Chapter 1 April

I came awake in the early hours of the morning and put out my hand to reach for my husband. It was chill in the room and I missed his warm,, hard body.

But Gaston was not beside me. The grey dawn filtered in through the blinds. I sat up slowly and looked around me. My short shift had ridden up during the night and my hair was a tangled mess, tendrils around my face.

Looking towards the window, I saw him, standing still and oblivious to the fact that I was awake.

Shaking my head, I rose slowly.

I made my way to the window where he stood, his powerfully muscled upper body bare. He was staring out through the blinds, his thoughts far away and I stepped up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, kissing the broad back of the man I loved.

Ever since he had shot Shark before me, that terrible night, there was a brooding quality about Gaston. He would stare into space when he thought I was not watching him, looking bereft and broken.

It was only understandable. Shark had been his closest friend, almost a brother. They had grown on the same streets of Hollowford, had suffered abuse of one kind or the other. While Gaston's mother had been a cheap prostitute, Shark had had an alcoholic father who had sexually abused him. It had been Gaston, still, a teenager, who had beaten up the man so badly that he had never touched Shark after that.

To think that Shark had tried to destroy our family, that he had been about to kill me, which was why Gaston had shot him dead, was a huge weight on my husband. He tried to disguise the pain of betrayal but it was evident.

Now he grunted, turning to scoop me into his powerful warm arms.

"Come to bed,' I whispered, running my hands over his chest, leaning forward to lick his flat nipples, something that he could never resist.

'Witch,' he grunted, his shaft hardening as I continued my ministrations, my hands busy with his body, leaning up to kiss his hard mouth,

"Witch,' he groaned, eyes alight with desire as I slid to my knees before him, onto the thickly carpeted floor.

He looked at me in the dim morning light, his pale blue eyes hot with want as I parted my lips and whispered,

"How do you want to take me?'

Gaston

His breathing was harsh as he stared at the woman who had changed him in so many ways. She had shown him how to love and as she waited on her knees before him, the classic pose of a submissive, he felt his shaft rear, his heavy balls tightening as he ached to plunge himself into her.

She slowly took off the light cotton shift she wore when she was sleeping. He caught his breath sharply, the sight of her large full breasts never failed to rouse him.

When she had been feeding their third child, Claude, he would lie beside her, calmed by the soft songs she hummed as the baby suckled at her generous breasts. He would lean forward, kissing her mouth hungrily. A strange feeling of possessive pleasure in knowing that they were his, this magnificent woman, their children. He had claimed her for his when she had been eighteen years of age and he had ready been in his late thirties. The age gap between them was great but the bond had become stronger. They had gone through a lot, had been on the brink of separating on more than one occasion but had always gravitated towards each other again.

He stood now, watching her, the adoration, the trust, the love shining in her eyes as she waited for him to react.

He hated himself for having ruined her life; she deserved better, she deserved a man who would love and cherish her, a man who worked an ordinary day job, someone who would take the family on outings on weekends, maybe.

Not a criminal lord like him.

Not someone because of whom she would also have to live a life of fear.

Angrily, the thoughts swirled in his head for all he could think of as he stared at her pretty face turned up to him, all he could think of was to hold her down and violate her sweet pus*y. he wanted to use her to satisfy himself for that was how he had been before she tumbled into his life bringing with her, her faith in him, her innocence, her light.

He wanted to slake his lust on her, again and again till she begged for mercy and then some. To use her soft, pliable body to slake his hunger for her which he knew was bottomless. This woman held him in the palm of her little hand but she worshipped him with her body, her eyes and he hated himself. Because he knew he was not worthy of her.

He was a selfish bastar*, a monster who only knew how to kill, to take roughly.

And she?

She gave generously, wholeheartedly. Asking for nothing in return.

April

I watched the expressions chasing each other on Gaston's face. the coldness of his eyes, the harshness in the set of his mouth as his lips twisted cruelly. I knew that I should be afraid of the smouldering anger within him, for he could hurt me without wanting to. I knew he was hurting after what Shark had done.

But most of all, I knew he was living in fear of any harm coming to us, the three children we had and I.

And I loved him helplessly, wishing I could assuage the pain he carried around like a smouldering volcano.

The cruelty lurking beneath that cold exterior vanished when he was with me but sometimes, when we were in bed, I sensed the fury he was holding back with difficulty.

But I was unafraid

I loved him.

I was prepared for anything he would do to me.