My father once told me that with great love comes great consequences. I used to roll my eyes and grumble at him, annoyed with hearing the same damn words over and over throughout my childhood and teenage years. After all, I didn’t bother much with relationships. After watching the way my mother and father drove each other batshit crazy with their love for another, I decided to put that shit off for as long as humanly possible and just have fun.

So when I came home at the young age of twenty to introduce Dahlia to my parents over Thanksgiving break, my father took one look at the dopey-eyed, smitten smile on my face and laughed his fucking ass off.

Yeah, I know. I ate my fucking words and then some. But I didn’t care about looking like an idiot, and I didn’t care that my days playing the proverbial field were long over. The only thing I cared about had long blonde hair, big brown eyes, a gorgeous smile, and curves I could trace onto a sheet of paper with my damn eyes closed. I knew every inch of her body better than my own.

Dahlia was mine the minute I laid eyes on her. And I never once looked back.

I knocked her up in her last semester of college, so consumed by the way she’d embedded herself as part of my heart and soul. My desperation to make sure she stayed mine forever had me throwing out her pills and telling her she was having my baby. She laughed, called me crazy, and walked into the bathroom to grab them out of the trash can. Until I hooked an arm around her waist and threw her to the bed, promptly stripped us both of our clothes and got started on convincing her that she should just do what I say. I married her right after her graduation.

Yeah, I’ve always been a controlling motherfucker. But it’s gotten me what I want, so whatever. Hopes and dreams don’t wait around for you to achieve them. You gotta get off your damn ass and make that shit happen yourself. Another piece of advice my father gave me. One that I actually listened to with eager ears and even went so far as to write it down.

But even though fortune can indeed favor the brave, too much fortune can leave you open for inevitable ruin.

And despite ten years of marriage and being the luckiest asshole alive, my fortune had to run dry at some point.

I just didn’t realize that it would come in the form of a fucking crazy bitch who got her rocks off by drugging men and exercising some kind of sick control over them.

Yeah. I can talk about it now. I just don’t need or want to. It was disgusting, and it fucked with my head so much that it almost laid waste to everything my heart needed in order to survive.

No man wants to admit to something like that. The humiliation, the helplessness, and the horror of having their carefully crafted world cracked right down the center.

I felt like I’d betrayed my own wife. What if I had just gone home with her like I knew she wanted me to that night? What if I’d never accepted that offer for a second drink? What if Dahlia thought I’d betrayed her? What if she thought I was full of shit and was just using it as a get out of jail free card? What if, what if, what fucking if.

Never mind everything else. The what-ifs are what have the capacity to ruin you if you let them. And without even realizing it, I almost let them do exactly that.

“Hey,” my heart says, stroking a finger down my cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

I shift my eyes from the window to look at her beautiful, sleep crumpled face. “Like a baby,” I tell her, grabbing her underneath her arms and pulling her over my chest to kiss her lips.

“Leo…” She ducks her head with a croaky laugh. “Morning breath.”

That makes me scowl, so I roll us over until she’s pinned underneath me with my arms caging her in on either side of her head. “Since when has that ever stopped me?”

She bites her lip, her long brown lashes fluttering as she stares up into my face. Christ, I’ll never fucking tire of looking at her. Ever. I might have let my guilt, my shame, and my fear almost ruin us, but nothing, not a damn thing, can ruin me quite like this woman lying beneath me. And even though that’s exactly what she did, I needed it. I’ll never fucking forget the feeling of my heart dying when I found her with that asshole. But she is my heart. The fucking air I need to survive. There’s no surviving without her. So I’ll live every damn day loving her until the painful memory fades into dust.

“You have a point there, Mr. Vandellen.” She exhales and I inhale, lowering my head to fuse our lips together. I take it soft at first, knowing she likes to be tortured sweetly in the morning before I brutally devour her. She whimpers, and my already hard cock twitches. I lower my hips, giving it what it wants, which is right between her amazing legs. I roll my hips, grinding into her damp panties while my tongue enters her mouth. She moans softly, and I move, tugging her panties off and throwing them to the floor.

I smooth my hands up her legs, spreading them wide when they reach the inside of her thighs.

“Leo,” she whispers throatily. “Did you lock the door?”

My gaze stays pinned on her shaved pussy. My hands move in farther, my pointer fingers gently grabbing either side of her folds and spreading her open. She squirms, and I smirk, my blood running hot as I stare at her glistening arousal.

“Leo,” she hisses at me when I don’t answer.

“Huh?” I mutter then remember what she asked. “Yeah, yeah. Locked.”

She laughs quietly then moans when my thumb runs over her pussy, stopping to toy shallowly at her entrance.

“How do you want my cock today, wife?” I lean down, nipping her stomach as she says, “I want it to fill me. Now.”

Her impatience only fuels my desire to torture her. But I’ll humor her today after she does one thing for me first.

I rise to my knees, crooking a finger at her and grinning when she frowns. “Sit up and open those pretty lips nice and wide.”

Her eyes flare, and I grab her hand, helping her up. She lowers to her hands and knees, mouth open and looking so fucking beautiful. I rub the head of my cock over her perfect, plump lips. Shivers run down my spine when she sticks her tongue out and licks me. Fuck, she knows exactly what she’s doing. My control snaps, and my cock finds its way into her warm, waiting mouth. My hands sink into her long hair, tugging while I rock my hips. She gags, taking me as deep as she can. Having this woman take my cock exactly the way I like is one of the best damn sights I’ll ever see. The way she lets me take control makes it hard to ever get enough. Sex will never become tainted when it’s with her. I scold myself every time I stick my cock inside one of her holes for thinking it ever could’ve been.

It doesn’t take long for my balls to tighten, my cock throbbing with my building release. I pull out, swiping my thumb under her bottom lip to remove the excess saliva. “You like having my cock for breakfast, don’t you?”

She nods, licking her lips and driving me wild with the need to fill her with my cum. “Turn around.”

She shakes her ass playfully at me as she does, smiling over her shoulder. I smack it, loving the way it bounces and the red mark my hand leaves behind.

Mine. Always mine.

Running my finger down the crack of her ass until I reach her pussy, I find her dripping wet. My finger slips inside, and she bucks. I slip a second one in, and she moans. “Leo … “

“Quiet, wife. Unless you want the kids to hear all about our playtime?” My voice is low and hoarse, my heart racing like it’s about to pound a hole through my chest.

She shakes her head, shamelessly rearing back onto my fingers. I think it’s time to put us both out of our misery. So without any further fucking around, I remove my fingers, lick the wetness from them with a groan, and then align my cock at her entrance. My head rolls back as I slip inside her tight, warm pussy. But just like every other time, before I allow myself to move, I thank God for creating this woman for me.