Read Online Durability (The LockDown Series Book 3) by Shannon Dobson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shannon Dobson
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happened today.
“What Leighton, tell me.” She looks worried. Sending herself into a self-induced state of panic.
“Baby, we have got Mel back, she is at home with Ant and Georgia safe and sound. But your dad, well…” I stutter when answering. I don’t know what her reaction is going to be. Will she be happy, relieved, angry, upset, regretful? It is hard to muster the strength to tell her. I have killed people, more than I can possibly count. Violent and torturous deaths, but none even came close to taking his life. It gave me some sick kind of pleasure doing so.
“Tell me!” she demands of me and if it wasn’t because I was about to tell her of her father’s whereabouts, I would bend her tight little body over my knee and spank the ever living shit out of her for using that tone with me.
“Abigail.” I warn her still, she shouldn’t forget her role in our relationship. My wife? Sure, but my submissive? That is something I crave for as much as having her for eternity. For me there simply is no one or the other. It is a package deal and if she wants me as her husband the way I want her as my wife, she needs to keep a closer eye on her training and follow it that little bit better.
“Sorry, Sir.” She lowers her head in apology, closing in on herself a little.
I clasp her chin and raise her eyes to me. Her bright blue globes, glistening from her tears, draw me in like a moth to a fucking flame and I feel myself igniting and exploding in front of her.
“Good girl. Now, I need to tell you something, it’s important baby, and I need you to tell me everything you're feeling after. Can you do that?” I question her, looking down at her and her precious form, so shielded and guarded. She was hiding herself, cocooning herself from any hurt the world could now throw her way.
“Yes Sir,” she responds, gulping down her saliva.
“Good. Now, when I found our daughter, she was with your father as you said. Antonio and I…” I stop, breathing out heavily.
“Just tell me, Leighton,” Abbi bites out, her eyes angry with her sadness.
“We killed him sweetheart.” Kill is an easy explanation. I had beaten the shit out of him, shattering and smashing every bone the fucking abusive bastard possessed. Then I persisted to shoot a round through his skull, chest and stomach. I hadn’t been merciful, in fact I had been merciless, not an ounce of regret or a second thought of doing it. He deserved everything I did and much more.
“Gonna be sick,” she says as she tries to reach for a bowl beside her, but her arm refraining her from getting it.
I jump from the bed to get her one but by the time I have returned, she has spewed all over the tiled floor of her room. “Oh baby,” I say sympathetically and I give her the bowl and enter the bathroom to collect some paper towels.
I clear up the vomit, trying my hardest not to heave. Baby sick is one thing, but adult vomit is unbearable. “You don’t have to do that,” she tells me as she cleans her mouth of her stomach contents and places the bowl on the side ready for disposal.
“Yeah, I do babe. I’m sorry it made you feel like that.” I take the bowl she has used plus all the used paper towels and dispose of them in the clinical waste bin, sliding the contents into the yellow bag.
“You okay?” I ask as I return and sit back on the bed beside her. I wrap my arms around her again, the lingering scent now permeating the air.
She shrugs her shoulders and I see the sadness she harbours. I have never felt guilty for killing somebody who deserved it, but she retains a kind of regret that signifies an unfinished tale.
“Abbi, tell me your thoughts, please?” I squeeze her to me a little harder, my hand reaching and landing on her shoulder. I feel again, noticing more dressings cover the wound than when she had been awake earlier. “What happened when I went Abbi?” I ask her with a look of concern on my face.
“They had to re-operate. I had internal
“What Leighton, tell me.” She looks worried. Sending herself into a self-induced state of panic.
“Baby, we have got Mel back, she is at home with Ant and Georgia safe and sound. But your dad, well…” I stutter when answering. I don’t know what her reaction is going to be. Will she be happy, relieved, angry, upset, regretful? It is hard to muster the strength to tell her. I have killed people, more than I can possibly count. Violent and torturous deaths, but none even came close to taking his life. It gave me some sick kind of pleasure doing so.
“Tell me!” she demands of me and if it wasn’t because I was about to tell her of her father’s whereabouts, I would bend her tight little body over my knee and spank the ever living shit out of her for using that tone with me.
“Abigail.” I warn her still, she shouldn’t forget her role in our relationship. My wife? Sure, but my submissive? That is something I crave for as much as having her for eternity. For me there simply is no one or the other. It is a package deal and if she wants me as her husband the way I want her as my wife, she needs to keep a closer eye on her training and follow it that little bit better.
“Sorry, Sir.” She lowers her head in apology, closing in on herself a little.
I clasp her chin and raise her eyes to me. Her bright blue globes, glistening from her tears, draw me in like a moth to a fucking flame and I feel myself igniting and exploding in front of her.
“Good girl. Now, I need to tell you something, it’s important baby, and I need you to tell me everything you're feeling after. Can you do that?” I question her, looking down at her and her precious form, so shielded and guarded. She was hiding herself, cocooning herself from any hurt the world could now throw her way.
“Yes Sir,” she responds, gulping down her saliva.
“Good. Now, when I found our daughter, she was with your father as you said. Antonio and I…” I stop, breathing out heavily.
“Just tell me, Leighton,” Abbi bites out, her eyes angry with her sadness.
“We killed him sweetheart.” Kill is an easy explanation. I had beaten the shit out of him, shattering and smashing every bone the fucking abusive bastard possessed. Then I persisted to shoot a round through his skull, chest and stomach. I hadn’t been merciful, in fact I had been merciless, not an ounce of regret or a second thought of doing it. He deserved everything I did and much more.
“Gonna be sick,” she says as she tries to reach for a bowl beside her, but her arm refraining her from getting it.
I jump from the bed to get her one but by the time I have returned, she has spewed all over the tiled floor of her room. “Oh baby,” I say sympathetically and I give her the bowl and enter the bathroom to collect some paper towels.
I clear up the vomit, trying my hardest not to heave. Baby sick is one thing, but adult vomit is unbearable. “You don’t have to do that,” she tells me as she cleans her mouth of her stomach contents and places the bowl on the side ready for disposal.
“Yeah, I do babe. I’m sorry it made you feel like that.” I take the bowl she has used plus all the used paper towels and dispose of them in the clinical waste bin, sliding the contents into the yellow bag.
“You okay?” I ask as I return and sit back on the bed beside her. I wrap my arms around her again, the lingering scent now permeating the air.
She shrugs her shoulders and I see the sadness she harbours. I have never felt guilty for killing somebody who deserved it, but she retains a kind of regret that signifies an unfinished tale.
“Abbi, tell me your thoughts, please?” I squeeze her to me a little harder, my hand reaching and landing on her shoulder. I feel again, noticing more dressings cover the wound than when she had been awake earlier. “What happened when I went Abbi?” I ask her with a look of concern on my face.
“They had to re-operate. I had internal
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