she’s not paying too much attention because it bounces off her chest and drops to the floor.

“What do you mean a present for me?” she asks as she eyes the car.

Pointing to the car, I say, “A present, as in a gift, to the mother of my children. You know, the woman I keep claiming in the bedroom every night?”

I walk over to her and bend over to pick up the key. Straightening, I wrap an arm around her and help her walk around the car as I slip the key into her hand.

“This is yours. You’re going to need something safe to drive around in when you are dress shopping for the wedding.”

She stops at the word wedding, pushing the key back into my hand. “What do you mean wedding?”

“We’re going to be married, Amy. You’re the mother of my unborn child. You are the mother of my daughter Abigail.”

“I have a say in these things! And Abigail isn’t your daughter! I’m probably not even pregnant!” she shouts.

She pushes the key back into my hand and starts backing away from me.

Taking two large steps to her, I grab her hand and yank her back to the car.

Spinning her around, I bend her over the car’s still warm engine hood.

My hand comes down in a solid whap three times. Each time it connects with her bottom I hear her breath gasp out.

“Fight it all you want, Amy, but you need to come to the realization that you’re fucking mine. You’re pregnant with my child. And nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to change that. You can fight this all you want, but if you yell at me like that again, I’m going to start treating you like an obstinate child.”

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