His hands caught my jaw, and I whined softly as his thrusts went deeper. His fingers gripped my face as he stared into my eyes sadistically.
“You’re leaving that motherfucker. Do you understand me? He doesn’t deserve you. If I ever see you wearing that fucking ring,I will break your finger, and I will make sure the only ring you ever think to put on is mine. Because you belong to me,” he seethed.
I stared at him in shock, mainly because he was insane but partially because his possessiveness, for some fucked-up reason, made me even more wet and aroused than I was before.
Giving him a compliant nod as he placed another passionate kiss on my lips, I screamed into his mouth as I came, my legs trembling around his frame as he continued with little to no mercy. The feeling of being utterly ruined by him left me dazed and breathless as I only wanted more.
For some time now, I had been doubting whether or not this was love, whether or not I was simply going through the motions of giving into my midlife crisis.
But now… Now, I’m embracing what we have. Whether what Beckham and I shared was love or desire and yearning, we still had somethingunique.Something special,passionate.
It was something that finally made me feel alive. Something that ignited the fire in me that longed to burn after my loveless marriage had extinguished it long ago.
In his eyes, I was more than a broken woman or simply someone’s wife. I was his obsession, I was hismuse, and he, in turn, becamemine. Wrapping my arms around his neck as his hold softened on my face, he caressed my cheek as I whispered the words I’d been dying to tell him.
“I love you, Beckham.”
My voice broke, the soft words a stark contrast to his brutal pace. He’d become my ruining, and he was glad that was the case.
Almost like he couldn’t believe I’d said the words, his grip on me tightened once more, his breath hitching as if my words were what would undo him.
And with another deep passionate kiss to the lips, as he rested his forehead against mine, he choked out the same words that filled my heart with delight, cumming with a force that was desperate to seal our fate.
“And I love you, my beautiful flower.”
Chapter thirty-nine
Rosenna
Wakingfromthesofa,I looked around to see I was still in my office. There was a dull ache between my thighs, reminding me of the hours that had passed with Beckham. Breathing out as I sat up, I looked down at my scattered clothing on the ground, realizing I was only in my bra and underwear.
Beckham wasn’t anywhere to be found, but his keys and wallet still sat on my desk, letting me know he was somewhere around the building.
Grabbing my clothes, I stepped inside my personal bathroom and fixed myself as best as I could. After freshening up and getting dressed, I combed my hair as I stepped out of the bathroom.
Checking the time on my phone, I realized it was nearly two in the morning. Gavin hadn’t messaged me, though I assumed he would have fallen asleep at home.
If I knew better, I would say the makeup sex with Beckham was confirmation to him that I would be ending things with Gavin sooner or later. Especially with the stunt he pulled with the super-secret exhibit of our affair that expressed his underlying love and appreciation.Obsessionandaddiction, too, but for my sanity, I’ll say it was out of love and desperation to show how much he cared for me.
In the midst of all this, I was both stressing and panicking. Sure, the question of who I should be with was answered, and I partially accepted that I’d fallen in love with the world’s most insufferable man… but there was another problem.
I would also have to reveal the truth to Gavin, the husband I wanted so badly to show me what Beckham showed in only the last few months of knowing him.
Was this really the end? Was I truly ready to give up years of my marriage—
Yes.
I was worth more than Gavin. Beckham knew that. Kira knew that. Dear Lord, Vincent Garcia probably knew it, too. Why was it so hard for me to accept the reality that my shitty marriage was, in fact, shitty and now presumably over? We’d ruined it beyond repair, and I needed to accept it sooner or later.
Stepping out of my office, I heard a few footsteps down the hall by the now-famous exhibit, and I could only assume that was where Beckham had wandered off to. Walking over to it, I tried to push the negative thoughts away as I oddly wanted to be in his embrace once again. After weeks spent apart, I craved his touch despite my racing and conflicting thoughts.
Approaching the exhibit, I smiled as I watched him admire the sculpture with his hand under his chin; however, the closer I got, the more the horror of my new reality began to settle in.
Maybe it was the fog in my just-fucked brain that made me forget what Beckham had been wearing, but looking at the back of the man before me, I finally realized it was an entirely different outfit.
Scratch that. It was a different man entirely. From the cocky but tense shoulders to his broad stance overall, I knewexactlywho it was. And as he turned to face me as I stood frozen in the middle of the floor, I felt my soul leave my body.
He gave me a once-over and sighed as he rubbed his chin and returned his eyes to the sculpture.
