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Wickedly Twisted 22
GregoryRiker Corgan is sweating as he shakes my hand. "I'd say you overpaid, but, uh—" He clears his throat. Corgan's a heavyset man, bald, middle-aged, wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants. "I suspect you already know.""Consider the excess a friendly gesture. I'm aware of the risk you're taking by selling to me." I walk with him toward the conference room door. We're in a nondescript office I rented right in downtown. Bottles of water gleam in the middle of the table. I have the entire twenty-first floor, although only two rooms are furnished. "Do you need anything else?""A drink," he says, not smiling. "Something strong. And a plane ticket to Mexico.""I could help with both, but I suspect you have them well in hand."Corgan chuckles as I escort him to the elevators. We pass empty space for cubicles, empty offices, empty halls. "Can I offer some advice?" he asks, and he doesn't look like he cares whether I agree or not. I definitely don't give a damn what he has to say. He goes o
Wickedly Twisted 23
Allison"When I picture a nice walk in the park with my husband, this isn't really how I thought it'd go down." I lean up against Gregory, grinning up at him and batting my eyes. He gives me a hard look, not in the mood to play around. The Waterfront Park presses up against the river, and while the cherry blossoms aren't in bloom, it's still a beautiful stretch of grass and concrete. Groups of people jog, ride bikes, roller skate, and stroll in the sunshine.Nearby, about two dozen heavily armed men lurk around the trees and bushes looking absurdly out of place."Did you want to have that sort of relationship with me?" he asks, putting an arm across my shoulders. "I assumed you were more into the fighting and spanking.""It's nice to be treated like a regular girl once in a while, you know.""Should we plan a honeymoon then?""I won't complain. I could use a vacation for once.""Where would you want to go?""Paris," I answer immediately.His eyebrows raise. "Really?""I've never been
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AllisonI stare at the ceiling and try to remember the last time I spoke with Riker Corgan.It was probably at some industry thing, a party or a charity auction or something like that. But I can't seem to recall exactly when.Which is terrible. The man's dead—at least partially because of me—and I can't even recall what we last spoke about.Probably some inconsequential nothing.He was a business rival, but he was still a man. Now he's gone, murdered horrifically for selling to my husband.Sleep won't come. It's the middle of the night, a little past ten. My purple bed doesn't seem funny anymore now that the reality of my situation's become clear. Dead bodies, headless corpses, murdered businessmen. Corgan wasn't exactly a saint, but he also didn't deserve to get mutilated."You can't sleep." Gregory's voice drifts in from his side of the bed.I try not to look at him. I swear, he must hear my heart racing. "It was a stressful day.""You're not used to this. I understand.""You do? Do
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Allison"What if I told you to stop? Would you stop?""Almost anything then." His mouth lingers on my inner thigh as one finger rolls down my pussy, getting slick. "I can only give you what's possible.""And you couldn't possibly hold yourself back? I thought you had better self-control.""Oh, princess, you think I can control this? No, my sweet wife, when you look at me with those fuck-me eyes and you grind your gorgeous pussy against my body, there's no way I can stop.""Guess you're not as controlling—" He cuts me off by sliding two fingers deep into my pussy and leaning forward to press his forehead to mine. I curse, morning as he bites my lower lip, fucking me slowly with those thick fingers. He grabs my hair, kissing me deep."Don't misunderstand me," he growls into my lips. "Just because you wake something in me doesn't mean you're in control here.""I'd believe that if you weren't looking at me like you're about to lose your mind.""It's only because you look so fucking good."
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AllisonAfter that night, we fall into a comfortable rhythm.Gregory's almost never home. There's always a guard on the front door and another lurking in a car out front, but they rarely speak to me. When I go for a run, the car's following as close as it can. I stick to main streets where it's easier for them to keep close tabs.Orin's always in the house. He's busy, constantly running errands for Gregory, but available whenever I need something. Which isn't very often—as it turns out, being Gregory's wife in the middle of a war for the marijuana trade on the West Coast is actually kind of boring.I sleep in most mornings. I don't even notice Gregory getting into bed at night, and he sneaks out before I'm up. We run into each other like strangers passing in a darkened alley, wary and uncertain. The memory of that sex still lingers, lighting me up whenever I need something to think about in the loneliness of having nothing to do and nowhere to go, but the intimacy we felt fades away.
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Allison"Allison, you've been hiding in there for two hours," Orin hisses through my bedroom door. "Open up and talk to me. I'm freaking out!"I almost feel bad for him. I really do. Except I'm also freaking out and I have a really good reason for it.The tests sit on the edge of the tub. I can see the little blue marks through the doorway.All four are positive.And I'm spiraling into panic mode.No, I'm hurtling past panic into something worse.I'm firmly into desperation territory."Allison! I can hear you walking around. Will you just talk to me, please?"I don't respond. Even though Orin's my only friend here, I'm also very aware that he's Gregory's personal assistant, and ultimately his loyalty is with the Callahan family.My life is over. When Gregory finds out about this baby, he's going to freak. The guy's been avoiding me like the plague for weeks now, and when he realizes that he's stuck with me, that I've trapped him into this marriage with a baby, I'm terrified of what he
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AllisonThere they are, the pregnancy tests, lined up on the kitchen island like sandbags stacked against a storm. Except this time, the hurricane is Gregory, and I'm the poor beach about to get battered.He paces across the living room, hands behind his back. He won't look at me, and I'm terrified of what he's thinking. I didn't ask for this pregnancy—if I could go back, I'd make him put on a stupid condom. Better yet, I'd never sleep with him to begin with.I can't change what happened. I'm carrying his baby, and even if this was never a part of our agreement, I'm keeping this child.Gregory isn't the father type. He's made that obvious.Anything that restricts his freedom has to be annihilated.He's the sort of man that would rather run away than risk getting tethered in one place, even if it means turning his back on his family.Only he's caught in this war and there's no way he could escape now.Which means he's going to force me to make the most horrible decision imaginable.And
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AllisonI move out of our bedroom. By now, the purple sheets are gone, replaced by muted grays.Instead, I gather all my stuff and ferry it all into a guest room."Gregory's not going to like this," Orin says, fretting the whole time as he helps."I don't give a shit what that controlling dickhead likes or doesn't like.""I take it your conversation didn't go great?""Gee, what gave you that impression? Me moving from our room, or maybe the way I keep telling you what a piece of shit he is?""Both, mostly." He sighs as he puts my toiletries in the bathroom. "He means well. You realize that, right?""I don't care what he means." I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling more scared and alone than I've ever felt before. "He's not the pregnant one. All he gets to do is make big proclamations while I have to actually, you know, go through with all these changes."Orin lingers near the doorway, looking uncomfortable. "Look, uh, I don't know anything about being a pregnant woman, but—"I grimac
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