Keep Me

“Yes, I have a couple of hours now.” My words come out low and husky as a familiar surge of arousal hardens my cock. I love seeing her like this, all out of breath, with her skin damp and glowing. It reminds me of how she looks after a particularly messy bout of sex. Of course, the fact that she’s wearing only a pair of running shorts and a sports bra doesn’t help. I want to lick the droplets of sweat off her smooth, flat belly, then throw her on the nearest mat for a quick fuck.

“Excellent.” She gives me a huge smile and hits the ‘Stop‘ button on the treadmill. Then she hops off the machine, grabbing her water bottle. “I’m ready.”

She looks so excited that I decide to hold off on the mat fucking for now. Delayed gratification can be a good thing, and I did carve out this time specifically for her training.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s go.” And taking her hand, I lead her out of the house.

We go to the field where I usually work out with my men. At this time of day, it’s too hot for serious exercise, so the area is largely empty. Still, as we pass by, I see a few of the guards surreptitiously staring at Nora. It makes me want to rip their eyes out. I think they can tell—because they look away as soon as they glance at me. I know it’s irrational to be this possessive of her, but I don’t care. She belongs to me, and they all need to know that.

“What are we doing first?” she asks as we approach a storage shed in the corner of the training field.

“Shooting.” I give her a sideways look. “I want to see how good you are with a gun.”

She smiles, her eyes gleaming with eagerness. “I’m not bad,” she says, and the confidence in her voice makes me grin. It seems that my pet learned a few things in my absence. I can’t wait to see her demonstrate her new skills.

Inside the shed are some weapons and training gear. Going in, I select a few of the most commonly used guns—everything ranging from a 9mm handgun to an M16 assault rifle. I even grab an AK-47, although she might be too small to use it with ease.

Then we go outside to the shooting range.

There are a number of targets set up at different intervals. I have her begin with the closest target: a dozen empty beer cans propped on a wooden table some fifty feet away. Handing her the 9mm, I instruct her on how to use it and then have her aim at the cans.

To my shock, she hits ten of the twelve cans on her first try. “Dammit,” she mutters, lowering the weapon. “I can’t believe I missed those two.”

Surprised and impressed, I have her try out the other guns. She’s comfortable with most types of handguns and hunting rifles, hitting most of the targets again, but her arms shake when she tries to aim the AK-47.

“You would have to get stronger to use that one,” I tell her, taking the assault rifle from her.

She nods in agreement, reaching for her water bottle. “Yes,” she says between sips. “I want to get stronger. I want to be able to handle all these weapons, same as you.”

I can’t help laughing at that. Despite her generally easygoing nature, Nora has a strong competitive streak. I’ve noticed it before, when we did that three-mile race on the island.

“Okay,” I say, still chuckling. Taking the bottle from her, I drink some water and then return it to her. “I can train you to get stronger as well.”

After she practices shooting a few more times, we return the guns to the shed. Then I take her to the indoor training gym, to show her some basic fighting moves.

Lucas is there, sparring with three of the guards. Seeing us enter the room, he stops and respectfully nods at Nora, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on her face. He knows by now how I feel about her, and is smart enough not to display any interest in her slim, half-naked form. His sparring partners, however, are not that wise, and it takes a murderous glare from me for them to stop gaping at her.

“Hi Lucas,” Nora says, ignoring this little interplay. “It’s good to see you again.”

Lucas gives her a carefully neutral smile. “You too, Mrs. Esguerra.”

To my annoyance, Nora visibly flinches at the moniker, and my mild irritation with the guards morphs into sudden anger at her. Her reluctance to marry me earlier is like a festering splinter at the back of my brain, and it doesn’t take much to bring back the way I felt at the church.

For all of her supposed love for me, she still refuses to accept our marriage, and I’m no longer inclined to be reasonable and forgiving.

“Out,” I bark at Lucas and the guards, jerking my thumb toward the door. “We need this space.”

They clear out within seconds, leaving me and Nora alone.

She takes a step back, suddenly looking wary. She knows me well, and I can tell she senses something amiss.

As usual, she can guess what it is. “Julian,” she says cautiously, “I didn’t mean to react like that. I’m just not used to being called that, that’s all . . .”

“Is that right, my pet?” My voice is like brushed silk, reflecting none of the simmering fury inside. Stepping toward her, I lift my hand and slowly trace my fingers over her jawline. “Would you prefer not to be called that? Perhaps you wish I hadn’t come back for you at all?”

Her huge eyes grow even larger. “No, of course not! I told you, I want to be here with you—”

“Don’t lie to me.” The words come out cold and sharp as I drop my hand. It infuriates me that I care about this at all, that I let something as insignificant as Nora’s feelings bother me. What does it matter if she loves me? I shouldn’t want that from her, shouldn’t expect it. And yet I do—it’s part of this fucked-up obsession I have with her.