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“What’s not to like?”Touché. I grin as Maria brings us another round of shots.
AMELIA
“Amelia wake up,” Eric says, kissing my neck. “I want some attention this morning.” I roll deeper onto my stomach.Please just leave me alone.“Amelia, you awake?” I keep my eyes closed.Wouldn’t I be responding if so, dumb ass?I really just want to sleep.
I feel him rub his hand up my thigh, kissing the back of my neck. He pulls my hair aside as he kisses deeper around. I’m hoping he stops if I don’t respond. He’s breathing in my ear and grinding against my hip.Shit, he’s running his hands around my stomach … pulling me toward him. I force my upper body not to roll, hoping he assumes I’m in a deep sleep.
He flips me over hard and crawls over me. He’s kissing my neck and brushing his lips against my mouth. I whimper not out of satisfaction, but out of frustration. I flap my hands at his face as he’s working down my neck, pulling my gown.
“No … I am sleeping,” I moan trying to roll, but he pins my wrist beside my face on the bed.
My eyes flutter open. “Eric what are you doing? Let go of me.” He grins, grinding his hips into me. “Get off me,” I whisper. We have a full house, and I don’t want anyone to hear us.
“Oh god you make me horny,” he growls.Shit!
“Get off me, Eric.”
He looks at me dead in the face. “You’re my wife, Amelia. Why don’t you ever want me?” I roll my eyes.
“I’ve had sex with you for ten years. I think I’m entitled to having an opinion about when I feel like it or not. I’m tired. It’s still early. Besides, it’s not like it’s going to last long enough to amount to anything.” I can see that hurt his feelings.
“Then we should only do it more. It will build up my stamina.” He proceeds to pull my panties down.
“No, I don’t want you,” I blurt out. He stops and his face looks angry.
“Who the fuck do you want then?” He pins my hands back down. “Say it. Who do want to do it with Amelia? That Quinton Starks guy?” I smirk before I realize it. “You do … you want him.”
I laugh. “No. I just think it’s funny you brought him up.”
“You said you don’t want me, not that you don’t want to do it. Which means you want someone.” I roll my eyes. “I saw the way you threw yourself at him. The way you made a fool of yourself—he doesn’t want you. He’s a womanizer—you can see it a mile away.”
“I wasn’t thinking of anyone,” I lie. I totally want to do it with Quinton Starks. I want to do it all with him. Obviously, Eric’s jealous of him, belittling him.
“Pretend I’m whoever you want me to be. I don’t care. I just want to have sex.” With my hands pinned, he continues kissing me, down my neck, working down the front of my nighty. This is fucked up.
“Let me go.” I struggle to get him to free my hands, but he doesn’t. He only pulls them further above my head, clasping both wrists with one hand. Now his other hand is free for his assault. He pulls my gown up, sucking my nipples. “Stop it.” I try to wiggle out of his mouth. It doesn’t work.
He works his hand down between my legs. His touch is rough. Hard. I pinch my eyes shut as I feel his finger inside of me. I hate that. He knows this. It doesn’t turn me on at all.
“Stop it, Eric. You know I don’t like that.” My body tenses. Unless I want another lesson—on what his hands can do down there—it's best I stop resisting and give-in, once again. I’m scared he’s going to hurt me. I feel him pull his finger out and grab his cock. It’s not covered.
“No … No!” I scream, flipping my hips. “You put something on that damn thing.”
He sighs as he gets off me to grab a condom. “Don’t you move or I’ll put it in without a raincoat. You’re my wife,” he tells me as he enters me. “I shouldn’t have to wear these damn things.” I close my eyes, trying to get through this. I hate this with him.I hate this. I hate this.Lucky for me it doesn’t take him long to reach his goal. He flops next to me, breathing hard. How is he even out of breath? I look at him, he just ravaged me.Again!I’ve lost count the number of times over the years of marriage to him.
Inwardly, I huff sarcastically,the only sexual consent I have, is marital consent.That in reality translates to no choice in the matter! I sit up, my gown falls back into place as I get out of bed. There’s no romance. Nothing! I feel like a vessel to be poked. “I am showering. Alone!” I add as I walk into the bathroom, locking the door.
I stand in the shower, letting the hot water spray over my body. I want my skin red. I close my eyes, washing my face with my cleanser—I see Quinton. I grab my body wash, lathering the suds over my body. Scrubbing my nipples until they’re tender and my sex stings. I am clean. I grab my shampoo and lather, still thinking about Quinton. I wonder what he’s going to come up with for us to do next week. The thought makes me absolutely giddy with excitement. I remember Eric laying naked in bed as I finish up. I can’t wait for him to leave. In fact, I need that information.
I wipe the frosted-over mirror with my hand—depression is staring back at me. I brush my hair straight back and blow-dry it; I put just enough makeup to accent my features. I walk into the closet and grab a pair of capris and a tank top. “Ugh … who are you kidding Amelia. Eric is right! Mr. Gorgeous GQ worthy model isn’t going to really want me,” I whisper contemplating my body and features as I move about in front of the full-length mirror.
“Hey, Eric.” I walk out of the bathroom. “When are you leaving for your trip?” He’s already dressed, gathering his drawings and plans.
“Wednesday through Sunday.” He smiles as he walks over and kisses me on the cheek. “You should really start wearing your wedding rings again.”
“What?” I look down at my naked finger. In the past ten years, I have rarely worn my wedding bands.
He grabs my hand. “You don’t even have a tan line of a ring.” He slips his ring down a bit. “I do. I never take my ring off.”
