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

Dion parks in front of the house, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He’s staring straight ahead, the tension in the air palpable. “I’m so fucking sorry, Faye,” he murmurs.

I turn toward my husband, my gaze searching. “For what?” I ask, my voice soft. “For keeping a promise?”

He looks down, clearly unable to face me, and I think I understand why. “For enacting a threat that I never should’ve made in the first place.”

He runs a hand over his face and takes a shaky breath. “I know you love him. I shouldn’t have… fuck. I don’t deserve to claim you the way I did. I don’t even deserve to touch you, yet I still knowingly destroyed every last hope he had.”

He looks so remorseful, and it kills me. “I don’t love him, Dion,” I whisper. “I don’t think I ever did.” It’s something I’ve barely even admitted to myself, but I know he needs to hear it. “Being with him was an act of defiance, a desperate attempt to regain some control in a life I had no say over. It wasn’t about love — it was about freedom.”

He looks at me then, a flicker of hope lighting in his gaze. I smile as I reach for him, the tips of my fingers brushing over his temple. “If I didn’t want to get on my knees for you, I wouldn’t have, and you would not have made me. Being able to put your worries to rest like that made me feel incredible.”

Dion just stares at me, as though he can’t quite figure me out. There’s a hint of fear in his gaze, and I’m surprised I never recognized it before. If not for everything the girls told me, I may not have realized that I’m not the only one with impenetrable defenses. He’s as scared as I am.

“Come on,” I murmur as I undo my seatbelt. “Let’s go home. You made me another promise that I expect you to keep.”

I grab the bouquet Eric gave me from the backseat before heading toward the front door, my steps slow and my heart racing. When I finally hear Dion’s footsteps behind me, I exhale in relief, a smile making its way onto my lips.

“Faye,” he calls, but I don’t turn back. Instead, I head straight for our bedroom, knowing he’ll follow me. He pauses in the doorway, and I turn toward him as I destroy the first rose, letting the petals fall onto our bed. “Stop,” he urges, his voice rough.

I grin and shake my head. “I don’t want to.” I shrug as another rose is reduced to petals, and he takes a hesitant step toward me. “It took me far too long to realize it, but from the moment we got married, you’ve been catering to me, showing me this flawless version of you, almost like you’re trying to make up for the years of neglect and rejection.”

I see it now — he acts remorseful around me. The evidence is in the way he treats me with just a bit too much care, like I’m breakable. It’s in the way he quietly suffers as he watches me play his mother’s piano in his own home, and the way he searched through old photo albums for me when it clearly tore him up to do so. He acts like he deserves to suffer, when he’s just as trapped in this marriage as I am. He didn’t have a choice either.

I destroy another rose and watch the petals flutter to our bed, and he takes another hesitant step toward me. “That’s not the version of you I want, Dion,” I murmur, looking back at him.

Hope mixes with sheer reverence in his eyes, and it emboldens me. I take a deep breath and lay my soul bare. “I want the parts of you that you wish would never see the light of day. Dion, I want the man that promised me he’d fuck me on top of these rose petals. You don’t need to pretend with me, you know? I can tell you’re holding back, and I don’t want you to. I just want you.”

He pauses in front of me, seeming uncertain. “You don’t,” he whispers, as though he’s begging me to prove him wrong. “Baby, if you saw the darkness that hides inside me, you’d run. Rightfully so.”

I place my hands against his waistcoat and stare up at him. “So show me, Dion. Give me what no one else in my life ever has — give me a choice. Show me the worst parts of you and let me decide if I can live with what I find.”

His hand curls around my cheek, his eyes blazing. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I can keep up this act until we’re gray and old, Faye. For you, I would.”

I smile up at him and shake my head. “I want all of you,” I whisper, pleading, begging. I don’t want him to treat me like I’m made of glass, like he has to hide parts of himself around me. “I can take it, Dion. You told me you wanted to try with me, right? So try.”

His gaze roams over my face, as though he’s assessing the truthfulness of my words. He sighs and sits down on our bed. “You want the real me, Faye? You want the truth?” He smiles then, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fucking furious he was at your concert at all, and though you did good sucking my cock like I told you to, it wasn’t enough. I don’t give a fuck whether or not you were expecting him — the fact that he was there means you haven’t properly put him in his place, and that’s fucking unacceptable. You are mine. You wear my ring and carry my surname, but you still don’t realize who the fuck you belong to. I should’ve broken his fucking fingers to ensure he’d never lay a hand on you again. Next time, I will. You want the real me, baby? If he comes near you again, I won’t stop until he’s begging for his fucking life. I’ll make you watch as he bleeds out at your feet.”

I stare at him, a thrill running down my spine. Dion unbridled is a sight to behold. Perhaps his words should scare me, but they don’t. If anything, I just want to push him further. I want to see him lose control, just to prove to myself that he’d never hurt me, even if he’s more than prepared to hurt others. “Understood,” I murmur, my eyes on his.

He looks at me as though he expected more of a reaction and narrows his eyes. “I don’t think you understand at all, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes trailing over the gown I’m wearing, untamed fury blazing through his eyes. “But you will, Faye. It’s about time I make sure you’ll never forget whose wife you are.” His eyes flash dangerously, and he locks his jaw. “Take off that dress.”

I do as he asks instantly, desire rushing through me as the fabric hits the floor, leaving me standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of high heels. I’ve been wet since we left my dressing room, and I suspect he knows it.

Dion’s eyes widen when he realizes I’m naked under the tight gown I was wearing, and something that looks an awful lot like insecurity flashes through his eyes. “I couldn’t wear anything underneath without the lines showing through my gown,” I rush to tell him, desperate to reassure him.

He hums, as though he isn’t sure he believes me. “Come here.”

I step in between his legs, and he looks up at me, his expression hard as he cups my pussy, the heel of his hand pushing against my clit before he pulls his hand up, coating his fingers in wetness. “Did making your ex watch as you sucked your husband’s cock get you this wet?”

He slips two fingers into me, and I moan. “Yes, it did.”

His eyes flash with satisfaction. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “See? You do know how to be good sometimes. If only you’d been good for me the whole time, Faye.” His thumb flicks over my clit as he pumps his fingers into me, bringing me to the edge swiftly, only to pull his fingers away. I whimper in disappointment as he brings his fingers to his lips. “You see… only good girls get to come. Filthy little sluts like you? You just get used for my pleasure. You’ll please me, won’t you?”

“I’ll do anything for you,” I tell him, my words far more sincere than he realizes.

“Good girl,” he praises, satisfied with my answer. “Now turn around, spread your legs, and bend over. Place your hands on your ankles for me.”

My heart pounds wildly as I do as he asked, exposing myself to him in the most vulnerable way I ever have.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, leaning in. The feel of his breath on my skin makes my muscles contract, my entire body tense with anticipation. Dion drags his tongue over my clit, and I moan loudly, eager for more, but he pulls away and chuckles right before slapping my pussy, hard. I gasp, a new rush of desire concentrating between my legs. “You want my tongue, huh? What makes you think you deserve it?”

“Please,” I moan, desperate.

He leans in and places his lips on the apex of my thigh, right below the curve of my ass. A low, strained sound escapes the back of my throat when he sucks down, clearly marking me as his. “Mine,” he growls, before moving his lips an inch and doing it all over again. His fingers find their way back into me, and he begins to pump slowly, stroking my G-spot with every move, teasing, punishing.

“Please, Dion,” I beg when he pulls away just as he gets me back to the edge. I’m desperate to come, but he won’t let me. He just continues to mark my skin, his movements leisurely.

“You sound so sexy when you beg, baby. No one but me will ever taste this delicious pussy. It’s mine. You are mine. Say it.”

His tongue drags over my clit, and my muscles begin to contract, but he pulls away before I can come. “I’m yours,” I moan. “Only yours.”

His hands begin to knead my ass, and he chuckles. “Damn right you are.” He squeezes hard, and then he pulls his hand away, only to bring it down on my skin harshly, the sound of his palm hitting my skin loud in our quiet bedroom.

Pain spreads across my ass, and for a moment I consider shouting Yellow, but then the pain fades, leaving only a delicious kind of heat in its place. A low moan escapes my lips when he gently traces his fingers over my burning skin. “That’s for looking so goddamn beautiful that not a single man could keep their eyes off you at your concert,” he murmurs, his tone carrying a hint of anger.

He caresses my ass and places a soft kiss on my unharmed cheek, only to bite down on it moments before a harsh slap lands on that too, no doubt making both sides equally red. “This is for the roses, though I’m pleased with the way you destroyed a few of them.”

“Dion,” I moan. “Oh God.” I didn’t think this is something I’d be into considering the harsh punishments my father always inflicted, but it feels so good. There’s something so empowering about knowing that even his harshest punishments are designed to bring me pleasure. Despite his rough touch, I feel safe and cherished, and it makes me feel far more emotional than I thought it could.

Dion’s tongue brushes over my thighs, inching close but not nearly close enough to where I want him. “You want all of me, baby?” he whispers, his breath dancing across my pussy. “I’ll give you all of me.” His tongue begins to lap around my clit, and then he sucks down on it, making it clear that he’d mark me there if he could. My moans get louder, my pleas incoherent, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t relent until I’m at the brink of an orgasm, and then he pulls away abruptly, refusing to give me what I want.

“No,” I sob, desperate. “Please.”

He just chuckles, as though my frenzy amuses him. “Just be grateful I haven’t tied you up, wife. One day, I will. Piss me off again, and I’ll tie you to our bed and fuck you right to the brink of madness. Depending on my mood, I’ll either force you to come so many times that you’re begging for a reprieve, or I won’t let you come at all, keeping you at the edge until I give you permission to come.”

A thrill runs down my spine at the thought of it, and already, I’m thinking of ways to make him punish me like that. I don’t want him to be nice to me. I want him to treat me roughly and prove to me that no matter what I do, his worst will never truly hurt me. I want to push and prod until he shows me his demons, until he pushes me into that headspace where I can finally be myself — not the Windsor wife I was raised to be, not my father’s prim daughter. Just his. His everything.

In my peripheral vision, I see him grab one of Eric’s roses as I come down from the high he brought me to. He analyzes it, seemingly pleased with the way it’s still unopened. Before I realize what he intends to do with it, he’s got it pressed against my pussy, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he pushes it in.

“What would Eric say if he saw you right now, angel? Your pussy is swallowing one of the roses he bought for you so beautifully.” I moan, the soft feel of the flower only bringing a hint of relief. “I guess he did buy them for you to enjoy, and you’re definitely doing that, aren’t you?”

“Dion,” I moan, my tone a mixture of chastising and pleading. “I need you, please.”

He presses his finger against my clit as he begins to fuck me with the rose, his movements carefully controlled. “You don’t deserve my cock, but you’re taking your punishment so well that I might have to reconsider.”

“I need… I need to come,” I tell him, my breathing ragged. He doesn’t care — he just continues to tease until he’s successfully withheld another orgasm from me. Only then does he pull the rose away, letting it fall to our bedroom floor, another humorless laugh escaping his lips.

“You’re so desperate for my cock,” he murmurs, pleased. “Tell me, wife. Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” I reply instantly. “It belongs to you, Dion.”

He hums in approval. “I’m so proud of you, Faye. You’re doing so well, but surely you realize that you deserve to be punished for enchanting me? You make me want things I swear I’d never even dream of, and now I’ve had a taste of you, I can never go back to my life before you. You’ve fucking ruined me.”

I gasp as his hand comes down on my skin again, harder this time, the tips of his fingers slapping against my pussy, and it’s exactly what I needed to push me over the edge. A loud moan escapes my lips as my entire body contracts, my knees giving in. My mind goes blank, and Dion catches me, holding me in his arms as the strongest and longest orgasm I’ve ever felt tears through my body, his name on my lips.

“I’ve got you, my love,” he murmurs. He kisses my forehead as I tremble in his embrace, his touch so gentle that I’m on the brink of tears. I’m not sure why I’m so emotional today, but he just makes me feel so safe.

“You okay, baby?” he asks when my breathing evens out. I nod, and he nips at my earlobe. “Good, because I’m not done with you.”

The moment my body stills, he turns me over and throws me onto our bed, his gaze burning with the same need I feel. “Tell me. Did I give you permission to come, Faye?” he asks, his voice rough.

I lie back and shake my head, my gaze eager as he unbuckles his belt. My pussy spasms in delight when he takes out his cock and I spread my legs for him eagerly, but he shakes his head.

“Only good girls get my cock, angel.” He climbs onto our bed and kneels in between my legs as he strokes himself, his eyes on mine. I reach for him, but he throws me a chastising stare. “You want me to fuck you, huh?” he murmurs.

“I need it,” I admit, my tone frantic. “I need to feel you inside me. Please.”

He smiles at me, his lips parting as he gets closer. “You should’ve thought of that before you came without my permission.”

His eyes fall closed as he comes all over my chest and stomach, the sound of his moans making me shiver in delight. He may not have been fucking me, but that was all for me. I know it.

Dion smirks as he looks down at me and grabs a handful of rose petals, a dangerous look in his eyes as he drops them on top of me. I watch him as he reaches for me and massages them into my skin until I’m a mess of rose petals and him.

Then he grabs his phone and takes a photo of me, legs spread, desire dancing in my eyes. “Beautiful,” he whispers. “This,” he says, turning his phone toward me to show me the photo, “is going to accompany me on every trip I have to go on without you.”

He drops his phone to the bed and leans over me then, his lips finding mine. I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally kisses me, his touch gentle and caring, and so very much in contrast with his earlier roughness that it brings tears to my eyes all over again. He pulls back a little to look at me, his gaze dark. “I think I’m in love with you, Faye Windsor. If ever there was a chance I’d let you go, it’s gone now. You are mine, and you will be for the rest of your life. There’s no hiding from me. There’s no place you could go where I wouldn’t hunt you down.”

I smile at him, oddly pleased by his words. This is what I wanted — the real him, every last depraved inch of him. “I can live with that,” I murmur, answering his unspoken question. “Because I think I’m in love with you, too.”