Bad Little Bride

“I made a mistake.”

“No shit.”

My head whips Mino’s way and he laughs. “Hey, I told you to put a future date on your contract. Let her finish the Elite program and have her come home graduation night.”

“And I told you that was a stupid fucking suggestion.” As if I would wait two years to claim what I worked so hard for.

“And look at you now.” Mino grins. “Of course, the wife of Enzo Fikile shoots for the shit of it. Just a fun, simple way to get her point across.” He chuckles.

A small smile breaks through my concern. “A natural little empress,” I murmur.

“So what are you going to do?”

I stare at the ripples in the water below, slowly pushing off the banister. “What I should have done the day she arrived.”

Mino grabs my arm, halting me, and I can see what he wants to say in his eyes, though he hesitates to speak the words aloud.

“Just say it, Mino.”

“I know she’s your wife, but she’s angry and she’s told you point-blank if she could go back, she would.”

“She won’t.”

Mino regards me a long moment. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because her eyes don’t lie.” I glance at my reflection in the tall windows, staring at her lips marked into my skin. “Even when her words do.”

She wants me. Wants this, but my little bride is afraid, and fear is not something she’s accustomed to.

Boston Revenaw was born into this world and raised a warrior princess, the importance of bravery and courage written into the very code of her DNA.

Fear? Fear wasn’t allowed, and I can’t even say for certain she realizes that’s part of what she’s feeling, but it is.

My wife is afraid of nothing but fears the thought of losing me.

That’s not okay with me.

With that thought, I leave Mino sitting there and head into the kitchen.

Based on her typical routine, she won’t wake for another two hours, so I take my time, cutting up her favorite fruits and sneaking some protein-infused sweet cream in the center of the strawberries.

I smirk to myself. If she won’t eat the nutrients she needs, the staff and I will just have to get creative.

Stepping up to the stove, I put the saucepan over the flame, quickly adding water and sugar before giving it a good stir and waiting for it to come to a slow boil. Turning back to the fruits, I plate what I have while I wait out the fifteen or so minutes for the sugar to caramelize.

Just as I’ve got the berries piled, the mixture turns the perfect golden brown, so I remove it from the heat, adding heavy cream, a dash of salt, followed by vanilla extract to finish it off. I give it a few moments to cool and add two Boston-sized servings into the pourer.

“Mr. Fikile, you have perfected the recipe.” Fredrick, our personal chef, walks in, stepping right up to the sink to wash his hands. “It only took, what…fifty burnt batches to get it right?”

“Funny man, Fredrick. I only burnt about fifteen, and that was all in the first week she returned home.”

My chef laughs at me, and I ignore him as I step back, looking down at the plate with a frown.

Fredrick walks around then, scrunching his nose at my arrangement, which admittedly, is nothing more than a mountain of strawberries with cream and blueberries in a distorted circle around it. “Allow me to do the plating, sir?”

“I guess I’m shit for the arts, aren’t I?” I move over, allowing him to slide in.

He takes a spoon, scooping the sweet cream spilling from the tops of the stuffed strawberries, and adding it to what looks like a triangular bag. He sets it aside, takes a wet cloth to the sides until there’s nothing but a shiny red, and then uses the excess cream to make perfect swirls at the tops, just the way Boston decorates her cappuccino. He piles them to one side of the long rectangular plate, adding two small dipping bowls, filling one with chocolate sauce and the other with mini chocolate chips.

From there he takes random shit from the fridge, and in the end, I have a plate full of every berry known to man, and even a few fresh roses stick out here and there.

“That’s…”

“It’s okay, boss.” He admires his work. “You can say pretty.”

Scoffing, I shake my head, and he spins to the oven, revealing a plate of sausages and mini quiches.

I sigh in relief. “Thank you, Fredrick.”

The old man chuckles. “Shall I have someone take everything up?”

“I’ve got this one.” Hands full, I make my way to the grand master suite.

I know she’s still asleep when I slip into the room, so I quickly set the food and caramel down, looking at my file of saved security footage of her to figure out how to work the damn espresso machine, brewing her drink just the way she likes it.

The blankets rustle, and I peek back, my hand freezing over the control panel on the wall as I zoom in on her bare leg, now poking out from under the sheet.

This angle makes her toned, dancer’s legs look longer, mix that with the thickness of her thighs and it gives her this devilish sort of softness. The kind that makes your teeth ache to bite and fingers twitch to touch.

I press the button that pulls back the windows, every inch of glass disappearing, leaving the balcony wide open and allowing the morning breeze to roll in over the lake.

I move the food to the patio table, arranging her caramel so it will be easy for her to grab with her dominant hand. The moment I look up, her eyes flutter open, fastening right on mine, and I don’t dare break the contact.

There’s something about being the very first thing those hazy green eyes are seeing this morning that has me instantly addicted to the feeling.

My obsession with her only grows deeper.

“Good morning.” Slowly, I rise to my full height, keeping my eyes on hers as I walk back into the room.

She says nothing, not looking away from me as I move over to the espresso machine, taking her cup in my hand. But I don’t deliver it bedside, I carry the steamy mug to the balcony table, feeling her eyes trailing my every step. Sure enough, when I spin, heading toward her, she’s watching.

As I lower onto the edge of the bed, she rolls onto her back, gazing up at me, and my chest inflates when nothing but our eye contact and proximity has a flush crawling up her neck.

Reaching out, I run my knuckle along the heat of her skin. “You’re exquisite.”

“You’re an asshole.”

My mouth curves to one side and I nod. “True.” My gaze flicks up to hers as I lean down, not missing the way her breath hitches as I zero in on her lips, only to turn toward her temple at the last moment. I let my mouth linger there. “But I’m your asshole and I have been for a long time.” I pull back, meeting her glare, and continue. “It’s true. I’ve been yours since before you knew who I was.”

“Lying gets you nowhere.”

“Wrong.” I stand, holding my hand out for her to take.

Hesitantly, her palm meets mine and I lift her from our bed, staring down at the tiny thing before me. My bride. My wife. “Lying, if we’re calling it that…gave me you.”

Boston

Lying gave me you…

A small frown builds along my brow, and Enzo traces it with his thumb as he takes me by the fingertips, leading me toward the patio.

The closer we get, the more my feet drag in awe.

It’s surreal, how wide open the space is with every inch of glass suddenly gone, the carpet swapping to textured tiles on the fifty-foot-wide terrace, fit for a king.

My head tips down the moment my feet cross the threshold, sliding my toes along it.

“The floor is heated,” Enzo confirms what I suspected I was feeling.

I smile a little, next looking out over the giant lake that makes up all of the Fikile estate.

“Sit.” He tugs out the chair, so I climb into the plush, oversized seat, folding my legs beneath me. My robe slips and as I fix it, I catch him watching, his gaze dark as it trails across the silky number, pausing on the green swirls.

A small buzz zips across my skin. I can guess what he’s thinking, but I don’t ask and he doesn’t say, having something else on his mind he clearly intends to talk about.

Rather than scooting my chair in, he moves the entire table closer to me, taking the seat opposite of it. “For you.” He motions to the gorgeous fruit platter and steamy drink before me.

Silently, I fix my espresso the way I like, conscious of my actions more than normal with his attention focused on my every move. I pour an ungodly amount of caramel on top, licking across the tip after.

“You torture me, Little Bride.”

Freezing, I lift my eyes…and then I do it again. Slower. More deliberate, and a shiver runs through me at the wicked smirk he gives in return.

“So.” I attempt the most impassive tone I can manage. “You said you don’t lie, yet now you’re saying lying gave me you.” Wrapping both hands around my warm glass, I draw it to my lips. “So, which is it, Enzo? Are you a liar or not?”

As fast as his smirk came, it goes, a wall of armor taking its place. “I’m not a liar,” he says so simply, but it’s the way he pauses that tells me there’s more and he wants me to ask what it is.

It takes him two minutes to realize I don’t plan to do as he hopes, so he starts talking.

“A little over a year ago, I told every man who would listen that I wanted what Rayo Revenaw had to give, knowing the word would get around, which was my intention from the start.”

“I know this story, Enzo.” I stretch my back, rolling my neck slightly, his eyes tracking my every move. “We were put under high protection for months after you announced your plan to take my father down.”

“No. You don’t know this story.” Enzo places his elbows on the table, leaning over until his large frame nearly swallows the space between us. “And you’re clearly not understanding what I’m trying to tell you, so I will say it again, slower this time. I wanted what your father had to give.”

“His empire.”

“His daughter.”

I tug my head back, eyes narrowing on the man across from me, trying to make sense of his words, but all that I’ve got is, “What?”

Hazel eyes bore into mine with a fiery intensity that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing. “I didn’t want his name, or money, or the gateway to take my work across territories. Despite what you’ve been told, I already have that. All I wanted from the very first fucking time his name left my mouth…was you.”

My heart skips a beat. And then a second.

I forget to breathe as I stare at the man across from me.

The man I researched, studied, and tracked down. The man I risked my life to approach, betraying everything I was raised to stand for when I went behind my father’s back to make a deal with the man who wanted to kill him.

I was already a sinking ship and I threw my lifeboat overboard by simply meeting with the man in front of me.

My sister shunned me.

My so-called friends turned their backs on me.

My father had never known such disappointment.

And it only got worse after Enzo signed the marriage contract, officially accepting my offer.

I was “delivered” when demanded, only to be locked in a room and left there for three months, only seeing my husband-to-be’s face the day my father came for a wellness-check visit.

And then when my father came to take me home, Enzo let me go without so much as a “see you later,” having no idea it was my father’s intention to ensure he never would.

I lost my chance at being a Greyson girl when I was five and my sister outperformed me in every area, academically, mentally, and physically.

I lost my mother when I was eight.

My sister permanently moved into the Greyson Manor right after that for her training, leaving me with a father whose work never ended, so I poured myself into dance and got into a prestigious academy of my own.

And then their doctors gave me a physical that crushed my young soul.

After that I danced until my body decided the lean frame I was born with wasn’t the one I’d die with and rebelled against me.

My entire life has been small ups and enormous downs, yet I’d never felt so weak and worthless in my life as I did the day it was clear that I, the subpar daughter, couldn’t even keep the man who wanted everything having me meant he’d gain.

“Bullshit,” I breathe, maybe too low for him to hear and definitely in slow motion, but then I blink, and the fog clears. I shoot to my feet, slapping my palms on the tabletop and leaning to meet him in the middle.

“Bull. Shit,” I force past clenched teeth, my eyes slicing between his. “I don’t know what kind of lies you were forced to feed your last bride to make her fall in line, but I am not her. I’m not a weak fucking princess in need of pretty placations.”

“No.” His eyes hold mine. “You’re not. You’re a queen who deserves to know how far her king was willing to go to have her.”

“Enough!” I scream, my hands swiping across the table and sending everything crashing around us. Glass shatters, splintering across the space, and I jerk around the table, porcelain crunching beneath my bare feet.

Enzo’s eyes widen and he jumps up, lifting me by the waist and spinning me, then setting me on the tabletop. I slap him across the face, sending his head snapping to the side. When he comes back, his glare is wild and he hauls me closer. “If I look at your feet and find a single speck of blood, I swear to you, I’ll⁠—”

“I don’t give a shit what you do, Enzo, so do what you want! Do your worst, and make it hurt because it can’t possibly be worse than the pathetic fucking position you tricked me into, and I want nothing more than a way out!”

Enzo’s entire body goes stiff, only to go lax a split second later. His hands fall away from me, and he takes a step back. He stares right at me, a million emotions brewing in his eyes. “You’re right. I did trick you. I tricked you when you had no idea you were being tricked.”

“That makes no sense! You seem to be forgetting that I found you!”

“How.”

My brows snap together, eyes shifting between his. That doesn’t sound like a question.

Why doesn’t that sound like a question?

Wait.

Enzo is nodding slowly before the thought can fully form. “It’s coming together now, isn’t it? How Nicholas appeared in your class one day, how he reminded you what his uncle contributed to this world of ours, how he decided to move here, leaving his life behind to follow in his footsteps.”

Pieces of my conversation with Nicholas the other night come back to me.

“It would’ve been more believable if he would have made you sweat a bit.”

“Come on now, boss.”

My eyes snap up to Enzo’s, narrowing in confusion. “But I hired him to find a way to you.”

“Yes,” he says. “And I hired him to give you that very idea in the first place.”

What does that mean?

Why would he do that?

What the actual fuck is he saying to me right now?

As if I spoke out loud, as if he has the ability to hear my thoughts, Enzo answers all those questions with a single response.

“I led you right to me,” he whispers. “And I would do it again, and again, but what you seem to be forgetting is that I don’t have to.”

Long, coarse fingers latch around my forearm, drawing me forward and ignoring my attempts to tug free. He flips my wrist, lifting until my left hand is in front of my face, the ring sitting there shining in the early morning light. “You’re mine now. Always. Indefinitely.”

“Or I could stab you in your sleep, leave, and never look back.”

Enzo chuckles, the lack of fight in my tone obvious to my own ears.

Slowly, he presses forward, his knuckle gliding up under my chin as he tilts my head back, keeping our gazes sealed. “You know what a knife can’t cut, a bullet can’t pierce, and a fire can’t burn?” He slides his lips along mine, and I shiver at the feeling. “Love, baby. So, tell yourself you’re not mine, fight me, push me, but it won’t matter…because you’re going to love me either way.”

My lips part on a sharp inhale and Enzo swoops in, swallowing the sound with his mouth as he takes mine captive. Prisoner.

He enslaves me with his lips alone, an invisible chain wrapping round my neck, leashing me to him.

His licks are angry lashes against my own, his touch hard and possessive, claiming with every slide of his palm along my skin. Over my hip and up my ribs, along my arms and lower back until he reaches the nape of my neck, where he squeezes. He presses me to him so hungrily, I can’t fucking breathe, but I don’t even care. With every swipe of his tongue, I fall deeper into his darkness.

When he finally breaks away, it’s only to growl against my mouth. “You’re mine, Little Bride.” He gathers my hair in his fist, tugging gently so our eyes meet. “Everything I am, everything I have, is already yours.” His right hand slides down my stomach, taking the tie of the robe with it, but halting just before the point falls open. “So take from me. Take what only I can give you. Take what we both know you want and fuck everything else. The rest will follow.”

I hold his gaze, my heart thundering in my chest. Need pulses through my entire being, tiny little sparks flickering across my skin and making me jumpy.

I’m on edge.

I’m on edge and this man is dying to catapult me off the cliff.

There’s so much to figure out…but what’s a few more hours going to hurt?

I say not a damn thing, so when Enzo’s tongue slides across his lower lip, I flick mine out to meet him.

Those hazel eyes grow dark, and when his hands find my hips, lifting, I go willingly. My legs wrap around his waist, the warmth of his skin through his top like lava against my needy pussy.

I know he can feel how wet I am from his kiss, and the deep rumble of his chest as he pushes on my ass, grinding my lower half against his abs, tells me I’m not wrong.

Enzo takes slow steps backward, not stopping until his ass meets the balcony railing. He tips his head, teeth closing around my lower lip and dragging along until it pops free. Just as fast, his face disappears into my neck, kissing and sucking, and I’m a moaning mess in his arms.

“Those sounds.” He groans, this time dropping my hip down until I feel how hard he is beneath me.

I gasp, pressing into him, and he growls, biting my neck. “I can’t wait to hear what my name sounds like when you’re moaning it.”

“Didn’t think it was possible, but you sound even more confident this time around.”

“Fuck yes, I am.”

A grin pulls at my lips, and he nips at them once more. It’s…almost sweet, playful in a sexy sort of way that makes my smile want to grow wider, but I forget all about that when he latches onto my thighs in a firm grip that has my muscles tensing.

Slowly, he pries my legs from around his body, holding me when he realizes my limbs are too loose for me to stand on them on my own.

There’s a sheen of satisfaction in his eyes as he stares at me, and he doesn’t dare look away, keeping our gazes locked as he pushes me forward a single step.

“Tell me why you bought this silky thing.” He fingers the hem of the robe, his hands disappearing beneath it and ghosting along my skin.

“You already know. You knew the minute you saw it.”

“Hmm,” he hums in agreement, a slow smirk building across his lips. “I did, but I want to hear my bride say it.”

“I knew you would like it,” I admit. “Since it matches the bedding and all.”

He’s full-on smiling now, and it would almost be daunting if the sight wasn’t so exquisite. “You thought of me when you weren’t with me. I like that and I love this.” He bunches the material in his fists, eyes closing briefly.

“In that case, I should leave it on.”

His eyes snap open, a tiny threat woven in them, but there’s humor there too as he begins to slide himself down. He transfers my hands to the railing, our gazes snared as he goes lower and lower, until his ass is on the balcony floor, his back to the rail, my fingers locked around it on either side of his head. Palms wrapping around my ankles, he gently tugs, silently asking me to lift my legs, and lowers them on the outsides of his thighs, my bare feet brushing against his slacks, because of course he’s already in a suit and I’ve only just woken. Rough, heated palms slide along my thighs, squeezing and massaging. My body bucks at the simple touch, and his fingertips twitch in satisfaction.

Enzo leans forward, taking the sash of my gown with his teeth, but his movements are too slow for me, so I draw my hips backward, and the last little loop untangles. The robe falls open, revealing what’s underneath.

Absolutely nothing.

But Enzo, he doesn’t look, his pupils blow wide, his jaw clenches, and I know his peripheral is strong enough to tell him I’m bared to him, if he couldn’t feel that on his own already. Regardless, his eyes stay on mine. “I know what you need, but I’d like you to tell me what you want.”

“Are they not the same?”

Hazel eyes burn into mine and slowly he shakes his head. “Not to me.”

This moment, it feels a little too…intimate. Too heavy.

So, I shimmy my shoulders until the gown falls from my body, trailing a thumb along Enzo’s lower lip. When his mouth closes round the tip, his tongue swirling there, my eyelids flutter and my core clenches tight.

“What I want is what you’re offering.”

“I’m offering everything.”

I shake my head, locking my hands over the rail once more. “No.” I tip my head. “You’re on your knees, metaphorically speaking, so why don’t you stop wasting both of our time and get to work?”

“No moment with you is a wasted one.”

My brows crash, a nervous flutter I don’t like stirring low in my stomach. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

The confusion creasing his eyes tells me the question is not mocking, but rather genuine.

The fluttering doubles until my toes curl in.

“I’m wet, Enzo,” I snap, lifting my left leg outward, slowly rising until my toe is pointed to the sky, just before I hook myself over the railing. The green in his eyes flare, his hands on my skin trembling with desire. “Make me drip.”

And then I push my pussy in his face, and he wastes no time.

He’s savage with his assault, eating me like he’s starved and driving his fingers inside me in swift, curved perfection. He sucks and bites and not even a minute passes before my entire body is shaking, my orgasm threatening to explode like a damn bomb all over his tongue, but I don’t want to do that again.

No, I want more.

I give his hair a little tug.

He rips his mouth from my heat, looking up at me with glistening lips, and a small smirk pulls at my own.

“I like you like this, messy and below me,” I admit.

“I am forever below you,” he rasps, his need thick in this tone. “I’m not even on the same scale as you and your utter perfection.”

“I don’t want you below me.” My words are leading, and he finally catches on.

He licks his lips. “And where would you like me?”

“Behind me.” I consider what that means, what he’s going to see, but even the thought isn’t enough to keep me from asking for what I want. “On your feet, Enzo,” my voice trembles but it’s not in fear. Or maybe it is, but fear of falling harder than I should.

That’s what’s happening, isn’t it?

I’m falling for my husband?

Enzo groans long and loud as he squeezes my thighs, and in the next moment, he’s got his palms on the ground, crawling out from under me. He climbs to his feet at my backside, his tongue dragging from behind my knee, all the way up my spine. It’s erotic, my nerves firing off and making my skin prickle, and he keeps going. When his tongue grazes the first point of raised skin halfway up my back, we both freeze. Oh-so slowly, his mouth leaves my spine, and I shake a little for another reason.

What will he say?

Will he be disgusted?

The mood killed?

But Enzo surprises me when, with even softer strokes, his tongue returns, grazing along the scar from first cut to last. His lips press there, holding for two solid seconds longer than necessary, as if to soothe me, to assure me, and it somehow does both.

I forget all about my imperfect skin as he continues to explore it, my mind melting until all that’s left is Enzo.

He kisses my neck and I turn my face to the side slightly, where he instantly gives me what I didn’t know I was asking for.

Those lips, only this time his kiss is different. It’s long, languid strokes, like a massage for my mouth, and I moan long and low into his.

He pulls away slightly, his forehead pressing to mine before sliding down and resting on my shoulder. “You’re beautiful. Every bit of you,” he whispers.

A low moan leaves me, and Enzo reaches between us. A moment later, he’s at my entrance, his cock thick and so fucking warm against me.

I face forward, leaning my forearms on the railing as I bow my back some more, pushing my hips backward and forcing his swollen, mushroom tip inside me.

“Greedy for my cock, Little Bride?” he teases, pulling out only to give me back what I stole, teasing me with that glorious stretch of the head of his cock, only to leave me empty in the next moment.

A whimper escapes and I almost get embarrassed by the needy sound I’m not sure I’ve ever made for another man, but then he moans his approval.

“Yes,” he rasps. “Weep for me with that mouth, just like your pussy is.” His cock disappears, his fingers taking its place and sliding through my wet folds, driving his point home figuratively, and then literally when he shoves two fingers deep inside me.

I clench around him, and he hums, his other hand locked tight against my left hip.

“You need me, don’t you? Need me inside you? Need me to make you come?”

His words send a wave of heat licking across my spine and I shake, my nipples as hard as diamonds and aching to be touched. Sucked. Fucked.

“Enzo.”

“Right here,” he murmurs, the warmth of him back between my legs, slowly rubbing up and down my heat, the head of his dick gliding along my clit and making my muscles clench. “Is my wife ready to take her husband’s cock?”

“Fuck.” The tremble in my voice is obvious to my own ears. Clenching my eyes closed, I let everything go, just like he asked.

It’s just me and him and nothing else.

“Yes,” I admit, arching impossibly deeper, thrusting my ass against him in a desperate plea. “Make me ache.”

“Make you ache what?” His cock finds my entrance again, pushing in slowly, and a shuttered gasp escapes.

I push back, but he holds my hips still and repeats himself.

“Make you ache…what?” This time, his words are a silky command.

“Husband.” I find his eyes over my shoulder, tongue rolling over my bottom lip at the sight of him.

He looks like a man possessed, crazed. His body is clenched, his torso and pecs straining, his muscles convulsed like he just did an hour of straight core work. His veins are popping, and his eyes have gone black. He looks like the devil, and I want him to possess me.

I bite into my lower lip to keep from moaning at the simple sight of him, and then I give him what he wants. “Make me ache, husband.”

He stares at me for a long silent moment, his fingertips digging further into my skin as he slowly starts to push his way inside me. I start to turn around but then he freezes, his head shaking slowly. “I don’t think so, wife. You will look me in the eye the first time I slide into this perfect pussy of yours.” He pushes another inch in, and his lids start to flutter, his teeth clenching together. “Or should I say mine.” He groans, long and loud, and then he’s all the way in.

My lips part on a gasp, and I clench around him instantly, the stretch a sweet, burning one.

Enzo’s head falls back, his Adam’s apple strong and proud, my lips on his neck staring back at me, and I have this sudden urge to kiss him there again. To bite him. To make him hiss in pleasurable pain. But then he starts pumping, his face a beautiful, dark angel of pure pleasure, and I fall into it with him. I face forward, staring out at the lake, sucking in the fresh air and the freedom of this moment.

He fucks me against the railing, the sounds loud and raw, a heavy slap, a slick, slippery slide of his cock inside me. My head falls to my chest, and he drives his hips harder.

“You’re so tight, and you only keep squeezing me more. Your pussy is magic. Magic and mine and mmm,” he groans. “I can’t take it. Can’t believe I haven’t had you in every way fucking possible. I’m going to now. All over. Every-fucking-where. God, I’m going to ruin you like you ruin me.” He tips his hips, pressing his palm to the center of my back. “You’re going to crave me. Need me.” His thrusts are hard hits of flesh on flesh now, and I start to quake, my limbs shaking and threatening to give out as he fucks me raw. Senseless. I’m going to come.

He grips my hair, gently tugging as a way to silently call me up, and I go eagerly. My back is now flush with his sweaty chest, and I moan at the feeling, propping my foot up on the banister to give him better access between my legs.

He takes my ear in his mouth, scraping his teeth across the sensitive flesh before sucking on the space beneath it. “But best of all, my sweet, perfect little bride.” His hips jerk up, his free hand closing over my clit for a sharp pinch. “You’re going to fucking love me.”

As if he pulled some Houdini shit and said the magic words, I come on command, my greedy cunt sucking him deeper.

The orgasm is swift and sweeps through my entire being, and the wave keeps rolling, his fire and need and then his release consuming me, stretching out my own.

And then I pass out in my husband’s arms.