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He locks his arms around me and spins with me, shutting the door at the same time with a loud thud.
He slams me against the wall and collars my neck, his eyes smashing into mine, brutal and dark.
This is not a game.
He was never a game, and I was never in control of him.
He’s always controlled me. I know that nothing works with him, and my mind begins to scream, flooded with panic.
My back hits the wall, and his hand shoots up between my legs. I swing my arm, clench my fist, and clock him. Blood springs out from his broken lip. He stalls and stares at me, taken by surprise.
I push him away.
“Get off me, you fucking piece of shit. I’m not your fucking slut,” I bark and regret it quickly.
He charges at me again. Cuffing my neck and pressing his hard cock into me. He’s even worse when he’s turned on, and nothing does for him like my words.
“You fucking dirty slut. You know we are perfect for each other, and you get me hard every single fucking time. And you made me blast my load like no one else. You were nothing like my fucking wife.”
“You shouldn’t have picked her, you fucking asshole,” I growl and spit on him, pushing him back again.
His hand remains on my neck, pinning me against the wall.
He throws his head back and laughs, his expression morphing into something sinister.
“Do you really think most women are like you? You must know better than that.”
“Well, most men aren’t like you, asshole. Then why would women be like me?”
Tilting his head to the side, he runs his hand down his cock, flashing a knowing grin.
“Is he...? The man you marry?”
“Keep him out of this.”
“Mmm. He is. He’s a smart man to make you his, then. And a lucky bastard. It’s unfair for the rest of us who have to fuck wallflowers until our cocks turn to dust.”
“Well. Tough luck, jerk. He’s not like you.”
“I bet he isn’t, but he’s not a run-of-the-mill guy either. You wouldn’t have some shadow guy pussyfooting around you. I know that much about you.”
“How would you know that, motherfucker?”
“I know you, Senna. It’s the way you’re wired, babe. You’d rather kill someone than fuck you into boredom, and that’s why you liked me even when you were a spotless angel.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl and clutch his arms, trying to tear his hands off.
He laughs again.
“Truth hurts, huh? I fucking made you good for him, you fucking slut,” he growls, no trace of a smile on his lips.
His voice turns into a hoarse grunt, his eyes glinting crazily while he grips my dress. I swing my knee high and crash it between his legs.
“Oh...” he mumbles, crouching in pain.
His hand slides off my neck. I dash away when his hand clutches my arm again, pulling me back.
The door cracks open, and a voice drifts through the air.
