43. Cian
Cian
W ith a growl, I flip through the photos on my phone for the tenth time. No matter how many times I look at them, the facts remain the same. Ravenna told me she was going out for drinks with a few of her female co-workers. She lied.
Across from her sits a man. He smiles at her. She laughs at something he said. So do the other women at their table, but in every photo his eyes are on my wife. He barely pays any attention to the others.
The jealous creature within me comes to life. Dark thoughts overtake my mind. I can’t hold back the onslaught.
This right here is the proof I dreaded. My fear becomes a reality. Another man has Ravenna’s attention. What else has she given him? Her body? Her love?
Does she plan to give him her future too?
I slam my phone down on the coffee table hard enough that the screen cracks. Damn it.
Since Brendan sent me these photos a couple of hours ago, I’ve been sitting in the living room, stewing, waiting for my wife to come home.
All possible scenarios have occupied my thoughts.
I’ve considered multiple ways to confront her, and how those could go over.
I should remain calm and talk to her, give her the benefit of the doubt, a chance to explain.
But when the front door clicks open, all rational thought flees my brain. I’m reduced to nothing more than a jealous, possessive beast of a man. Ruled by instinct. Dominated by fear and insecurity.
And I’m angry as fuck.
Standing, I stalk toward my unsuspecting wife. I can’t stand the thought of her leaving me. Her betrayal tears my heart to shreds. Guts me and leaves me to die.
She’s wearing a form fitting dress that hugs her beautiful curves. Hair up in an intricate bun, that exposes her long neck. She’s sin incarnate.
“Hi,” she says, setting her purse on the entry table.
I don’t answer her. Instead, I pull out my switchblade and flick it open. The metallic sound echoes in the hall.
“Cian?” she questions, wariness mars her gorgeous features.
I grab hold of her arm and pin her between me and the wall. Her innocent gaze only fuels my anger, so I spin her around.
My blade rests at the back of her neck. In quick slashes, probably not being as careful as I should be, I cut the dress from her body. But I don’t stop there, I cut away her bra and panties too.
Breathlessly, she says, “You owe me ten new dresses.”
I grunt in response. Wedging my knee between her thighs, I spread her legs wide. She arches her back, sticking out her perfect ass, inviting me in.
Pocketing my knife, I smack her pussy. Once, twice, three times in quick succession. She gasps and tries to straighten up, but I hold her in place by the back of her neck.
“Cian?” She weakly struggles against me, but I’m too strong for her to escape.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl in her ear.
“What—?”
Lining my raging hard cock up with her pussy, I press inside. Ravenna whimpers. She wiggles in my hold, but I keep her still, pumping into her cunt with harsh, angry thrusts.
This isn’t sex, it’s a punishment.
As I use her body, images of her with him drift through my mind’s eye. Has he taken her from behind like this? Does her greedy pussy swallow him whole? Has she come home to me with his cum in her cunt?
The more I imagine them together, the harder I fuck I her.
She doesn’t say a word. She just takes, like she’s repenting for her sins.
The foyer fills with the erotic sounds of slapping flesh. My grunts, and her whimpered moans.
When I’m close, I murmur in her ear, “Does he fuck you like this?”
“Wh-what?”
“Do you moan his name?”
Ravenna tries to break my hold on her, but I have her pinned between my body and the wall. “What are you talking about? Have you gone insane?”
Maybe. Quite possibly.
“Devlin,” I spit out his name. “How many times have you fucked him?”
“I’m not doing this. Get off of me!”
Pulling her into me, my cock buried deep, I cum in her pussy. As soon as I’m finished, I push away, giving us both some space.
She rounds on me with fury heating her grey eyes.
Her slap lands across my face. It stings.
“If you ever treat me like that again, we’re through.
I’m not fucking Devlin, or anyone else. I’m not cheating on you.
But, obviously, you don’t believe me. And you know what?
I don’t care. You need to get your shit together and straighten yourself out.
Don’t fucking touch me again until you do. ”
With that, she storms up the stairs.
Guilt immediately slams into my gut. Fuck , what have I done?
As suddenly as the feeling came on, it recedes. She’s blatantly lying to me. I have evidence right here that this Devlin guy’s into her. If she’s not fucking him now, it’s only a matter of time before she does.
Isn’t it?
Or am I fucking delusional? Am I making a mess of everything?
I want to trust my wife. I do. But I can’t.
I want her to be happy. But even if I can’t give her what she wants, I also can’t let her go so she can find it elsewhere. She’s mine .
I’ve never claimed to be a good man. I’ll fucking lock her up if necessary.
I’m almost at the end of my rope.
In an attempt to give her the benefit of the doubt. Just this once. I consider that maybe Ravenna isn’t the problem. She could be faithful to me, like she insists, while Devlin tempts her to betray me.
I snarl. My fist collides with the wall, which cracks. I don’t give a fuck who he is, he’s a dead man.