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“I told you I’ll handle it, sweetheart. There’s no need to—”
“Mak too.” My pleas slip easily from my tongue now, every word loaded with desperation.
“Your roommate?” he spits, incredulous.
“He’s my best friend, and he’ll kill him too.”
“Fucking hell, Romy. Your little friend isn’t what I want to be thinking about when I have you bent over with your ass in the—”
“Please, Donnacha.” The tears leak from my lids now, pooling in the puddle made by my wet hair. “I am begging you. Protect us.”
My sobs punctuate the silence. My husband makes no attempt to comfort me, making an uneasy feeling trickle down my back. Trying to claw back my secrets, I garble, “The head in the box, all those threats. He’s a dangerous man, and I need to know that once all of this is done—once our marriage is over and you have no use for me anymore—you’ll protect us from him.”
Behind me, there’s a sharp hiss of air. Then the belt snakes around my neck, jerking my head upward. Donnacha’s body presses flat against mine, his throbbing cock splitting my ass cheeks. I can feel every curve of his abs as he leans over me, lips finding my ears. “Leo Belsky is nowhere near as dangerous as I can be, Romy.” His tone drips with venom, making me feel sick. “Especially to those I suspect have betrayed my family or me.”
If it wasn’t for the belt propping me up, I’d collapse to the floor. Instead, I push against my throat against it, begging for it to choke me harder. “I’ll scream,” I rasp. “I’ll give you every fucking noise you’ve ever wanted to hear.”
After a long, haunting beat, Donnacha removes the belt from my neck slides it into my mouth.
Gagging me. Forcing me to be silent when I don’t have the willpower to be silent myself.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I sink my teeth into the tangy leather and brace myself. Wordlessly, Donnacha’s hands rake down my back, stopping at my ass cheeks and roughly parting them. Without warning, he thrusts his length into me, hard and fast. Hot, violent fireworks rip through my canal, opening me up to pleasure I don’t deserve.
He tightens his grip on the belt so it cuts into the corners of my mouth.
Life isn’t fucking fair.I can’t destroy myself, so I want Donnacha to do it. I want him to push me down to the bottom of the abyss, where I can curl up into a ball and stay there. Where the shards of my brokenness cut me; where the pain has teeth.
I want to commit every frantic, painful thrust to memory. Etch each of his slaps on my ass like a permanent tattoo.
I hate how the pressure mounts in my lower stomach; I am not worthy of the release.
But it comes, as hard and as fast as Donnacha’s strokes, racing round my body like a virus. I clamp my molars on the belt, feeling the soft fabric tear underneath them. Donnacha’s orgasm chases mine, shooting hot, sticky ropes deep inside me.
Aside from his heavy breathing, he hasn’t said a word. Like the roles have reversed, and now he’s the one who’s desperate not to break.
Still silent, he withdraws from me, gently sliding the belt out of my mouth.
The rustle of his jeans.
The clink of his belt fastening.
The heavy footsteps growing quieter, then the ding-dong of the elevator doors opening.
And he leaves me here, without a word, let alone his promise of protection.
