Jackson’s POV
It was a Thursday when Lena Brady was officially buried. Where she had already been forgotten by the majority of the population nearly twenty years ago, it left only my men, Amara, and I to mourn her true loss. It was a risk to even allow it to happen but I would rather jump before Amara and take a bullet then deny her the chance to properly say goodbye to her mother this time. So while dressed in black and her mother's shawl, we spoke in prayer with the priest and were allowed today to mourn. Surrounded by at least forty of my men it seemed like Lena was as loved as she was missed, but this was all for Amara. Not a man unarmed or unalert as they crowded around us, a laying of white roses left atop a cherry casket that took a piece of my heart as well. Amara stayed hours after the final scoop of dirt was placed and smoothed while her head rested against her mother's stone. She traced the etching of "loving mother and selflesAmara’s POVSex didn't fix anything, but it was sure one hell of a distraction. Jackson shared this sentiment last night but left me to wake up alone, sore, and looking to ignore reality yet again. The evidence of last night was worn well into the sheets, a combined aroma of us both, as I tore it free from the bed and around my naked body to conceal myself from the cold air. I managed a few steps into the hallway before hearing voices belonging to Jackson's men. By the time the realization caught up with my feet, I was standing with disheveled hair and a sheet stained from our ventures last night pulled tightly around my torso. “Not that I blame any of you, but get all your collective eyes off my wife.” Jackson kissed my cheek and walked me out of eyeshot of the majority crammed into my mother's house. “I was going to bring you breakfast…”I slowly nodded before refocusing on my true desire. He captured my hand softly in his own and kissed the inside of
Amara’s POVWe found a motel twenty miles out of the city for the night. It was surrounded with men at every turn, complete with Cutter sleeping against the door. Gun on his thigh between open legs, it was an ease to my paranoia that he was armed and ready. Even if he wasn't Jackson, he was trusted by him and it made me feel at least a sliver of safety among the heavy weight of danger constantly surrounding us.But even if it was a way to relax, I still couldn't sleep. I managed a few hours on the flight with Cutter’s insistence, but was too fueled by adrenaline now to even try to close my eyes. Instead, I paced the floor quietly until moving into the bathroom to try and keep from waking up my bodyguard. While inside, the phone rang and a knock came to the door.“I'm going to be right outside the room. Don't come out for anything.” I agreed with him before hearing the door close. Not even a handful of seconds later and the motel phone ran
Jackson's POV I shouldn't have gone to her when I got her call once I landed in Chicago. But she was so goddamn believable that I didn't think twice about it. I wasn't even there for a handful of minutes before the fate of this choice became evident and I was being guided to a car with the threat of Amara's life depending on my cooperation. I followed until coming to that secondary location, enraged to the five foot something frame accentuated by Stilettos that nearly made us the same height. And to think I defended her to Amara when she was suspicious of her motives. Danielle. But she wasn't the meek and bored housewife she had been the last few years. Now, she was something darker. As if the mischievous ambitions she had for me took on a life of their own and personified before me now. She was someone I considered to be trapped in a loveless marriage and I even pitied her. But as she stood before me now with only a cellphone and a grin, I saw nothing but ev
Jackson's POVDays passed. Too many shifts from day to night and back to a new sunrise to care to count. I used to think of each new sight of the rising sun as a way to spend it with Amara and now I was loathing its presence knowing I was mourning her. It made me sick. Too sick to eat and sleep only coming from pure exhaustion. Anytime Danielle tried to get near me I was violent enough to keep her away. Because even if Amara's heart ceased to beat, mine would still belong to her.Everything began to blur. Days. Pain. Light. The only thing I held now were my memories. They haunted and liberated me in equal measure. I craved the illusion they brought in the form of Amara to perfection. She came to me with sorry eyes and a kind hand telling me it wasn't my fault. That she forgave me and understood how I had done my best. But one look in those doe eyes and my own were too misty to cherish the sight of her conjured by me, for me. Even the soft weight of her he
Amara’s POVFour months agoEverything happened in such quick succession that I was forced to endure it as if I was no longer in my own body to experience it. Danielle's threats and torments, her bullshit audio of what I'm sure was a way for Jackson to keep us both safe, echoed around me as my eyes diverted towards an exit. It was a rather small yacht, decrepit and overrun with enough armed brawn to make an escape a feeble and brainless attempt. Still, with keys set in my hand to strike, I reached forward and managed to swipe her arm. It was the only time I'd have the upper hand against her however as I was taken by strength I couldn't fight and pulled where I would only watch her circle me. “I can see it. You have the innocent prey thing going on. But Jackson needs a woman who can really take care of him. One who can go all night. One who can shed blood if he asks-or even if he doesn't-” This was the first strike she made. It was a simple slap that sti
Jackson's POVThe feverish rush of my lips settled into a slow strike of my tongue against hers. What began as a need to dominate became a necessity to confirm. Her hands on my arms were taken to my face as I needed to validate that she was truly beneath me and not some fantasy. The tender placement of her nails began to threaten my jaw as it clenched to her touch. As she moaned to a recent stroke of my tongue, I released her wrists and began my own physical perusal. “Take this off…” My voice rasped. She wore a raincoat that concealed too much of her from me. I needed her curves in my hands and her racing heart naked against my own. But as the material came free and she was revealed to me as if it were the first time, she had changed. The perfection was hollow. It remained in majority but was simplified. She had lost weight and the wonder as to why made my heart clench and my stomach wrap into a knot. Seeing the sadness in my eyes, she pulled me back into a ki
Amara's POVWife. It was a label I wasn't sure I'd ever hear again. Especially not from his swollen lips. If so, I imagined it would be a replay of a memory when my heart ached and I was desperate for some remaining tether to him. So to look at him now with the determination to prove our titles and ownership of each other, it was everything I'd wanted for months. “Please untie my hands…” I asked with as much confidence as I could muster despite the fact my thighs were still trembling. “I'm not done.” He cocked a brow as I tried against my restraints. “Please…it's all I've thought about for months.” It wasn't always sexual but it definitely wasn't sporadic when it was. With him before me now without a distance, I wasn't going to let him dominate me without at least understanding my own motivations and desperations. “Did you let anyone else try to fill that void for you?” His question was spat as he released enough tension on the belt to
Jackson's POV“There's no other way?” Amara whined as she stood in front of the floor length mirror with her dress held up over her breasts. Without needing to be asked, I came behind her to zip up the split fabric as our eyes met in the reflection. “She'll have her guard down tonight.” The pout making up Amara's features made me want to bruise her lips for thinking I hadn't thought of every other option. But Danielle has gotten one up on each of us before. She wouldn't get the chance again. “But why do you have to kiss her?” I grinned. I shouldn't have as I knew it was insensitive but I loved watching how jealous she was for me. As if I had the capacity to even try to think about anyone else, let alone act on it by choice, the scoff came out as a natural expression. “Because I told her I never would. It will lower her defenses enough to trust my intentions. That's only if it comes to it.” “But nothing else will happen…right?” Even thou
Jackson's POV“I'm so nervous…” Amara confessed while bouncing on her toes and bringing her fresh manicure to her teeth. I carried her hands gently to my lips for a kiss of calming as it seemed to work long enough for her to chastize me with a look alone. “You've worked hard for this and you've earned it. Pretty soon you'll have all of Massachusetts wearing “Lena”.” Her eyes swelled at the idea. Not because of her pride but because of how it honored her mother. Each model was set to exit with a shawl of her mother's favorite style which was an Easter egg of sorts to those who knew the detail. Like me. Like Leon. Even after the years since she was gone, he was hopelessly devoted to her. I understood the pull now more than ever. “Two minutes, Mrs Maldori.” The coordinator explained as I reached for the table behind us for the champagne I stole earlier. “Not that you need luck…” She looked at the drink before cocking her jaw to the side. “
Amara's POVOne. Silence. Two.Movement from the ground that settled a few seconds later. Three. Paranoia to every passing second that felt like an eternity for what was an encompassment of sixty seconds. Four. An eerie stillness that made every small sound from my restless body shifting in the car send my heart to pump overtime. Five. Not a second later and my feet were on the pavement towards the rear entrance he had taken. Just as my hand wrapped around the cold metal of the handle, I was pulled back by a brutal hand. “You're not going in there.” A familiar face from Jackson's brigade attempted to obey his boss's demands. “Try and stop me.” I tried for the door again. This time, he used both arms with a bruising force that gave me the motivation I needed to convince him to release me. “And how would Mister Maldori feel looking at my skin tonight and finding bruises because of you.” He clenched b
Amara’s POVI don't think I can ever get used to Jax Maldori. He is the alter ego of the man I held in my arms not even an hour ago. Jackson was shed and molded into this man dripping with confidence and commandments. His entire persona was demanding enough that not even security dared to check him for the weapons I saw him put beneath his sable clothes. And the women, they were openly ogling him. He scoffed to see me glare at one in particular that fixed her bust to appear more full for him and his response was to kiss my cheek and tug me tighter against him. “Focus, baby.” I fixed my own confidence as we came to a table layered with cigar smoke thick enough to choke on. I glared through the heaviness also affecting my eyes before he took a seat in the chair, guiding me onto his lap. “You know the rules, Maldori. No bitches while we play.” I went to speak but he pressed a firm hand on my open thigh under the table. “I'm not getting rid of my lucky cha
Jackson's POVIs it a problem that I prefer to stay awake long after she's fallen asleep just so I can admire her? The issue is that I can't decide if sleep is worth the lack of contact because my dreams are nothing compared to the reality of her. The scent of her hair and the memory of it wrapped around my wrist as I take her from behind. The satin skin in its perfect curvaceousness and the way she wears my marks so proudly. The trembling thighs and how they wrap around my waist or my face when my body begs to please her. The way her voice climbs to a crescendo in passion and defensiveness. I am enraptured. I am hopeless. I am truly a deviant for all this Amara Maldori. My cock is painful, tempted to slide between her legs in the middle of the night. If I hadn't already made her mine three times I would take her again. But her body was still recovering from how relentless we were to one another. I decided I was going to my office to ge
Amara’s POVIs it technically considered cabin fever if your walls of imprisonment consist of a six bedroom house on twelve acres? Because even if the sun came through the bay window of the reading nook I occupied more often than not or the food was prepared to the degree of award-winning, I was restless. The crutches were finally recycled last week and I was left with a heavy boot that made me limp from even the most basic of movements, and I was under intensive care of watchful eyes. None more precise than Jackson himself as he made it his mission to keep his focus on me throughout the day. “Baby!” He scolded as I was already halfway down the steps before he rushed to my arm. “I'm not glass…” I reminded but he didn't respond. We had already argued frequently about me being babied. He wouldn't even give me more than a peck on my cheek and that was with repetitive begging. In fact, this grip was the most intimate we had been for the last few months. “Y
Jackson’s POVThe problem with being obsessed with someone is that when they need to stand alone, you become disassembled from reality. You can't help but look at the time and its grueling pace, willing it faster until you can see them again. Even as the evidence of the time spent with her was still on my skin and in the sheets, I was itching to get her back here again. It wasn't going to be long, and it was necessary for her, but it still left me pacing since I pulled myself away from the sheets wearing her scent. One minute late wasn't a reason for concern. Thirty had me already dressed and moving towards my car in the private garage as Cutter's phone had gone unanswered along with hers. We allotted about an hour for the meeting which meant that she was already away from me for almost two. I tried to rationalize the silence as me overreacting, waiting for them to come through the door blaming traffic. But after fifteen minutes and my lack of patience, I was
Amara’s POVThree months later.I fiddled nervously with my recent manicure. Esmeralda insisted it would give me more respect but it had only become a nuisance since it dried yesterday.Everything felt out of place and everyone seemed to source me with a mutual sense of understanding- I did not belong here. Even if my maiden name was etched into the building towering over most in Boston, I was never meant to be at its helm. But with my father’s ‘disappearance’, I was the next of kin. This meant not only was I left to deal with the assets of his house, but also the business he left without a word. Until last week there had been a second-in-command. But since his death was announced in the paper, they were looking for someone to fill his rol
Jackson's POVHow did I manage from mauling her in the car? Your guess is as good as mine. If I wasn't already head over heels twice over for my wife, the way she was so brazen and jealous in front of Danielle was the solidifying property. Even now as she sat at my side in silence after I ignored her first question of where we were going, I had to touch her. My hand was set in possession on her thigh as if to keep her on the seat. All the while, I was fighting from making her paint my passenger seat with her cum for being a good little wife. But for the ways she defied both Cutter and me, she needed to learn there were consequences so she got silence and sexual postponement. There were three places I desperately wanted to take her. The first was too far away that I think my cock would actually burst if I had to wait that long. The second was close enough but was a bit too public for the depraved lesson she needed to learn. The third was going to be per
Amara’s POVMy feet couldn't move fast enough as I made my way into the lobby of the apartment complex. Still, it was fast enough to access the elevator without being stopped by the receptionist. The doors came closed in the final second and I began to transcend. Without a weapon. Or a plan. When the doors did come open, I found the apartment in a short disarray and the sight of motionless feet around the first corner. The same kinds of shoes all men in Jackson's line of work seemed to wear in their reflective sheen. I moved carefully around the corner before finding ironed pants stained with blood that came to an open torso riddled with even more crimson. Higher still was a face turned aside. As I lowered to verify who it was, a sudden force took me against them. A hand to my mouth and a thick corded arm around my torso, I was pulled to a familiar chest. It was made of the same stone that gave a contradicting comfort of a raging heart and a protective