Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
“It matters if you’ve been fucking someone while we were married.” My back meets the wall, unable to do anything else.
“Nnnn…no, never.” My teeth chatter, and it’s not from being cold. I watch as his hand rises. This is it, the worry that he’d progress into some kind of monster. I mean, the verbal and emotional abuse have been something I’ve handled. Albeit hiding from Shane isn’t the best-case scenario, it’s been my self-preservation.
“You’re lying. You’re nothing but a filthy fucking liar. As for me leaving, that’s not fucking happening.” His hand comes down. I raise my arms, duck my head, and brace for impact. Even with Shane drinking himself half to death, he’s double my size in muscle and is a good six inches taller than me. I don’t stand a chance in fighting back. The only thing I can do is pray for it to be over quickly.
There’s a blow to my stomach, knocking the wind out of my sails. The shirt and jacket I’m wearing do nothing for the protection from his fist. I sink to the ground, clenching my teeth, trying not whimper.
“You’re good for nothing. Never even put out.” He gets in my face, not that my eyes are open. Nope, they’re firmly shut, but I can feel his presence. It’s not like Ryland’s; this feels more ominous.
“But you put out for him, moaning his name like the whore you are.” Spittle flies out of his mouth, landing on my chest as he delivers another punch to my stomach, this one harsher than the last. Standing up is becoming impossible, and I know the minute I hit the floor, the beating is only going to get worse.
I keep myself in an upright position, barely, and think about what he basically just screamed through my small home. I drift away while he continues to rain down on every square inch of my body, dropping to the floor and curling into a ball. Meanwhile, I’m in the place I was last night, in my bed when I thought the house was empty. I never allow myself to dream of a future when I’ll have the husband, the children, and a happy home. Last night, I let myself go there, only this time, it was with Ryland. My fingers may have been doing the work, but in my mind, Ry was the one in on the action.
We were in bed, the house was shut down for the night, Case was tucked in bed, and it was our time. Yes, I went there. For the first time in my adult life, I went to a place where maybe one day I could have exactly what I’ve always yearned for.
I’m not sure if I’d ever be as brave as I was in my fantasy. We were naked, me lying flat on my back, feet planted, and my legs spread apart. Ryland Johnson stood at the foot of the bed, hand wrapped around his thick cock, and he told me verbatim how to get myself off. It didn’t take much—the heat in his eyes, the way our combined groans echoed through the room, my fingers sliding in and out of my center, wetness coating my thighs, hands, and pussy. The whole time Ry watched me, my own eyes were glued to him. Up and down, a twist of his wrist, the head of his cock wet with precum, him sweeping his thumb along what I’m sure is velvet to the touch. While I might have been doing all the work in my bed and in my head, Ryland was there with me. And when he crawled between my spread thighs, uncontrollable need consumed me. I couldn’t hold back, and my orgasm took over when his hand gripped my thigh, the contrast of his deep olive tone to my pale skin. My head tipped back, and I came, long and hard, and obviously with repercussions.
“Answer me!” Somehow, I’ve lost my footing; holding myself up was no longer an option. The worn carpet is abrasive against my cheek, tears cloud my vision, and my arms are no longer blocking my face. I’m holding my stomach, my side, anywhere Shane decides to destroy me bit by bit. Which means when his booted foot meets the side of my head, I’m done. Stars blur, pain explodes, and there’s no way to hold back my groan of pain. He’s not done yet either; I’m not sure he ever will be. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to kill me, and if he keeps beating me, he’ll succeed.
“Please,” I plead. My voice comes out garbled.
“I should have never married you. You’re worthless. All you do is walk around like you’re tired and it’s too much for you to work. Can’t even do simple things like pick me up a six-pack.” I ignore his words. Shane Sullivan is a coward, beating a helpless woman, belittling her, and he’s not the only one wishing he didn’t marry me. I wish I’d never said yes to him. I knew the moment the ink was dry that I’d made a mistake. Now, I’m stuck here, defenseless, and I know if I can’t get away or grab my phone out of my purse, he’ll never stop, not ever.