The Sacrifice: Chapter 36

Three years ago

“What do you want, Ty?” Whitney asks, entering my bedroom.

I close the door and turn to face her, leaning back against it. Her hands are on her hips, one pushed out, and she’s wearing a tight white minidress. She’s dressed this way on purpose. She’s ignored me for two days now since she slapped me and ran out of my room. She waited until after nine this evening to respond to one of my many messages. Which means she’s going out tonight with her friends and she wanted to make sure she dropped by on her way. A little “fuck you, Tyson” attitude.

“How do you feel?” My eyes drop to her flat stomach. She can’t be more than six weeks, if it’s mine, considering she’s only been my chosen for not even two months now. But the fact that all of my condoms had holes in them, I hate to say the odds aren’t in my favor.

“Fine.” She lowers her eyes to look at the floor.

“Going out tonight?” I ask.

“Bethany is having her birthday party.”

“Sure that’s a good idea?”

Her eyes narrow on mine. “I’m not going to be partying. Just going to see my friend.”

I walk over to her, placing my hands on her waist, and pull her body flush with mine. “I don’t think you should. It’s not safe for you or the baby.”

“Like you care.” She scoffs. “According to you, it’s not even yours.”

“It better be mine,” I growl, my hands tightening on her waist.

Her eyes light up with excitement at my possessiveness. Whitney is easy to read. She’s explosive with her emotions. If she doesn’t vocally tell you, her face will. She wraps her arms around my neck. “I promise it is.” Her lips are so close to mine but not touching.

“Stay with me tonight.” I press mine to hers, but she keeps hers closed, not letting me in. My hands drop to the hem of her dress and slide it up her legs.

She pulls her face back from mine. “I made plans—”

I cut her off, kissing her, this time forcing my tongue into her mouth, and I almost smile at the taste of vodka on her breath. I’ve been on the fence about her being pregnant, but this confirms my suspicion. I do believe she’s trying to get knocked up, though. The question is why?

Gripping the material, I pull it over her head, forcing me to break our kiss. Tossing the useless dress to the side, I look over her standing in front of me with only a nude-colored thong and heels. Her nipples are hard, and her breathing is erratic.

“Let me spend all night telling you I’m sorry,” I offer, my hands going back to her hips. I lift her off her heels, tossing her onto the bed.

She smiles, looking up at me, and I know she won’t be leaving here until morning. I’m going to tie her little, lying ass to my bed, and I’m going to fuck her mouth and her ass. But not her cunt. I’ve got a plan for that, and she’s going to be very disappointed.

My cell ringing pulls me out of that memory and I see it’s Colton. “Yeah?” I answer.

“We’re about to pull up,” he states.

“I’ll meet you down there.” I hang up and pocket my cell. As I go to leave my office, I take one last look at the TV hanging on the wall and see my wife serving tables. My eyes go to Collin and he’s leaning on the back two legs of his chair, his eyes on her ass as he watches her do her job.

LAIKYN

I’m so fucking pissed my heart is still racing. But I’m not even sure what I’m mad about. The fact I didn’t know that my sister and Tyson were engaged? Or the fact that Collin and his friends made fun of me about my marriage to Tyson? I didn’t choose this life. I sure as fuck would have never chosen Tyson as my husband.

I’m also not one of those girls who believe you marry for love.

That rarely happens in our world. Now I’m not saying that Lords and Ladies don’t end up falling in love with one another after they’ve been married. But I’ve seen too many marriages where they still hate one another when their kids are forced to marry someone they don’t want.

I guess I hate myself the most. That fact that I always dreamed of a different life. A special kind of love. That’s for fools.

The club closed an hour ago, and we’re all cleaning up. Thankfully, Bethany has ignored me tonight. The club was packed, and we’ve all been busy with our sections. Plus, there was a fight that broke out in VIP. Security threw three guys out and the girl they came with.

I put my tray of glasses up on the bar and look over at the round booth in the corner. It’s where Tyson always sits while we clean. But he’s not there tonight. I haven’t seen him since I stormed into his office and demanded answers that he, of course, didn’t give. I guess his silence was my answer.

“Have a good night, Lake,” Beau calls out.

I wave at him, knowing that my night will, in fact, not be good. I’ve had a plug in my ass for six hours—is that even healthy—and I’m about to get fucked by my husband, who I insulted by saying his dick was small. Which was, of course, a lie. It’s not small by any means. I know Tyson well enough now to know that he’ll make it as painful as possible. Margaret bled the first time she did it. I’m guessing that will be my experience too.

Making my way to the elevator, I shake my hands and take in a deep calming breath. It doesn’t work as it climbs higher. I take it to the fourth floor and enter our apartment. It’s quiet, the lights off. I walk down the hallway to the bedroom with my heart in my throat.

Pushing the door open, I see the light is on, and he’s already in here, standing by the long dresser with his back to me. “Get undressed,” he commands without even looking up at me in the mirror.

His words instantly piss me off all over again. “I’m going to shower.” And I’m pulling this damn plug out whether he likes it or not.

He turns to face me, and he has pieces of rope fisted in his hands, so long they puddle at his feet. He tosses them onto the bed. My heart picks up, but I square my shoulders, refusing to let him think I’m intimidated. No matter how much I am.

Giving him my back, I go to enter the bathroom but drop to my knees when a shock goes through my body.

I’m gasping, on my hands and knees when I see his shoes come to stand in front of me. Sitting back on my legs, I look up at him through watery lashes and suck in a deep breath. I reach up and yank on the collar, letting out a scream of frustration. He fucking shocked me.

“I gave you an order, Lake,” he says calmly. “I expect it to be followed.”

I get to my shaky legs and glare at him. I fist my hands to keep from slapping the shit out of him. It’ll probably just get me a beating. But I honestly don’t think he’d ever hit me. Tyson has other ways to make you do what he wants. Case in point, the collar wrapped around my neck.

Grabbing my shorts, I shove them down my legs. Then I kick off my shoes and unsnap my leotard before pushing my fishnets down my legs. I yank the leotard up and over my body before throwing it across the room and stand before him, naked and chest heaving. I’m so angry with him for making me his Lady. And mad at myself for allowing this to happen.

I hate the fact that he’s fully clothed in dress slacks and a button-up. It makes me feel more vulnerable. He always does this. It’s a reminder that he’s superior, and I’m his slave.

I remove my wedding ring from my finger and lift my hand in front of his face before I drop it to our feet, not caring where it ends up.

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and what should make me terrified, gives me butterflies in my stomach. He’s already decided how to make me pay for the fit I threw earlier. I’m just making it worse.

He steps into me, and I cower, my fear getting the best of me. I drop my head, unable to meet his stare. His hand softly touches my cheek, and a whimper escapes my parted lips as he gently guides my head up so I’m forced to look at him.

His free hand runs down my heaving chest and waist before dropping between my legs. He gently runs his fingers along my pussy before lifting it to his lips. “You’re wet, Lake.” He places them in his mouth, tasting them, and my eyes grow heavy. “You may hate me for what I’m about to do to you, but I promise your body will enjoy it.”

His words make my pulse race. But I manage to swallow the lump in my throat, and whisper, “I already hate you.”