The Unwanted Marriage: Dion and Faye’s Story (The Windsors)

Faye whimpers as I pull away from her just slightly, only to fall back asleep instantly. I can’t help but stare at her, my heart at ease for the first time in years. I’ve never felt quite so satiated, so fulfilled. Being with her was everything I thought it would be, and more.

Our marriage might not be what we wanted, but perhaps my brothers were onto something after all. When I’ve got her in my bed, there’s no distance between us. With time, I might be able to eradicate any distance outside of our bed too.

I carefully move to the edge of our bed, only to freeze as I lift the covers, the morning light illuminating dark stains on our sheets. Several moments pass before realization dawns, and I stare back at my wife’s sleeping form in shock. Fuck. How could I not have realized? The pain she so clearly felt was beyond what was normal, considering how many times I’d already made her come. I’m a complete fucking idiot.

I should’ve stopped straight away, but instead I selfishly continued to fuck her, taking her virginity without even knowing it. I should’ve slowly stretched her out using my fingers until I was certain she could take me, but instead I made her first experience one filled with pain.

I’m trembling as I slip out of our bed and reach for my discarded boxers, my stomach twisting. I fucked up, and I have no fucking idea how to make it better. I’m in a daze as I walk toward the kitchen, where a fresh pot of coffee is already waiting for me, courtesy of my grandmother’s spies masquerading as housekeepers.

I’m absentminded as I knock back half a cup, unable to think of a way to make it up to her. What the fuck do I do? I should’ve cleaned her up last night and ensured she wasn’t in any pain, but instead I simply turned us over, my cock still buried deep inside her as we both drifted off, my arms wrapped around her. It had felt perfect to me, but for her, it must’ve been beyond uncomfortable.

“Dion?”

I look up to find Faye standing in the doorway, my shirt enveloping her body. I stare at her in fucking awe, barely able to comprehend that she’s my wife.

“I’m… I’m sorry… I just… I haven’t unpacked, and your shirt—”

“My shirt looks perfect on you,” I murmur. “In fact, I think I should give all of them to you. They look far better on you than they ever did on me.”

Her eyes widen a fraction, and then she laughs. I stare at her in disbelief, my heart skipping a beat. Fucking stunning.

I walk up to her and gently lift her into my arms, startling her. I carefully carry her into the kitchen and place her on top of the counter, my arms on either side of her. “Forgive me, Faye,” I plead, my voice breaking. “I didn’t know.”

She lowers her gaze, but I still notice the guilt in her eyes. “Are you mad at me?” she asks, her voice wavering.

“Mad?” I repeat, confused. “Why would I be mad, baby? If I’m mad at all, it’s only at myself. I never wanted to hurt you, angel. If I’d known, I’d have been more careful.”

She wraps her arms around herself and stares at the floor. “Perhaps mad isn’t the right word. Are you disappointed, Dion? I know I’m not… I’m nothing like the women you’re usually photographed with. I have no… experience. The things you did to me… I don’t know how to make you feel the same way.”

“Faye,” I whisper. “Please look at me.”

She does as I ask, and my heart drops when I see despair in her beautiful blues. I smile at her and shake my head ruefully. “There’s no real way for me to say this in a polite manner, but I have never come harder than I did last night, buried deep inside you. That was the single best sexual experience I’ve ever had. If that’s what you do to me with no experience, I’ll be well and truly fucked once we get to know each other’s bodies better, hmm?”

I watch as she bites back a budding smile, and I can’t help but grin back at her. She isn’t someone I even wanted to like, yet here I am, slowly becoming increasingly entangled in her web. Every little thing I find out about her becomes another chip in my defenses.

“How do you feel?” I ask, feeling oddly flustered. “Does it… does it still hurt?”

Her eyes widen a fraction, and her cheeks turn rosy. “It’s all just a little sensitive,” she murmurs, unable to look me in the eye. She’s fucking adorable. It’s primitive and fucking wrong, but knowing that I’m the only one who’s ever had her pussy fills me with such intense delight. Mine. She truly is entirely mine.

My satisfaction slowly evaporates as I think back to the first time I saw her with Eric, and my stomach twists painfully as the pieces fall together. “At The Lacara,” I murmur, my voice strained. “You’d been planning to give him your virginity?”

Faye’s eyes widen, fear and apprehension flashing through them. My heart sinks when I realize what she’s leaving unspoken. I took what she’d wanted to give to Eric.

I avert my gaze, unable to look at her right now. “I see,” I murmur, more to myself than to her.

“Dion,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I…”

I turn my back to her and take a deep, steadying breath. Of course she wouldn’t have wanted to share something as special as that with me. I run a hand through my hair, sick to my stomach. I’ve taken so much from her already, but this is something that should’ve been hers to give. If she’d had a choice, she never would’ve chosen me.

She and I both know it.

“I don’t regret it,” she whispers. “I’m glad it was you.”

I glance over my shoulder and force a smile for her. “Me too,” I murmur. At least that much is true. For a little while, I let myself get caught up in her. I allowed myself to forget that everything I touch decays.

This is exactly why I didn’t want to marry her, why I’ve been running from her for so long — because she deserves better. Despite that, something dark and twisted spreads through my heart, reminding me that she’s mine now, that her body will never know anyone but me. I glance at her, barely able to suppress my need to carry her to our bedroom and fuck her until my name is the only word she remembers.

I try to resist, but I find myself walking back toward her, my anger simmering as I take the mug out of her hands. “Faye,” I murmur, my hands cupping her cheeks gently, my tone laced with desperation. “I gave you one chance and you blew it. I will never again show you the leniency I showed you then. Do you understand?” My voice is soft, deceiving. “I’ll be good to you, baby,” I reassure her. “I’ll be the best husband you could ever ask for — so long as you remain a good girl for me. Fuck with me again, and I’ll punish you.”

“H-how?” she asks, her voice quivering. “How would you punish me? Would it be like… like last night?”

There’s something in her eyes I can’t quite read. Fear. Curiosity. Trust. One of my hands moves to grab her chin, and I press my thumb against her lips, pushing them apart. She opens her sexy mouth a little further and softly bites down on my thumb. It reminds me of that time I stood in her dressing room, telling her that I didn’t want his name on her lips, and just like that, my cock hardens, like it did then.

“If I find out you’ve so much as dreamed bout him, I’ll force you to your knees and make him watch as you choke on my cock,” I threaten. She makes a soft delicious sound in the back of her throat, and my cock jerks, begging for her touch. I meant for it to be a threat, but she looks like she’d enjoy that.

I tighten my grip on her chin, and her tongue brushes against the edges of my thumb, as though she’s trying to show me how she’d suck my cock. Is she trying to drive me fucking wild? I thought I’d scarred her last night, but instead, I seem to have lit a fire in her.

“I don’t want to punish you, beautiful, but I will if I have to.” I let go of her cheek and slide my hand down her body, leaving it resting on her thigh. My words don’t seem to deter her at all. My usually meek wife looks at me with defiance in her eyes that only spells trouble. “If you do more than dream of him, I’ll tie you to our bed and canvas every inch of your body, leaving a kiss mark on your skin for every single word you spoke to him. I’ll mark you for the whole world to see, Faye. I’ll turn you on beyond reason only to leave you desperate. I won’t let you come, my darling wife. I’ll keep you right at the edge until you remember who you belong to, until you’re begging me for forgiveness. You don’t want that, do you? You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

She nods, her gaze eager, as though she truly wants to please me. I smile at her as my hand moves between her legs, only to find her dripping and bare underneath my shirt. I was so scared I’d damn her, but fuck, the devil dances in her eyes just as he does in mine. She’s perfect for me.

I gently stroke her clit, and her eyes widen, a soft hiss escaping her lips as she jerks away. Her confidence fades, and she looks at me with such utter vulnerability that I immediately want to do all I can to reassure her.

I gently brush my hands over her arms, the gesture soothing. “You’re sore, angel,” I murmur. “Let me draw you a nice warm bath, hmm? It’ll make you feel better.”

She looks hesitant, the trust she’d shown me earlier gone now. “I won’t touch you,” I promise her. “I will never hurt you, Faye. Not unless you want me to.”

It’s a lie, of course. I’ve already taken so much from her, and whether I like it or not, simply being with me will end up hurting her.

It’s a lie, but maybe if I say it often enough, I can deceive us both.