Page 69 of Corruption
“Not when it comes to your child. I’m sorry, Jared, but this one I will handle,” he told me.
“It might not even be mine! She could have been with someone else the next day or the day after that!” I reminded him.
"I'm aware. But the small chance that it might be yours is enough to make me worry she might be able to sway you."
"Sway me? You think I want to be a father?"
“As I said, children complicate things,” he said with a small smile. He grabbed his shirt and walked back to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “But don’t worry, I will handle this.”
“How?” Vince walked away without answering me, leaving my heart pounding as I watched him go. “Vince, how?”
I gazed down at Alison, peacefully asleep in my bed once again. Surprisingly, I felt no anger. Instead, I watched her, extending my hand to gently stroke her cheek. She whimpered slightly in her sleep, turning to face away from me. A small smile tugged at my lips before I caught myself. I knew I should rest as well, but sleep wasn’t important to me. Instead, I reached for the lowest drawer in my bedside table, retrieving something I had hidden deep inside and not looked at for so long. I pulled out a small cut-out article detailing a tragic car crash involving a pregnant woman—Mason Rich’s wife. The accident had claimed the lives of both the mother and child. The article was old, but the emotions it stirred were as powerful as when I had first read it. She had been 14 weeks pregnant at the time, in her second trimester. There would have been something clear growing inside her belly, something with the potential to become something cherished. I knew I had been a fool for keeping it, but there I was, staring at the cutout, my gaze eventually drifting to Alison. I hadn’t grasped the connection Vince had tried to show me back then. I couldn’t comprehend what had caused me to lose my focus, the sharp edge I had maintained for years, only to make such a foolish mistake. But I saw it now. It was painfully obvious, and it made me feel foolish. I turned away from Alison, retrieving the lighter from my pocket. Stepping out onto the balcony, I closed the door slightly and approached the railing. A warm feeling washed over me as I recalled her words while I had lost myself in her body.
“A true manipulator indeed,” I murmured. I flicked on the lighter, then brought the edge of the article to the flame. Slowly, it began to burn. The flames spread, consuming the paper, and I let it go, watching it fall while it burned. Pain shot through me, but I buried it deep, along with everything else that had begun to resurface. I was Alison’s reckoning, not the other way around. Regardless of what she stirred within me, it wouldn’t deter me from executing my plan—to torment her and then let her go, finally setting myself free. Perhaps this marriage Vince had suggested was a good thing. Maybe it was exactly what I needed to have something to hold onto. However, there was one thing that wouldn’t happen—I wouldn’t become Astrid’s slave. There were certain boundaries that needed to be set in that regard, and I knew exactly how to do it.
Chapter 30
-Alison-
“Water,” Jared ordered, extending his hand toward me. I reached down, grabbing the water bottle beside me and handed it to him. He took a few hearty gulps before returning the bottle to me. Then, he returned to punching a punching bag positioned a bit further away. Jared had been acting incredibly unusual these last two days. He hadn’t touched me, and I barely even saw him, except when he brought me food. He had even stopped ordering me to cook for him. But late on this Friday evening, he had ordered me to accompany him, and we had walked to their private gym. However, this wasn’t a new scenario where he explored different ways to humiliate me or have his way with me. Instead, he simply instructed me to sit on a bench and watch him train, fetching him towels, boxing gloves, water, or whatever he needed for his training.
Sweat poured down his chiseled body, glistening on his back and shoulders as he wore nothing but training shorts. After becoming accustomed to being intimate with him daily, my body had developed a new addiction. As I watched him move fluidly, my mind briefly wandered. What would it be like to be taken by him while he was still sweaty, in the high of his beast mode? To be completely consumed? I mentally chastised myself, recognizing these thoughts as dangerous territory. Had I just momentarily fantasized about Jared? Jared! I shuddered and shook my head, telling myself to get a grip because this was how it all started. He had warned me that I would become obsessed with him, desiring him, craving him, and it was already beginning. It hadn’t even been two weeks, and I was already having fantasies. Fear began to spread within me, and I quickly averted my eyes to avoid staring at the tantalizing sight in front of me. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out any visuals, but the sound of his fists connecting with the punching bag conjured vivid images of him in my mind, causing my clit to pulse. I bit down hard on my lip, attempting to distract myself with pain, but it only seemed to intensify everything. What was wrong with me?
“Alison!” Jared called out, snapping me from my thoughts. I turned my head, seeing him in front of me, boxing gloves in one hand and the other extended.
“What?” I replied.
“Towel,” he ordered. I reached for it in his bag and handed it to him. He began to wipe the sweat from his body. My eyes tracked the motion involuntarily, and I couldn’t stop myself. Jared noticed where my gaze had landed, and I felt my cheeks redden as I averted my eyes, but I caught the smirk playing on his lips.
“Patience, my eager little plaything,” he taunted before tossing the sweaty towel at me, hitting my face before dropping into my lap.
“That was uncalled for!” I protested.
“What? You don’t appreciate the scent of my sweat?”
Jared reached out, grasping a handful of my hair, then pulled me closer. I found myself eye-level with his navel, an ideal position to suck his cock. My mouth involuntarily watered, a stark reminder of how effectively Jared had manipulated my body to bend to his will. I grew hot and eager, responding instantly to even the slightest suggestion that he might want something from me. However, he didn’t give the usual order to fulfill his needs. Instead, he drew me even closer, guiding my lips to his lower stomach, where a faint sheen of sweat still clung. I understood his intention—to tease me with his dark, musky scent.
As he pulled back, that smug smile still playing on his lips, I couldn’t help but let my tongue dart out, licking his sweat from my lips, savoring the saltiness. Jared’s smile faded, replaced by a burning lust in his eyes. He let his boxing gloves fall to the floor and reached out, running his thumb across my lips slowly before slipping it inside my mouth. This time, it didn’t feel like an invasion. It felt like a teasing, intimate gesture. I swirled my tongue around his finger before sucking on it sensually.
But then, something shifted in Jared’s eyes. I anticipated him ordering me to pleasure him next, but instead, it was as if he abruptly shut down. The lust vanished from his gaze, replaced by a cold, distant expression. I began to wonder if I was the only one acting strangely. Something was definitely amiss with Jared. Why would he let such a golden opportunity to use my eagerness slip away? He didn’t taunt me or berate me for my desperation. Instead, he stepped away, instructing me to fetch his belongings and follow him.
I complied, quickly zipping his bag, and together we walked back to his room. Jared remained silent throughout the journey. He simply went into the bathroom to shower. I went to the closet to place his bag down, and as I unpacked, I could hear the sound of running water. When he emerged from the bathroom, naked and dripping wet, my heart began pounding as delight surged through my veins.
Fuck me!I thought, quickly averting my eyes.
I listened as he got dressed, and when he finally called out to me, I turned to see him wearing much more formal attire: dress pants and a white shirt. He tossed a dress in my direction, leaving me bewildered. It seemed like a normal dress. It was black with long sleeves and a slight slit in the skirt, but it would cover me decently.
“Is it see-through?” I asked, examining the fabric.
“No,” he replied, sounding perplexed.
“Is it edible?” I continued, trying to make sense of the situation.
His confusion deepened. “No?”
“So, it’s just a dress?”
“It’s just a dress,” he confirmed.
