Chapter 9
KARINA
How would the countess in red from the naughty book I read in my younger years handle this?
She’d kick ass, that’s what.
Anger blazes through me as I chase after Marco and his little side piece without intentional thought.
The woman angles her head and watches me approach, cocking a brow as if she’s challenging me.
Unfortunately, my heels are taller than I’m used to, so I can’t hustle over there as fast as I’d like and put my foot up her ass.
By the time I reach them, the woman has pulled away from my husband.
Her fingers take a long time to untangle from his and he doesn’t seem in any hurry to detach from her, either.
I am both raging with anger and melting with sadness.
Marco has been like a dream to me since the first time we met.
But the handsome, dashing man who swept me off my feet—who stole my heart, who stole my virginity, who married me—just had his hands all over another woman’s ass.
“Marco.” I slow to a dead stop behind him and lift my chin high as he spins around to face me in surprise. “Would you like to introduce me to your new friend?”
It hits me just then. Is this what Candi was talking about?
Because even though I’m mad as hell—even though I’ve just been betrayed and humiliated, in public no less—just confronting him makes me feel more powerful.
There is no doubt in my mind that I will not enjoy the outcome of this altercation, but I need to stand up for myself. For now and for always.
The woman flutters her fingers at me. “Oh, no need. I was just leaving. He’s all yours. But just for the record, sweet cheeks? Marco and I? We go way back.”
She winks at Marco and sashays away.
I watch her go, my insides a fiery volcano, trying to gather my emotions and temper my words.
But with this white-hot fury pumping through my veins, I can’t even form proper words right now.
The utter lack of guilt, remorse, or apology on Marco’s face only flames my rage.
I have never been one much for swearing.
In fact, I’ve tried my entire life to use good language.
It was the one thing that made me feel like I could separate myself from my family. But right now—
“Who the fuck was that?” I hiss.
“Nobody,” Marco says nonchalantly.
“Oh, so we’re back to having nobodies in our lives?”
He sighs, as if he’s bored of this conversation already. “There are certain things in my life that you don’t need to concern yourself with, Karina. That woman is one of them.”
“You had your hand on her ass.”
Marco steps back involuntarily, his eyes widening. I don’t know what shocked him more: the way I just spoke to him, or the fact that I called him out at all.
He works his jaw in that way that he has when he’s considering something and then grabs my wrist and tugs me along behind him.
People attempt to speak to us as we pass, but he ignores them.
We keep going until we reach the backside of the winery.
It’s dark inside the building and the air is sweet with the tang of fermenting grapes.
The lack of light doesn’t seem to dissuade him as he turns left and then right and then opens the door and shoves me inside.
A light flicks on and I realize we’re inside a small office.
“You’re lucky her ass is the only thing I put my hands on,” he growls.
The words are vicious, and clearly meant to work me up even more.
“Excuse me?”
“Excuse you? Excuse you?” His voice stays low, but his anger is more than evident. “You think I should excuse you for denying your husband sex? No. No, I won’t excuse that.”
Both of us are breathing hard now.
“Oh, so this is all about your dick again?” I shout. “I swear to God, you’re worse than a fucking teenager. Do you think of nothing else but finding someone to stick your cock in?”
Like, I don’t know, how I feel about anything? I think, but don’t say aloud.
“My race car,” he shoots back immediately.
I’m too incensed to speak. He advances on me and grabs my upper arms roughly.
“Do you have any fucking idea how mind-blowingly sexy you look in the clothes I picked out for you tonight? Do you have any goddamn clue what it does to me, having you stand right there next to me for hours, so close I can smell your hair, but knowing I can’t have you?”
Grabbing my wrist, he lowers my hand to his crotch. I exhale hard. He’s rock-hard, the length of him standing straight up against his pants. He groans and juts into me.
“I need you to take care of this, Karina. It’s yours now. Tell me you don’t want it.”
My mouth is watering. Of course I want it.
Want him. Every last inch. And God, it would be so easy to give in, especially when I know exactly what he can do to me.
My body aches for the pleasure only Marco can give me.
I’ve been burning for his touch for days and days and every long fucking night, wishing he’d crawl into bed with me and sink that cock deep and true.
I rip my hand away from him. “That’s not what our relationship is about, remember?”
He unbuttons his slacks. I’m mesmerized as he pulls down the zipper. His pants fall open, revealing the tip of his cock edging out from the waistband of his briefs. It’s plump and pink and glistening with moisture. I can feel myself start to tremble with need.
Marco runs his thumb over the tip, swirling his slickness around the head.
“You want to suck this. You want it in you. Why do you deny yourself? You’re my wife.”
“Marco.” His name was supposed to be a warning, but it’s lost as my voice breaks.
“If you aren’t going to take care of this, who will?” he seethes. “I’m hard for you, Karina. I’m ready for you. But you seem to prefer I fuck other people. Is that what you want?”
“No, I just—fuck off!”
In a rage, I turn to leave, but he grabs me and shoves me back against the desk. My body floods with desire as he stands in front of me, blocking me in with one hand flat on the desktop, taking out his cock with the other. Our breaths mingle, the tension between us sparking hot.
“Fine. Then you can stand there and watch while I take care of this problem myself.”
He strokes his hand up and down his shaft, swirling his finger over the fat tip as another drop of precum appears.
The thick veins of his cock stand out as he works himself, up and down, twisting and squeezing, groaning like an animal.
He’s so hard, so desperate, and it’s so hot I can’t stop myself from staring, from licking my lips.
He could sink into me so easily right now, slamming into me over and over, deeper and harder and faster, until we’re both coming on this desk.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt him inside me, so long, too long…
“Fuck, Karina. I wish I was inside you right now. Inside your tight, wet pussy.”
A gasp escapes my lips. He jacks his cock faster. I can’t pull my eyes away.
“Lean back on the desk like a good girl and give me what I want.”
My breath comes faster and harder. The ache between my legs is almost unbearable. I can feel my panties soaking through. God, I want…I want…
“No,” I breathe. “No, I won’t.”
“Then let me touch you.”
I shake my head. My body is my own, and I don’t want him to have it.
“Karina—”
Marco closes his eyes, tilting his head back.
“Stop trying to get what you want from me,” I tell him, my voice shaking with the effort of keeping myself under control. “I’m my own person.”
“You’re stubborn. And unreasonable,” he grunts, jerking harder, swinging his hips.
“You threatened to fuck other people! That tends to not make women reasonable.”
He moves back a bit, giving himself more room. It’s so hot, so erotic watching him. I’ve never imagined something like this. The scent of heat and desire mixed with the sweetness of wine. His gorgeous cock, engorged and perfect and so ready. His strong face, tight with pleasure.
“Marco.”
Plenty of women showed blatant interest in him tonight, some of them right in front of me.
It’s not like he’ll have any trouble finding company for his bed.
It’s possible he’s even been with some of those women already.
Or all of them. How many of his past lovers were here this evening?
For all I know, it was a fucking buffet of women for Marco. He could take his pick.
“Give me your hand,” he says.
Marco reaches for me, and I don’t stop him.
He brings my palm to his shaft and I wrap my fingers around him on instinct.
He’s hot and smooth, the hard length slick and wet from his precum.
Marco jerks into my hand, pumping his hips, but I don’t let go.
I can’t. I want to, but more than that, I don’t want to.
He joins me, wrapping his hand around mine so we’re both jerking him off, his face tensing, his moans pitching deeper, as if he’s getting close.
“No,” I say.
I pull my hand back like I’ve been burned and stumble away from him.
He watches me, still breathing hard, but he isn’t touching himself anymore. I’m frozen in place, torn between running as fast and as far as I can, and staying here to watch him finish. But he doesn’t. A moment later, he tucks himself back in and fixes his pants.
“Guess it will be Jessica, then.”
He pounds a fist on the desk and storms out, slamming the door behind him.
My first reaction is to go after him. Follow him through the crowd outside and see which woman he goes to, but I’m not sure how to get through this building in the dark.
Not only that, but I’m afraid to see who he chooses.
Maybe it’s better not to know. That way some part of me can still hold on to the hope that he might not really be taking someone else to bed.
It’s a lie I’m willing to tell myself until I have proof otherwise.
Normally in a situation like this, I’d lock that office door and cry in here alone, lost in my own misery. But my eyes stay dry. I know that I brought this on myself, but I also know that Marco is being a complete asshole. For the moment, my anger is stronger than my pain.
Leaving the office, I feel my way along the wall until I flick a switch that casts light from a bank of fluorescents overhead, illuminating the interior of the building.
The exit door I find brings me outside to the opposite side of the event space, and I’m finally able to make my way back to the crowd.
Searching the remaining faces for anyone familiar, I spy Frankie resting in a chair at the edge of all the good cheer and general hubbub.
“Karina, hey!” she says, waving me over. “Are you enjoying yourself? Marco asked for Dante and me to walk you home when you’re ready. You just let me know.”
My heart sinks. “Marco left already?”
Her face skews. “Didn’t he…tell you goodbye?”
“Must have been in a hurry,” I say lamely.
Plastering on my trademark fake smile, I sink into the seat next to her and make polite small talk about the event, even though my heart is cracking into a million pieces.
He couldn’t even help me out of the building and return me to the party.
He had to chase his desires at my expense. I feel as if I’ve been gutted.
My husband just ran off with another woman.
And I can’t even fall apart until I get home.