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But he rolls onto his back, bringing me with him so that I’m atop him, his cock brushing between my thighs. I lean forward as I push his pants down his hips, kissing him with his cock trapped between us, feeling the heat of it against my stomach. I can’t resist the urge to grind against him as I do, as his hips lift off of the bed to kick off his pants, and I feel more than hear him groan against my mouth as he throbs between us.
“I’ll putyouon your back if you don’t put my cock in you,” he growls against my lips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of my thighs, and I can’t help but moan. “You like that, don’t you? When I tell you what I want.” One of his hands sinks into my hair as the other guides his cock between my legs, the swollen head slipping inside of me as my back arches and he bites at my lower lip. “Even on top, you want it like this.”
I whimper as I feel him fill me, his hands on my hips again as he drags me down onto his length. I’d thought I was going to take charge like this, that I’d be the one fuckinghim, and somehow I find the strength to break the kiss, sitting up atop him as I brace my hands against his chest and start to roll my hips.
“Or like this?” I whisper as I see his gaze sweep over me, taking in the view of me riding him, my thighs splayed open on either side of his hips. I arch upwards against his grip, sliding up until only the very tip of his cock is inside of me, and then back down again, grinding along his length with every inch as David’s head tips back, a low groan of pleasure escaping him.
“Fuck—”he breathes. “God, you feel so fucking good. So tight and wet—” One hand leaves my hip, his fingers finding my clit and circling it as I grind down onto him. “Yes,bellisima.Take my cock, just like that—” His voice is hoarse, rasping over every word as his hips thrust up into me, and I can see that glazed look of pleasure on his face. It thrills me, making my heart race, pushing me closer to the edge, too. When we’re like this, together, everything else fades away. The things that I’m afraid of disappear, and there’s only this—my husband’s hands on me, his gaze locked on mine, the two of us sharing an intimacy that I never knew before him.
But it’s not real. I remind myself of that, trying not to lose my resolve. I feel another orgasm building as he thrusts into me, his fingers rubbing a steady rhythm between my legs, and I close my eyes tightly as I kiss him, refusing to let the tears fall that well up in my eyes. If he sees me crying, he’ll want to know why—and right now, I don’t know if I can lie well enough to fool him.
His fingers sink into the flesh of my hip, hard enough to bruise, a reminder of him that I’ll have tomorrow. I feel the heat of his tongue tangle with mine as his hips jerk beneath me, flooding me with a different kind of heat as he comes, and I arch against him, moaning as my climax follows his. I tighten around him, feeling him throb deep inside of me, and it feels so good that, for a moment, I can’t breathe or move or think. I feel his hands sliding over me, holding me against him, and I wish for one bright, painful moment that I never met him in Ibiza at all.
But even that wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t keep us from ending up here, with me torn between loving him and leaving him, afraid that I’m making a mistake and terrified of what happens if I stay.
Our marriage was arranged regardless of whether I met him in Ibiza or not. Even if I’d never gone, even if I’d never walked up to him in that club, David Carravella would still have ended up standing in the living room of my childhood home, introduced to me as my future husband.
This was inevitable. Now, it’s just a matter of what I’m going to do about it.
The fear is almost crippling as I lie in bed next to him later that night, waiting for him to be fully asleep. I collected the money earlier—it’s tucked in my jewelry box on my vanity, waiting for me to get it out as I slip out of the bedroom. I left clothes in one of the guest rooms so that I could change without waking David up or arousing suspicion—my purse is there too, the directions to the bus station hidden inside. I go over the plan again and again until I hear his steady, even breathing, imagining each step until I’m out of the house and slip away into the darkness. What I hadn’t expected, in all my planning, is how hard it is to find the courage to get up and leave.
Or how much I would wish that things were different, as I look at David sleeping next to me. The way the good memories would come flooding back in, reminding me that it wasn’t always like this. That sometimes, it seemed like there was a chance we could be happy.
What finally gets me up is the thought that once upon a time, Bria might have thought that, too.
I’m grateful that David is a heavy sleeper. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do is move slowly—I want to rush, to snatch everything I need and run—but that makes it more likely he’ll wake up and catch me. With every slow step, I wait to hear the sound of the bed shifting, of David sitting up, asking me blearilywhat the hell are you doing, Amalie?My fingers shake as I open the jewelry box, almost slipping and dropping the lid, and I try to breathe as I take the envelope of money out from under what I have left. I consider taking some of it with me, to pawn later, but that feels like asking to be mugged.
The blinking light of the security camera flickers in the corner of my eye. David will see what I’ve done as soon as he looks at the tape, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll be gone, and I can’t think of anything that he’ll be able to guess from the tape that he wouldn’t know simply by virtue of the fact that I’ve left.
I creep out of the bedroom, wincing with every step as I wait for the floors to creak and give me away. I feel as if I’m constantly on the verge of bursting into frightened tears, my throat tight with fear and my chest aching. I press one hand to my stomach as I walk, reminding myself why I’m doing this, why I’m risking so much, why I’m running away. Even if I could risk myself on the chance that I’ve gotten this all wrong, I can’t risk my baby.
The room where I’ve stashed my clothes is the next floor down. I change as quickly as I can, listening for any sounds of David waking up above me. I don’t know what excuse I would come up with now if he caught me—there’s no pretending I woke up thirsty or needing to pee or just couldn’t sleep. I’m fully dressed, and he wouldn’t believe me even if I tried to lie.
I reach for my purse—an oversized leather tote that I’ve stuffed a change of clothes into—and carefully head for the stairs. There’s no avoiding some of the creaky places in the wood, and I curse the old mansion all over again as I make it down to the first floor, breathing hard, trying to listen for any signs David is awake. I don’t hear him, but I could have missed it. There’s no guarantee of anything until I’m out of the house.
There’s less security at the back, and they’re easy to slip past, especially at night. I’ve done it before during the day, and I know where they are—that’s not what I’m worried about.
I hesitate at the edge of the dining room, the path to the back door clear in front of me. The wood floors creak under my feet again, the bag heavy on my shoulder, and I close my eyes. The chill of the house feels like it’s creeping into my bones, freezing me in place, keeping me here. I know it’s all my imagination, but I feel as if I’ll never make it to that back door. As if I’ll move slowly, like a dream, my feet moving but my body never really making it anywhere. As if I’ll never get out of here.
If I’m wrong about all of this, I’m leaving behind a life of comfort and security for the unknown. For a world that I don’t know how to live in. I’ve never been on my own. I’ve never had the opportunity to try. As I stand there, working up the courage, I wonder if doing this isn’t more terrifying than simply staying.
And then, just as I’m about to force myself forward, I feel a hand clamp around my wrist.
I scream. It’s an ear-piercing shriek, shattering the air between me and the dark figure that I see behind me when I twist around, trying to wrench my hand free. It’s David—I recognize his shape, his build, and I can see his features dimly in the moonlight shining in through the dining room, making him into something eerie and terrifying. The monster that I’ve been afraid he is, come to life.
Panic floods me. He says something, but I can’t hear it over the sound of my blood rushing in my ears, my heart beating painfully in my chest. I lurch backward, twisting in his grasp, my shoulder burning with sudden pain as I try to yank myself free. I stumble forward, and he follows me, pulling me back, an awful tug of war that I’m suddenly certain is a game of life and death. There’s no pretending away what I was doing now. He knows, and I’m going to pay for it.
David pulls me into his chest, and I lash out, screaming and scratching, clawing at his face with my free hand. I drive my knee up towards his groin, shoving, kicking, trying to get away in a feral panic that overrules any common sense or strategy. I feel him trying to subdue me with both hands as I twist in his grasp, and he trips as I kick at his ankles, the momentum of my attempt to get away taking us both down to the floor. My purse flies off of my shoulder, skidding a foot away on the wooden floor, and I feel a sharp pang of fear. I have to get to it—all the money I have is in there. Without it, I won’t be able to get a bus ticket. I won’t be able to leave.
“Amalie!” David shouts my name, still trying to pin me down. “Amalie,stop! Stop struggling. You’re going to hurt yourself—the baby.Amalie! What the hell is going on?”
He shouts the words into my face, his expression furious and confused all at once, and the fear I feel as I look up into his darkened, angry face is worse than anything I’ve ever felt in all my life. It’s numbing, cold as ice, so deep and all-consuming that I know I’ll never forget how it feels.
“No!” I scream, thrashing underneath him, every thought driven out of my head except how desperate I am to get free. “You’re going to kill me like you did Bria! Let me go!Let me fucking go!”
I shriek the last words, kicking and bucking against him, and it takes me a moment to realize that David has gone utterly still above me, his fingers bruising my wrists as he looks down at me with an expression of utter shock.
“Whatdid you just say?”
