A Sinful Triangle

Ch.4-Mornin, Sweety...

ZION'S POINT OF VIEW

She’s right. Everything she said was true. But f**k, I didn’t know she was a virgin. Yes, she was tight as f**k, but I thought that she didn’t f**k in a while. I mean, she was f*****g 20. Girls these days f**k at 14.

She’s feisty as f**k, she has a big mouth, and she’s... dangerous. I know she’ll keep her promise if I touch her, I saw it in her eyes... f**k, her eyes...

And now... now she’s trying to make me back off by striping. A part of me wants to back off and let her sleep alone because I have a feeling that I won’t be able to sleep much with this hard-on, but I can’t back off in front of her. I don’t back off in front of anyone, not even death.

The only time she lost contact with my eyes was when she pulled the tank top over her head.

Shit!

Fuck!

Holy s**t!

Holy f**k!

I involuntarily take a step back to see her better, and my mouth watered and dropped in an instant.

I think I’m drooling.

Who the f**k is she?

“Eyes up here, hubby.” She tries to make me look back into her eyes, but... the round breasts... how the f**k can a collarbone be so hot? And the small waist... she has a feminine six-pack, arousing and erotic... and the tattoo... I’m caught in a trance.

Why didn’t I try to f**k her in other positions? Why didn’t I pay attention to her body?

Why?

My eyes follow her hands, which are now on her pants, planning to unbutton the sinful latex clothing. The sound of the zipper makes my hard d**k leak and twitch against my tight boxers, -which I took to keep my d**k pressed to my body in hopes that she won’t see my hard-on-, then, when she slowly pulls the pants down, I almost come.

Her hips are beautiful, her legs are long, and she has that beautiful gap in between her thighs, right under her p***y.

Fuck!

Her panties are white, contrasting her slightly sand-tanned skin... shit... motherfucker... how am I supposed to sleep next to her?

“Yes, I know, I’m flawed, I’m inked, I’m everything you don’t want, so, you should hurry and divorce me and take a flawless puppet.” I look at her face, and I see... nothing. She has a poker face, I can’t tell what she feels or thinks. She’s not frowning, smirking, or glaring. She shut herself and built walls that I didn’t know she has it in her to build.

“Goodnight,” I say in a voice deeper than I ever used, aroused and angry at the same time. On who? I’m not sure.

On her for hiding her true self? On me for not paying her any attention and trying to get to know her?

She smirks, thinking that she’s right and I’m backing down because I don’t like what I see, but she’s so wrong... I like it too much and I don’t want to lose it and f**k her ten ways to Hell and Heaven.

I go inside the bathroom and shut the door, cursing myself for making her sleep with me.

How the f**k will I sleep with that wild beauty next to me?

I look down at my crotch, and I thank God that the pants I took are loose and they don’t show the shape of my hard d**k. Well, it shows a bit because I’m big, but she wouldn’t know because I was seldom aroused around her.

Just... how?

Lets go to more urgent matters.

How the f**k am I supposed to sleep next to her?

I can do it. I’ve slept next to her for... how long? Two years? Three? Anyway, I had no problems whatsoever, so now it shouldn’t be any different.

But now she’s a f*****g tornado of beauty and fire.

Shit. I can do it.

I go back into the bedroom and almost groan when I see her naked shoulders, the sleeve tattoo, and the red hair around her head, looking like a fiery halo.

Shit. I don’t think I can do it.

“Coming to bed sweety, or should I go in another room?” I can’t see her face clearly but I could hear the amusement and mockery in her voice.

“No need, sweetheart,” I reply with the same tone she used but my d**k slapped me for not taking her up on her offer because I will die of blue balls.

I stride confidently across the room and slide under the covers, fully f*****g aware of the f*****g fact that the woman who I don’t know, but I like, it’s f*****g naked.

I can do it.

“Sweet dreams, hubby.” I roll my eyes and fist my hands so I wouldn’t reach out and slap her round, firm ass until she’ll be raw red.

I don’t know if I can do it.

“Same to you, lovely.” And then silence came.

Her breathing evened out at some point, but mine didn’t, and how could it?

This morning when I left home I left behind an overly obedient, annoyingly obedient, wife, and after a few threats that were supposed to bury the said wife, I’m met with... this!

A f*****g ball of fire that strikes whenever it’s poked, and I don’t know how to f*****g react.

Should I still kill her?

But she has the evidence against me, and now I’m sure that the little ball of fire won’t hesitate to set up a wildfire that will burn me and everything around me to the ground.

Samara, my boring wife... I look at her but quickly close my eyes shut when I see that the covers lowered, and now half of her breasts are naked.

Shit!

Who are you, Samara Leroy?

SAMARA'S POINT OF VIEW

I don’t know why because I was supposed to be scared for my life at least a little, but I slept better than I’ve slept in years.

Maybe because I know that now he’s taking my threats seriously.

He was still asleep when I woke up, and that made me smile. Not because he’s sweet and gorgeous when he sleeps, or because he has an angelic aura to him, bla bla bla.

Nope.

Why?

Because the garage is close to our bedroom window and I’m planning on working on my bike.

Of course, just to be on the safe side, I opened the window.

I tied my hair into a messy bun, dressed in a simple, white tank top and the loose jumpsuit I bought so I wouldn’t soil good clothes, and with a huge smile on my face, I take the audio system from the living room and bring it with me into the garage.

“I need to work out more.” I breathe out when I finish installing the damn thing and wipe the sweat off my forehead, then play some of my favorite music, turn it as loud as the speakers can take, -that’s f*****g loud-, then start working.

I decided not to call Ares and instead, I’ll show up at the underground races and kick his ass, then beg for forgiveness.

It wasn’t long, I only got to open the oil bath and let it pour into a bucket, maybe ten minutes until the garage door opened, and an angry-looking Zion appeared in the doorframe.

I glance at him from behind the bike so he knows that I’ve seen him, then turn and continue doing my thing, silently telling him that I give zero f***s that he’s angry.

“I was sleeping!” He screams over the music, and I look at him so he knows that I heard him, smirked, then turned back to my oil.

Ten seconds later, the music stops, and this time I glare at him.

“Hubby, turn the music on,” I demand and stand up, and he looks at me up and down, clenches his jaw, and fists his hands, most probably angry as f**k and disgusted by his sweaty, oily, wife.

“Or what?” He dares, and I go towards him, stop at less than arm’s length, and tilt my head to look into his bright eyes. They are f*****g evil, I swear. I can see the devil and the army of demons in them.

“Or you’ll have a rough time washing the oil.” I put my gloved, soiled index on the middle of his chest, and he looks at it, then at me, and smirks.

“I washed nastier things off my body.” I know he was referring to blood and brains, and the insides of the people he butchered, but my brain chose to focus on something else.

“Then you should demand your whores to take a shower before you f**k them.” His face hardens, and before he gets to say something I put my palm flat on his chest and let it slide down his 8-pack, mentally cursing him for looking so f*****g hot.

“Samara, baby, you’re playing with fire.” He threatens and takes a step closer, but I don’t back down, quite the opposite, I take one forward even though now I have to tilt my head almost all the way back and our body heat is mending, just like our breaths.

“Zion, sweetheart, when I was dancing between flames you didn’t know how to f*****g spell fire,” I smirk at the shocked expression on his face, and as he opened his mouth to talk back, but I beat him to it.

“You don’t know f**k about me, hubby. And I don’t advise you to try and find out because you’ll be more shocked than you already are.” He grabs the front of my neck in a tight grip, but I just smirk.

“You--” And I do the one thing he hates. Interrupt him.

“On second thoughts, you should, you’ll divorce me faster,” My smirk grows as he frowns.

“You were a virgin, so it can’t be whoring around...” He talks mostly to himself and loosens his grip around my neck.

“Zion, divorce me and you won’t have to be humiliated by your high-class friends for having a wild, uncontrollable b***h as a wife.” He smirks, and now I’m the one confused.

“Lovely...” He trails off and moves his hand from my front neck to the back, pulling me toward him, then leans and brushes my cheek with his nose, stopping at the lobe of my ear, and I bite my inner cheek so hard that blood flooded my mouth, just so I would not shiver or moan.

“You won’t get rid of me this easily. At least until I get to know this Samara inside out...” His voice... oh, God, I’ve never heard him talk in this tone before. So deep, dominant, powerful, but sensual.

Fuck you!

And then he bit my earlobe.

Nope, I won’t moan.

I take a second and swallow the lump in my throat so I’m sure that my voice wouldn’t falter and I’d sound unaffected by him.

After I was sure that it was safe for me to talk, I grabbed the back of his hair and tugged on it, pulled his head back until our eyes reconnected and our noses touched.

P.S. Samara, he f*****g cheated on you a billion times.

“Be careful what you wish for because it just might come true, love,” I say with a mischievous smirk, and he groans, probably annoyed by the fact that I took control and mocked him by calling him love.

We stood like that for minutes, neither breaking eye contact, fighting through our eyes, and my heart grew bigger than the f*****g palace he owns when he pulled back.

“Tonight we’re going out to dinner with a business partner.” I look at him faking shock.

“Did you ask me if I’m available or not because I don’t remember...” He groans and licks his front teeth, angry as f**k, and I smile.

“You’re my wife, you’ll--”

“I will do what the f**k I want to do, and tonight I want to go out, and not with you, baby.” He groans louder than last time and takes a step forward, and I mirror him, challenging him to do something.

“Samara, don’t try me.”

“Or what?” I sass, and he sucks in a sharp breath as if to calm himself.

“Or I’ll make you regret it.” I chuckle mockingly and turn around to go and do my s**t.

“I want to see that.” I dare him, and in two seconds I’m being restrained by a hard body and two strong arms.

“Zion, let me go.” I threaten, -trying not to focus on his morning hard-on that presses against my ass-, and he chuckled mockingly.

“Or what?” He copies my tone, and I sigh heavily and tsk my tongue.

“Or this,” I say dryly and throw my head back, hitting him harshly, and I take advantage of the moment of weakness and shock and step on his foot, -bare foot. I’m wearing boots.-, making him loosen his grip on me, then I turn, and push myself away from him.

“You...” He trailed off in a gruff voice while checking his nose.

Now, he either can't feel pain, -because I'm sure that being head-butted hurts, not to mention the bare foot vs. boot battle-, or he can hide his pain way too well.

“I... what?” I urge him to continue, and he groans.

“Dinner. Tonight.”

“Plans.”

“Dinner.”

“I’ll pretend that your hearing is just fine and won’t repeat myself,” I say mockingly, and he makes a sound of utter disapproval.

“Sam, I really don’t want to fight you.”

“Oh, we’re giving each other sweet pet names? A bit too late for that, don’t you think?” He opens his mouth to most probably say something stupid, but I cut him.

“About fighting, you might be bigger and stronger, but I’m leaner and faster--”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, you were talking about couple fights? Sorry, we never had one so you can--”

“And why didn’t we?” He snaps, and I look at him puzzled.

“Because I always kept my mouth so we would have a happy f*****g marriage.” I spit back, and he laughs humorlessly.

“Did you think for a second that maybe I didn’t want a f*****g boring, annoyingly obedient wife? I would have adopted a f*****g dog if I wanted that!” Consider me shocked and confused. He must be f*****g with me, right? Yeah.

“If you weren’t so busy f*****g whores and spent more time with me, if you would have made the effort to make me feel safe and free with you, you would have learned all about me! But noooo, you preferred f*****g around instead of paying a little f*****g attention to the loyal woman sleeping next to you, the desperate stupid b***h who begged for a f*****g dinner together and never got it! So don’t you f*****g throw this f*****g s**t at me! Divorce me, Zion. I’m not meant to be what you want! I’m not a w***e ready to fall to my knees and suck your d**k! Oh, wait, you didn’t even let me do that! I was willing to become anything you f*****g wanted! I was-- Zion, this Samara is not what you want, and I’m not willing to change. So f**k off with your dinner and your business partner. I have f*****g plans. Next time announce me beforehand!” My throat hurts but the look on his face is worth all the throat pain in the world.

Before he gets to say something else I push past him and turn the music loud then go back to my bike.

I need to make it perfect for the race tonight.