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“You think you can just walk away from me? From us?” he snaps, and I hear the hurt laced in his anger.
“I have to,” I choke out as my whole body flushes with heat.
“Fuck that. I refuse. So run, little girl, and hide. Do whatever you think you need. But I’ll find you. I’ll always find you. And when I do, I’ll fuck you over and over until the only name that spills from your lips is mine.”
He thrusts into me hard, the bite of pain throwing me over the edge, dragging him right along with me. I scream as I come and hear the click of the door opening. The dawning horror does nothing to stop my orgasm from smashing into me.
It isn’t until Rémy’s body is ripped from mine that I’m able to get myself together enough to climb off the bed. On weak legs, I turn to find Calix beating the shit out of a laughing Rémy.
“I’m just keeping her warm for you, man,” he taunts, causing Calix to snap.
“Calix, stop!” I yell as he reaches behind him and pulls a gun from the waistband of his pants. I don’t question where he got it from as I step between them.
Always willing to take the advantage given to him, Rémy pushes open the window he must have entered through and climbs out buck naked.
“See you soon, Sugar,” he calls out ominously, leaving me facing my very livid husband.
“Calix.” I step closer to him, my hand resting on his arm. He rips himself free of my touch. I school my features so that he doesn’t see how much that hurts.
He seethes. “Not playing games, huh?”
I open my mouth to explain but then shut it again. What am I going to say? It isn’t what it looks like.
“I thought he was you,” I whisper, knowing I’m making it worse. I’m still trying to work through everything that just happened.
He looks at me in disgust. “That’s the best you got? He was inside you!” he roars, getting in my face.
I stand my ground and lock my legs, feeling everything beginning to unravel. I swallow hard as his hand wraps around my hair and yanks my head back. I have no choice but to stare into his cold eyes. Right now, he’s not Calix. He’s the Carver.
“You let him touch you.”
“It wasn’t like that. I fought him, Calix.”
“Yeah, angel, it looked like you fought him real hard while coming all over his dick.” His face gets close to mine, his lips barely an inch away, his breath fanning over me. “That what this is, Sugar? You want your cake and eat it too?”
“Calix, please.” As much as I want him to listen, I don’t know what to say. When I replay everything in my head, I know an explanation will sound like a lie.
“Please, what, angel? Is it my turn now? What was it he said? He was keeping you warm for me.”
He pushes me to my knees, and I let him, the shame of everything he is saying washing over me. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t instigate any of this. Part of what he’s saying is true, though. I could have fought harder, but how could I fight when fucking Rémy feels like coming home?
Calix rips open his jeans and shoves them and his boxers down over his ass. He might be pissed at me, but his dick is hard as granite. I’m not sure what to make of that.
“Open,” he orders, and after a second, I do.
He’s not gentle, not that I expected him to be. Using my hair to hold me in place, he fucks my mouth like it’s my pussy. He ignores my gagging when he goes too deep, and he’s unmoved by the tears that run down my cheeks. I let him use me, convinced it’s a penance I have to pay. While this whole thing has turned into a nightmare, it brings with it a startling clarity that I’ve tried to deny.
I’m in love with one man and married to another. Yet neither of them is really mine.
He grunts, and I feel his dick swell just before he pulls from my mouth and comes on my lips and chest. I’ve done many things over the years. I’ve used my body as a bargaining chip and sold myself for the greater good. I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, but I never truly felt like a whore until now.
He tucks himself away and stares down at me, his face void of emotion. But he can’t hide the turmoil behind his eyes. I stand up, my legs shaking, but I pretend not to notice. He looks me up and down like I’m trash, making me want to grab the bedspread and cover up, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“Does it feel good knowing his cum is running down your legs while mine paints your face?”
I’m done with this bullshit. I might have fucked Rémy, but if he’s not even going to give me the chance to explain, I’m better off walking away.
When I move to walk past him, he grabs my arm. “I asked you a fucking question.”
