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Richard The III
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2021-12-04 23:00:10“Any last words?”
Staring down at his wife, Vincent smiled softly. Her face bright with a nervous blush. Lips red and bitten. Cracked, dry. Hair tangled where his own hands had wrapped. Mock neck blouse covering the blossoming bruises from his teeth creeping up her chest. Skirt creased where she had sat on his lap. She smiled back. Leaned towards him invitingly. An invitation he found rather difficult to refuse. “It’s not too late to leave,”
“We’re already here, Blue,”
“That’s for me to worry about,”
“You stole my line.”
“You weren’t using it.”
“No one likes a smart ass,” Quickly, he took the woman’s face in his hands. Pressed his nose to hers. Breathed her every breath. Considered kissing her, stood at her mother’s doorstep. They’d be on the awkward first date they never had. Vincent would walk her to the door, fingers brushing, far too shy to twist his hand with hers. He would wrap her in his coat; give her a reason to telephone him
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“You and your uncle seem awfully close.” Blue froze as Vincent spoke, halfway through shrugging off her jacket. He had been silent the whole way home. She’d considered fleetingly that he was upset another man had been attempting to slide a hand beneath her skirt. Though some part of her knew he wouldn’t have known unless he’d gotten to his knees and looked under the table. He hadn’t. Was he jealous? “What’s that supposed to mean?” “He’s more interested in who you have to marry than Richard is and you’re marrying the fool,” “Am I?” Suddenly, Vincent paused. He eyed his own two rings carefully, perched on the woman’s finger. Warmed by the sun where they’d been stored in his car cupholder. Catching on the afternoon through the windows. “Maybe you should.” “If that’s how you feel I think it’s a little late for that.” “I have to show you something,” While Blue hoped rather earnestly the man was about to unzip his trousers and present himsel
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Hugged his sides with her knees as he scooped her onto the kitchen counter. Sighed in recognition as his hips rocked into hers and he pressed her with the very bulge in his trousers she was afraid would shatter her resolve. And as the fingers of his left hand laced through hers and she felt the cool press of his wedding band against her palm, Blue considered surrendering to the man’s mouth, lips on her neck with the love she wasn’t so sure of. Flipping the hem of her dress from her thighs and over her stomach, Vincent braced between her legs with his fingers as he had over and over. Traced her through her dampened underwear. Braced her collarbone with his teeth. Eyes cast to the ceiling, Blue found it rather easy to forget the ceremony that had meant so much to her had meant so little to her husband. The stranger suckling on her exposed breast as though he was the child she would bear him. Wrapping his large hands around her shoulders as though he’d prized her as much as he’
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“Come to bed.”Blue glanced from the mirror, her hair cupped in one hand and a brush wrapped in the other. “In a minute. Let me freshen up.” She spoke quickly. Nervously.Richard’s house had been all she would expect. Timelessly decorated with cream marble and drapes, gold accenting the lot of it. Modern square edges replaced any baroque trims. White sheepskin throws hugged the couches. The master bedroom was much the same. Bright and heavenly. A dated French Provincial wooden chest wearing a marble chapeau sported a colossal paper-thin flat screen. The golden trim of the dressing table mirror fringed by a brilliant LED. Blue took note of how pale she’d gotten. The fur rug had more color.“I think your hair is brushed well enough,” Richard paused. Meeting the woman’s gaze in her reflection. She stared back coldly. He had always assumed their first night together would be their wedding night, the fact she&rsqu
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It had been three days since Blue had left, though not of her own accord. He’d woken as he had in the months before they met; rolled into the middle of his bed, stood after staring at the ceiling for a few moments. He’d shave. Brush his teeth. Sit alone at their café with an espresso that had gone cold with his fantasies of the woman sitting in front of him. Had she filed for divorce yet? Told her parents she’d been secretly married? Admitted her pregnancy? Did she sleep through the night? Or did she wake every few hours and roll over to throw an arm across the empty sheets half-asleep?He’d entertained visions of Richard’s half-limp cock laboring lazily into her. Wondered if they shared a bed. Wondered if she’d gone home or moved in with her fiancé. If she thought of him as often as he had. If she’d believed his lies of no longer caring for her—if she hated him as much as she ought to have thought he her. And wond
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As she made her entrance, hand clasped with Richard’s to keep her on a leash far more than it was to confess any fondness, Blue averted her eyes from the black hair she hoped rather earnestly wouldn’t be Vincent. It had been trimmed, cropped at the neck, she could see the loose waves falling around his ears in a way she wanted so desperately to run her hands through and tug at encouragingly. Screamed internally as her fiancé led her around the table.Taking a seat across from the man, she looked up rather reluctantly. Met his eyes. Stared at him with the same bewilderment he had. He’d shaven. A mustache hid his upper lip. Made him look so cruel in the very way that had always made her want to tear off her underwear and open her legs. His hair fell over his forehead. Bare cheeks looking rather gaunt, lined delicately with age. She could have laughed at the fact she felt they were meeting for the first time. Two altered versions of themselves.
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Instead, it became incredibly harder by the moment to recognize the man she’d never wanted inside of her more. The half of him so carefully hidden; the crook; the convict; the Vincent who now stood before her with no regard for her dignity. Yet she didn’t mourn the loss. Rather, wondered if the guilt that blossomed through her was on her fiancé’s behalf or because she simply didn’t care how callous her husband really was. She still loved him.Some sick part of her felt more deserving of him; the man who had given her nothing but the world. She’d been little more than a spoilt brat—had forced her boyfriend into marriage for her own sake, trapped him in a pregnancy, however well-intentioned she’d been. She finally felt equal to the man she’d idolized. He’d degraded her. Rejected her. All but kicked her out.So, she sat at his feet. Folded her own beneath her thighs. Dress creased in a circle around her
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It had been a day since her encounter with Vincent, yet the man continued to haunt her; his touch; various lingering queries. Was he thinking of her? What was he doing? Was he sleeping with any other women yet? Whether he was dating anyone was of little concern to her. She felt his mouth clamped over her sex far more than she’d like to admit; his vein-circled cock pushing inside of her steadily those mere three or four minutes before he jerked himself into a towel. Yet she still troubled over his confessions.He’d had the chance to admit he still cared for her yet said all he wanted to do was screw her. And he had. He had feigned his affections to bed her and discarded her again. She had let him. She worried she would again. Perhaps he knew all it would take was a half-intentioned I love you or I want you for Blue to disregard the week past she was yet to come to terms with. Some part of her felt she was stuck in some strange fever dream
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“How did you sleep?” Blue glanced up from her oatmeal, brown sugar, raisins, and rum extract. Richard’s favorite. She hated to admit she’d grown rather fond of it, too. The man was pushing around his own, dressed and ready for the day. He wore a crisp suit, a size or two too small just as all his others. Found it gave him an odd boyish charm. Again, she felt she had found a friend in the man. Would it be enough to build a relationship on?“Very well, I finally caught up from the night before.” She smiled. Having Anya with her had lifted her spirits. Somehow, she felt she had been taken back to the days of her childhood when Anya ran circles of the living room with her; the days Marian was out and about. Pure, uninhibited, childish fun. The most freedom she had ever or seemingly would ever feel. Yet she felt close with Richard. He allowed her the house to herself while he was away. Encouraged her to make use of his extensive library. Called
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Staring out at the living room floor, Blue saw a sight she never thought she would live to see: Marian playing with her grandson on the floor. It was unsettling, in an uncanny-valley way. Something so close to resembling human but just short of enough. She spun her engagement ring back and forth on her finger. He slid his arm around her waist. “’You okay?” She glanced up to the man stood at her side. His dark hair gathered into a short, thick ponytail. Eyes as bright as ever. Smile as devilish. Would it be so wrong to fuck like animals with her mother in the room next to them? After all, to a married couple, sex was the most natural thing. Or so she'd heard. “Yeah,” Blue sighed. Hugged her arms around herself. “I think so,” “How long is she staying?” “Until she can get the settlement money from Bradley,” “I didn’t think he had any left,” “It’s all
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It could have been hours by the time Blue came to. Usually, the state of her coffee would be a good indicator, but it had been stone cold for god knows how long. The sun was still up, if that counted for anything. She had left her phone at the house. Vincent was with the baby. She had stolen herself away for some quiet at the very café she had shared with both Vincent and Richard. Sat staring at her right hand where the engagement ring of the latter sat without a band. What was he doing? A thought that crossed her mind often. She hadn’t heard from him after the verdict, though still awaiting the sentencing. She had the thought that he was arrested for assaulting a police officer after his fiasco of escaping custody in the courtroom. Christopher wouldn’t have set any bail, would he? Not after he pretended to have been oblivious to his son’s sins. It would be hard to act surprised if he was actively helping his son as someone ought to. Vincent
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Blue stared at the city; Vincent stood at the counter behind her. The windowsill seemed to share her most pivotal moments more than even the universe shared them with her. Though her grief was one of the poorer-kept secrets of the world she felt marginally better whispering her thoughts to the brittle pane. Just as she felt gratitude Vincent had kept the apartment they’d outgrown with the baby for nostalgia’s sake. Or to bolster his net worth. Either one.She was muttering the same three words over and over. Repeated hoping that enough times would unencumber her or the rage that swelled with each inhale to expel them. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate… The world?“I should write him a very strongly worded letter.” She glanced to her husband, the man fiddling with a steaming tea as though debating which moment would be safest to present it to his wife. “But
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“It is found,” Blue glanced up at her husband, her arse feeling rather sore from the wooden bench. They had been sat in court for what ought to have been five hours at that point. The room smelt of wood varnish and stale air, having the look about it of a church with generous natural light and the buzz of Catholic choir. Only the silence rattled through much the same way any prayer would. “That the Commonwealth has proven beyond a reasonable doubt,” She had stared at the back of Richard’s head the whole time, if only hoping he would meet her eyes for just a second. She feared he thought no one in the room was on his side, a feeling she had become well-acquainted with over the years. Nothing seemed more dreadful than being carted off to prison with that same feeling. How strange it was to think that the man she was so sure she would murder given the chance had sat on the living room floor playing with her son just a day or two before. Staring into her husband’s deep green eyes, she w
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“So, I have a question,” Blue reached for her coffee, eyeing her maid. Well, she wasn’t her maid anymore. She was her mother-in-law. It was complicated. Pregnancy had somehow made her even fonder of coffee, maybe because she hadn’t had it. “Why did you tell me not to stay with Vincent when I told you I was pregnant if he was your son this whole time?” She couldn’t help but smile at her own sentence, taking a long gulp of the latte that had since gone flat. Vincent stared between the two silently. It was news to him.“I thought he was going to prison,” She simply shrugged. It was a good enough answer. Blue wasn’t sure whether Anya—Alfonza, as she had come to know—liked her all that much. “I thought I was doing what was best for everyone,”“So, you tell my wife to leave me?” Then came her husband’s booming voice, deep and accented. Ho
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Blue stared at the deep purple wrap dress in the mirror, sleeves to her elbows. Loosened the strings around her waist and tightened the knot again as though it would magically make her thinner. She was yet to properly mourn her pre-baby figure. She looked like a rectangle. A bloated, lumpy rectangle. Or so she thought quietly to herself. She tore the dress over her head.“I think we’ve found a winner,” Vincent entered the wardrobe quietly. Tried his best not to gawk at the woman in her underwear as though he’d never seen her half-naked before. Failed miserably. Wrapped his arms around her middle instead and pressed his mouth to hers. But she shoved him away. Turned back to the clothes instead.“We can’t do this, we’ll be late,” though she spoke as firmly as she could, she couldn’t help but smile softly to herself and blush as she leafed through her clothes without looking. The idea of let
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“It’s not fair, why can’t I go with Richard?” Vincent dug his heels in as he stopped behind his mother. Hoped a childish frown would move her enough to let her son be with his only friend. “I’m not a child anymore,”“I’ve seen the awful lot Richard hangs out with, you can either help me out for the rest of the day or go to the deli with your father,”“I’m a vegetarian.” He spoke expressionlessly.“Housekeeping it is!” Alfonza sounded a bit too cheerful for Vincent’s liking. Was it too late to call back the Taxi that had brought him straight from school? “Now find somewhere quiet to sit, I shouldn’t be any longer than an hour,”“I’ve got homework tonight, Ma.”“Then do your work here,” She smiled again. A bit too cheerful. Aga
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Her skirt was over her stomach in a matter of seconds, underwear kicked beneath the bed. Heart racing, fingertips beating in the tips of her fingers curled up into her palms, Blue spread her legs with no further instruction. Released a long, shaky breath as her husband hooked her legs over his shoulders and breathed into the inside of her thigh. But she stared at the roof. Watched the shadow cast by the lamp behind him loom over her, growing in size as he neared. And all she could feel was his hot, damp exhale fanning her center; his opened mouth quick to follow. “I still can’t believe I’m your wife.” She grumbled the words quietly, arching her back as his lips closed around her and his teeth grazed her labia. “I’m a lucky man.” He grumbled back, his voice twisting through her and carrying its echo deep into her stomach. “I can’t believe that you were so adamant you never wanted to see me again after your birthday party and now you’ve got your pussy i
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“Are you joking?” He had his wife’s face in his hands again, staring between her narrowed eyes with a look of expectation now not quite as well-hidden. “You actually went to the police?”“Of course, I did, all the love I had left for him went when I found out how much my mom actually cares.” She looked like she’d thought it rather obvious. Despite the fact she’d been defending him for so long. “He could be sentenced to death, and I’ll be happy to do it.”“You don’t mean that,” he’d released her, sitting back on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees. But she’d rocked forward. Wrapped her fingers through the sides of his hair. Met his eyes with a stare he wasn’t quite so daffy to break.“He told me it was my own fault Richard hurt me.”“But Richard’
