Be a Doll(28)
I closed the passenger door with more strength than necessary, chasing away my dark thoughts while pinpricks invaded my hands as the pain in my chest intensified once again.
Twice in one day.
I forced air in my burning lungs and climbed in my SUV, faking a calm exterior when inside I screamed and yelled and begged for everything to be different as if I was still that same thirteen-year-old boy.
When the car came to life I didn’t waste any time and I started driving, as my mind latched onto the presence beside me so very quiet, but breathing. She was breathing calmly and that sound alone started to center me enough to push away the episode.
Slowly, so painfully slowly, the pinpricks left and my lungs stopped burning. I was back to my usual self. Cold. Hard. Unyielding. And mostly, mostly I was ready to play with Lila a little while we navigate through the mild traffic of a Sunday evening in Manhattan.
“Tell me, Lila. What do you think to achieve by holding out?’’
“Holding out?’’ She scoffed and made a move to play with the hem of her scarf before she stopped herself from fidgeting. Carter Manor probably taught these women to stay still even when feeling something conflicting such as anger like she felt at that moment. I knew what she felt because her eyes didn’t lie and the light in them told me that if she could, she’d be delighted to murder me. “I’m not trying to achieve anything. I. Don’t. Want. You.’’
“That’s a lie you tell yourself, dear little wife,’’ I retorted and made a turn as we reached the Upper East Side. Their home purchased a little over five years ago was close to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Guggenheim and when my mother felt like taking a nice stroll she enjoyed going to Central Park which wasn’t far either. I quickly located a parking space just vacated by an old couple and killed the engine. I turned my head to look at my wife who seemed to be grinding her teeth so hard I bet she’d have to make an appointment with my dentist soon enough if she didn’t let me alleviate some of her sexual frustration, and mine along with it. Then again, it’d put an end to this little game. “Don’t forget I’m not a young boy, Lila. I know when a woman wants me. I know it when a woman feels so much desire her breath hitches and she pulls her thighs together or when her pupils dilate.’’ I leaned closer to her as she blinked at me, her eyes getting bigger. “And you my dear, showed all of these signs and more.’’ My eyes fell to her breasts completely covered I couldn’t possibly locate them properly with her coat and scarf, but I didn’t need to. I remembered the tantalizing view from last night. And that morning. “By the way, your nipples looked particularly appetizing last night.’’
On these words, I climbed out of the car and made my way around to open her door without giving her the time to gather her wits and fire off some choice words. Right now, I wanted to revel a bit longer in that lust induced pleasure bubble in which my cock throbbed painfully in my slacks and my mind had most of its attention onto how I’d take my wife for the first time. Nothing else mattered for now and that’s all I could hope for until I would walk in my parents’ home.
***
LILA
“It’s so good to see you again, Lila,’’ Megan greeted with a hug and a huge smile that stretched her soft lips upward. Her eyes danced with happiness as she looked at me and then at her brother as if she expected us to be all loved-up the very next day after our arranged wedding ceremony.
“You too. I don’t think I properly thanked you for standing as my maid of honor.’’ I pulled away to see Sylvie hugging my husband while he gently patted her back as if such a demonstration of affection was a foreign concept to him and his stone cold ways. I discreetly shook my head.
“I was delighted to be in the wedding party. And the wedding was so beautiful!’’ Megan went on as she led me to the vast living room decorated with antique furniture that reminded me of the Manor. Against one wall I saw a replica of a Louis Philippe console that was in the hall of the east wing. That made me wonder how the women were doing over there and if more had found their future spouse. My life at the Manor already seemed so far away when in reality I was still there a few short days ago.
“It truly was magnifique!’’ Sylvie exclaimed joyfully, mixing English and French and it flowed perfectly with her accent and the class she naturally had. “Please, take a seat on the sofa,’’ she directed me and pushed her son to follow me with a bright smile and eyes dancing with a happiness that only made me realize how miserable I truly was in spite of my access to a considerable fortune and the overpriced wardrobe I had and would have more of soon if I felt like it. “What would you like to drink?’’
“A glass of wine would be nice. Thank you, Sylvie.’’
“Scotch for me, Mom. Where’s Dad?’’ Mathis asked, but judging by the flat tone of his voice he wasn’t much interested in the whereabouts of his father.
One glance at Megan had me wondering if she felt the same, but for some reason I couldn’t explain to myself considering the kind of fortress Mathis was, at that moment reading him was easier than his sister who busied herself with her own glass of wine that she had already been sipping before our arrival.
Sylvie busied herself at the wet bar strategically not far from the sofa and the armchairs so the person taking care of drinks didn’t have to feel excluded from the discussion. “He received a call regarding a delay in a delivery. So please, mon gar?on, don’t push him.’’ The warning in her stare intrigued me as she gave us our drinks and sat in the other armchair. In her next move she snatched her wine glass and took a hefty sip on a sigh. “Tell me, ma belle, what do you think of your new accommodations,’’ she asked me with a smile as she set down her glass.