Covet Not (4 page)

She
took a drink of wine.

“Ah.
I imagine so. You don't–” He took a deep breath and looked around the room,
eyes meeting his father. He turned back toward her, face extremely annoyed.
“You don't have to fear me. I'm not my father. Not even close. But, when I'm in
the presence of my father, I'll be who I need to be.”

Shula
frowned, confused. He was different in front of his father. “Who will you
need–sorry!” Impertinent.

His
blue eyes danced as they looked in hers. “I'll need to be more like him, of
course.”

Properly
in love, yes. His bride. He would make her understand later. Hopefully she
would let him kiss her again.

Hopefully
he could make her repeat the sound she made right before he painfully pulled
away.

He
didn't understand why she was so submissive right now. She'd come in, clearly
in protest, but now it seemed the fight had left her.

Had
she won? Jared hoped she felt victorious. While he might not be the biggest
prize around, he wasn't a psychopath. He would do his best to ease her
transition. He'd been without a wife, on his own, so he did know how to care
for himself. Maybe he could care for her if she allowed it.

“Did
you want me to go wash this off?” Shula asked hesitantly. People were avoiding
them, surrounding themselves around James. Probably offering condolences.

“Don't
you dare,” he said with a bit of humor.

She
was startled by his quick reply. He continued. “Besides, it doesn't look like
it would come off. What
is
it?”

She
cut a glance toward James and saw that he was looking away. She gave Jared a
little smile. “My mother's ashes.”

IV

James didn't feel
anything in particular on the way home. He was only five minutes from the
church, but he took the long way, enjoying the coolness of the air with his
windows down to his Cadillac. It was when he walked in the house that it all
went awry.

Selene,
the lovely brown girl that kept his house in order, including falling to her
knees when commanded, asked eagerly after his bride.

Apparently,
she thought she was off the hook, and now she never would be.

Well,
that had been his intention.

Selene
was used to rough, and he deliberated while she was on her knees, expertly
mouthing his cock, wondering if it was worth it to find another maid, once she
hadn't come back.

He
had a good thing. So, did she. He paid her more than she deserved, but he
needed her discretion. He didn't feel like seeking another. Sometimes it took a
while to build up such a concordant situation, particularly molding the expectations
of the help.

James
sighed. Maybe a bit of rough would suffice.

It
wasn't until he had her laid out nude on the rug in front of the fire in his
bedroom, legs spread impossibly wide, black hair fanned along the rug, and his
fist pummeling deeper and deeper inside her, that she spoke. “I didn't have
time to tell you, but there's going to be a baby. This might be too much.”

James
stopped his fist and considered. She was either a liar or a whore and a liar. A
lie he could take. He wouldn't abide a whore. “You are certain?” Calm.

She
took a deep breath, relieved. “My menses was late, so I went to the doctor the
next town over. He suspects six to seven weeks.”

“When
were you going to tell me?” He wanted so badly to move his fist.

“Tonight.”

“That's
a lie. You weren't going to say anything. Not when I was taking my bride to
bed.” He started moving his fist again, startled that her hips rose to meet
him. He pushed in harder because that was unacceptable.

“I
was going to try,” she breathed out unsteadily.

“Are
you sure the baby is mine?” A harder punch.

“Of
course. Who else?”

“That's
what I'd like to know.” He pulled his hand out and pushed roughly inside her.
He put a hand around her neck. “Seeing as I'm not able to have any more
children.”

He
squeezed, preventing her from speaking. He found he wasn't angry, but pleased
that she deserved this. He was going to stop right before she passed out, like
he'd done many times previously. Maybe take it just a second closer. But, it
all felt so good. Her cunt loose and yielding. Nothing in the world was better.

He
didn't like a tight pussy. They were manipulative. They would clench and
squeeze deliberately, but mostly any harsh move caused them to grip him like a
vice. And that would break his concentration. He liked to push it toward the
point of atrophy, then he could enjoy himself.

He
had prepared her cunt so well that every squelch made him even harder, and he
didn't realize how hard he was squeezing. He took no notice of her struggling
body.

She
went completely lax beneath him and he hissed his pleasure. He looked up at her
face and he faltered. Her look was completely vacant, her hands slack around
his wrists. He hadn't even noticed that she'd tried to stop him.

He
slapped her face several times, still brutally fucking her. He threw her foot
towards the fire, where it remained motionless. He realized then that she was
dead.

But
he wasn't
done
yet. He couldn't just
stop
.

If
she was dead, and far too soon for rigor mortis, she would be completely
compliant.

Completely
open for him. He nearly came at the thought. He could feel tightness around his
cock that wasn't completely there to control him.
Yes. Oh, yes. That.

He
pulled out and turned her over. He nudged her cheeks apart, and she was still
soaked from the fisting. It nearly reached her lower back. He tried to press
gently into her completely unyielding hole, and he was all the harder for it.

He
normally didn't like this activity. If he thought pussies were controlling,
this particular hole was her psychotic sister with a boa constrictor.

He
arranged her knees underneath her, and pushed at her backside until the head of
his cock was sucked in. He stilled, reminding himself that he was in control,
and pushed in roughly. It was so tight.
So
tight.
He couldn't
wait to fuck it useless. He battered poor Selene's bottom until his cock was
chaffing and her hole was absolutely gaping.

He
came. For quite a long time. He fell on top of her, pretending that she had
just fainted, and let sleep take him.

He
slept on top of the dead girl for nearly an hour. When he awoke, he left her by
the fire, while he took a long hot shower. He'd just made more work for him to
have to do at a ridiculous hour.

Once
he dressed, he would check the light in the guest house to make sure Jude was
asleep. Then he would redress her, and carry her down to the Colorado River. It
was fast moving for all the rain they'd had, so she should travel fairly
quickly to the bay if she didn't get caught on anything. Which was a strong
probability. She would be rather mangled by the time she was found, but her
being found was highly unlikely. The Colorado was like a snake. It seemed to go
in every direction at once, and entirely flanked by overgrown trees.

It
would be quite a trek for James, but this was his problem alone. It was only a
quarter of a mile behind his property, but he'd never carried a body during
that sort of walk.

In
a couple of days, he would call the police to report her missing. He would say that
she had been here to greet him when he got home from the church, and that she
was gone when he awoke. And that she hadn't returned.

He
would tell the police that he figured she went back to west Texas, but he
wasn't certain. It was so hard to find good, dependable help.

It
took him an hour to get down to the river, and he was supremely irritated. He
was cold, exhausted, and it was difficult to throw her. Her limbs were
stiffening, so he found a drop with a break in the trees. He would need another
shower.

He
laid her on the ground and rolled her off the side. He couldn't see to the
river below, but he heard the body hit the water. He would come check in the
morning, to make sure there wasn't any evidence left.

As
he began walking back, he saw a light flickering in the trees. It took him a
few moments to realize that it was Jared's house.

Where
Jared would be, and his bride. A bride in which James should be breaking right
about now. He started walking toward the light.

Shula
was certainly going to be uncontrollable, and he wondered what strategy Jared
was going to use.

He
didn't have much confidence, though. He expected to come upon a dark, quiet
cottage, without any movement.

The
thought sickened James.

The
closer he got to the cottage, the more careful he became. Jared didn't have any
dogs or motion sensors, which would be useless with the various wild animals
setting them off, but even loud footsteps could be heard over the crickets.

He
was out of the tree line, and knew that was foolish, but his son wasn't very
bright. He'd just turned the porch light off when James was one hundred yards
back.

He
walked quietly towards the small house and stood near the side window. The
window was cracked, and a sheer curtain diffused what little light was in the
room. He could see bodies moving, but it was hard to discern what exactly was
happening.

He
curled his lip in disgust at the silence. He waited another quarter of an hour
before he began to walk away, but the sound of a headboard slamming against the
wall stopped him. Had he gagged her? Surely it was painful. Maybe Jared was a
bit like his father and cut off her ability to make any noise at all. He should
probably give him some pointers later.

A
scream split the air, followed by intense sobbing, and James' chest filled with
pride. He wished he could see the results of that.

He
took his time walking home. All his boys were married off except Jude. He'd
found him a bona fide blonde, not that he would appreciate it. Her eighteenth
birthday was approaching. He usually liked to get them younger than that, but
Jude had only just turned nineteen, and James had hoped he'd grown out of
proclivities once he'd passed puberty.

James
was beginning to come to terms that his son could pass as a girl without any
difficulty. But he still had a dick, and that's all that mattered to James.
Continuing the line, preferably with a mess of towheaded grandchildren.

He
blamed himself sometimes. He probably shouldn't have choked Grace so much when
she was pregnant, but the other boys turned out fine. Well, he'd only started
after the second, and Josiah and Jared seemed to be fine, so logically he
couldn't blame himself. He'd read somewhere that these anomalies were in the
mother's genes, and that made more sense to him.

He
could see the lights of his lovely farmhouse, with its wraparound porch, and
rustic stone chimney. Those two things were additions that he had made. This
house had been built by his grandfather and he was loath to give it to Jude.
His three oldest enjoyed the city. Jared loved Agnes Oaks, that much was
obvious. He would give it to whomever could give him the most grandsons.

Jude's
light was still off, and James breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want Jude
to know he'd been out. He was debating whether to let Jude know about his
wedding in a few months or to surprise him with it. James didn't like spending
much time with Jude. He left him unsettled and uncomfortable. Jude had never
once looked him in the eye, even after multiply chastisements of 'Pick your
head up! Stand up straight!'

But
he was a hard worker. He and a handful of farmhands managed several thousand
acres. It made sense to leave the farm to him. He would see.

Jude
was defective. But if he continued the line, James would look past his disgust.

He
stepped onto the back porch and looked out at all his moonlit land. It was
paradise. The city was full of the stench of people without an ounce of pride,
uncaring of their environment or their history. They may as well live in the
States. That would slow the tide. Maybe they would need to open up the borders
temporarily to allow them to flee to New York City or San Francisco. He would
make an appointment with the committee to see what could be done. Something
needed to be done soon or there will be too many with different ideas of
Utopia. These people with pride in their country and not wanting to leave it,
but to change it. James would not stand for it.

He
ceased that thought before it sullied his good mood. He was bone deep
exhausted, but needed another shower.

As
he showered, he realized that he would need to prepare his own breakfast
tomorrow. He frowned. Maybe old Mrs. Lionel would see fit to bring him
something since his errant maid decided not to show up.