Chapter 10
“Presley Anne, what are you doing out here in the dark?”
I blink as my mother flips on the porch light. “Just thinkin’.”
She gives me a sad smile. “Come inside. I’m just about to get breakfast started.”
I nod, wrapping the blanket more securely around my shoulders. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower first. I can meet you in the kitchen after.”
“Sure, honey.”
She avoids looking at my face, and I can’t say I blame her. When I got a glimpse in the mirror above my dresser, it didn’t look any better than it did last night. In fact, I think it may look worse. If I’m not mistaken, the purple bruising is a shade or two deeper now.
Like the coward that I am, I take my sweet time in the shower. It’s already taking me longer than usual, trying to do everything with only one arm, but when I grab the apple-scented shampoo off the shelf—the same shampoo I favored in my teenage years—I lose it. I sink to the bottom of the tub in the fetal position and cry like a baby. I make no effort to move, even as the icy water pelts my skin and causes my teeth to chatter. My chest squeezes as I think about the events that led me here.
I startle when I hear the familiar hum of the private elevator that leads directly into our penthouse. As the steel doors open, Sebastian’s eyes widen when he sees me sitting on the couch. I can’t say I blame him; I’m not usually up this late. It’s not uncommon for my husband to work well into the evening. However, ever since I got this anonymous text, I wonder how many of those nights he legitimately spent working. Most days, I go to bed early, hoping that when he does return home, he’s too tired for sex. It doesn’t always work, but on the nights it does, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Darling, what are you doing up this late?”
I rise from the couch, my arm falling to the side. “I was waiting for you.”
“Is that so?” He gives me a wolfish grin as he removes his suit jacket and drapes it over one of the foyer chairs. “Is there something you want from me? I’ve had a long day, but I wouldn’t be opposed to having those pretty lips of yours wrapped around my cock. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? I know how much you enjoy pleasuring me with your mouth.”
Sebastian saunters toward me, loosening his tie and unfastening the top button of his shirt. I have to fight a shudder as his eyes travel the length of my body; I can see him hardening beneath his slacks.
I hold my hand up in a stop gesture as he unfastens his belt. “I wanted to talk to you about something I learned today.”
He frowns. “We can talk tomorrow. Right now, you’re going to get on your knees and suck me off like a good girl.”
I take a step back when Sebastian reaches out, presumably to push on my shoulders until I’m kneeling before him. That’s his preferred method of receiving. No doubt, because he can lord over me while I’m forced to perform the act.
“No, Sebastian. I’m not. We’re going to talk.”
He releases a sardonic laugh. He’s not used to me fighting back. I’ve learned Sebastian’s not nearly as rough if I just keep my mouth shut and pray for it to be over quickly. On occasion, he’ll even pretend like he’s a generous lover and performs oral sex on me. Despite his irrefutable talent in that area, I haven’t orgasmed once in over ten years, not that he would care to notice.
I used to love making love. The physical gratification, being emboldened by watching the man I love coming apart from the pleasure I give him. The intimacy of being as close as two people can be... I adored everything about it. At one point, I was worried there was something wrong with me, that my libido might be a little too high, but that thought is absurd now. While my husband has never technically forced himself on me, I wouldn’t exactly consider myself a willing participant either. I suppose you could say I’ve become indifferent.
Or, more likely, dead inside.
When sex is never on your terms, desire fades more and more each day, until one day, it disappears entirely. That’s how it’s been for me, at least. I can say without a doubt, I’d be perfectly content never having sex again. Of course, that doesn’t work for Sebastian’s delicate ego—God forbid a woman reject him, especially his wife—so I’ve spent many years pretending otherwise. Sebastian’s fuse is short, and one thing that’ll blow that fuse faster than anything is telling him no, for any reason, on any matter.
On the rare occasion I couldn’t convince myself to submit to his advances, I’d regretted it almost immediately while I was serving as his punching bag. My husband needs an outlet for the beast raging inside of him, especially if he’s been drinking, and he’s decided I’m that outlet, one way or the other. Allowing him into my body is the best way I’ve figured out how to manage the situation because when he gets off, he’s much more pleasant to be around. And more often than not, he’ll fall asleep within minutes after he orgasms, which affords me some much-needed peace, no matter how temporary.
“Fine. We can talk after I come all over your tits.” He gives me a smarmy smile. “C’mon, baby. I know how much you love my pearl necklaces.”
I’ve been such a fool, haven’t I? All these years, I’ve been playing along to keep the monster at bay, but I thought for sure he knew—whether he was willing to admit it or not—that my compliance wasn’t out of love or loyalty, and definitely not out of lust. For some reason, it made it easier for me to stomach. Sure, I was a puppet to his whims, but if he knew deep down I didn’t really want him, it made his abuse more palatable in my head. It was a small victory I clung to, to help me get through the worst of it. Sebastian’s arrogance knows no bounds, but he’s a brilliant man. After our first two years together, fear and self-preservation—and okay, shame, too—have been my only motivators. But now, seeing that look in his eye, I’ve no doubt, he actually thinks I want him, that I crave his touch. And if that’s true, the man’s genuinely unhinged.
Either that or my acting is so phenomenal, I should have won ten Oscars by now.
“Oh, this should be good. What could possibly be so important that it comes before your wifely duties?”
I unlock my phone, hit play on the video, and extend my arm, turning the screen toward him. “This. This is what’s so important.”
His blue eyes harden as they narrow in on the screen. His hand lashes out like a viper, grabbing my wrist, yanking my arm to bring the phone closer. “What the fuck is this?”
I lift my chin, refusing to acknowledge the pain from his grip. “I think it’s fairly obvious what it is, Sebastian. My question is, how long has this been happening? Is she the only woman you’re screwing behind my back, or are there more?”
“Don’t play games with me, you bitch! Where the fuck did you get this?!” Spittle flies on my face as he screams. I cry out when he twists my wrist as he pulls the phone out of my hand. “Where. The. Fuck. Did. This. Come. From. Presley? What are you up to?”
“What am I up to?” I’m screaming now, too. “I’m not the one who’s cheating, Sebastian! How could you do this to me? It’s not like you’re not getting enough sex at home. After everything... how could you? I’ve put up with a lot from you, but I won’t put up with this. I refuse to be humiliated any longer! I w?—”
“You ungrateful cunt! I’m going to fucking kill you!”
I stumble as his fist slams into my mouth, cutting off my words. I’m stunned for a moment as I press my fingertips to my lips, and they come back coated in red. This isn’t the first time he’s hit me. Hell, it’s probably not even the hundredth. But out of all the other times, I’ve never seen him so manic. Sebastian’s threatened to kill me before, but I never felt the weight of those words like I do now. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I don’t get out of here, he might just live up to that threat. I do the only thing I can think of.
I run.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Sebastian booms, grabbing my long hair and pulling backward. “We’re not finished here.”
My stomach drops as he slams me to the floor, jabbing a knee into my lower spine. I whimper as he starts yanking at my pants, pulling roughly on my panties to get them down as well. “Sebastian, don’t. Please.”
A dark chuckle falls from his lips. I can smell the whiskey on his breath as he nudges the bridge of his nose against my earlobe. “You don’t get to make demands, darling. What you do get to do is accept your punishment for being so disrespectful. I mean, really, is that any way to treat the man who’s been caring for you all these years?” He brushes my hair aside and clamps his teeth down on my neck, licking the same spot when I cry out in pain. “The man who loves you, who vowed to take you as his wife until death do us part.”
I tremble as he spears me with two fingers, pumping them in and out. I’m bone dry and in no way prepared, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he simply doesn’t care. His fingernails scratch my insides as he works the digits in and out, whispering words of encouragement, telling me what a good girl I’m being, how good I’m going to feel around his cock. I hate myself for allowing this, but I’m paralyzed with fear. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find the strength to fight back. If he does this, if he takes my body without consent, I don’t know if I’d ever recover from that. After everything he’s done over the years, that’s the one line I never thought he’d cross. It seems ridiculous now—if he felt no remorse beating the shit out of me, why would he have any now?
I scramble when Sebastian flips me over but freeze when his hand wraps around the front of my neck. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He squeezes tightly in warning. “I can end your life in a second, Presley. Do you really want that?”
I actually consider it for a moment.
Sebastian grins when he sees the tears pouring down my face. I shudder when he licks a path over my cheek, collecting the salty liquid with his tongue. “Mmm, I love the taste of your tears. So. Fucking. Sexy.”
“Sebastian... please... don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
His face twists in anger. “When are you going to learn? You don’t make the rules, Presley!” With one hand manacled around my neck, he uses the other to yank my shirt open. Buttons go flying right before he pops open the front clasp of my bra, exposing my bare breasts to his greedy eyes. He circles my areola with his finger, pinching the tip until I cry out in pain. “Ah, there’s my gorgeous tits. Every time I see them, I want to thank Dr. Malcolm for doing such a fantastic job.”
I was perfectly happy with my smaller breasts until one too many less-than-subtle hints from my husband about surgery ate at my self-esteem. I thought the augmentation was my idea at the time, but if I had to do it over again, I wouldn’t.
My eyes slam shut as he seals his mouth around one nipple, then the other. I press my lips together to stifle my scream as he moans, and I feel his dick jerk against my thigh. My fear seems to excite him more, and the last thing I want to do is encourage him. I want nothing more than to buck him off, but I know trying would be futile. Sebastian has almost a hundred pounds on me, and he’s using every bit of that to his advantage right now, pinning me to the hardwood floor. A calmness settles over me as I accept what I have to do. Getting out of this alive needs to be my top priority. If I make him any angrier, my chances of escaping this apartment are slim to none. That doesn’t mean I won’t try to appeal to any shred of humanity he might have left, though.
“Sebastian... please. Don’t do this. If you really love me, you won’t do this.”
He removes his mouth from my breast to work his pants down over his backside, just enough to free his erection. “Shut up and pay your penance, bitch.”
I whimper, accepting my fate.
When he notices I’m no longer struggling, he cants his head to the side, assessing me carefully. I look him directly in the eye with as much hatred as I can possibly manage. If Sebastian insists on doing this, I’m going to make damn sure he knows it’s not freely offered. I’m going to leave no doubt as to how much he disgusts me. And when it’s over, one way or another, I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure it’s the last time he ever gets his hands on me.
A cruel smirk forms on his lips as he enters me. Despite his earlier attempts, there’s no lubrication, but he somehow forces himself inside anyway. One of his hands remains on my throat, daring me to give him a reason to squeeze, while the other digs into my hip with bruising force as he pistons in and out of my body. Sebastian is well-endowed, so the pain steals my breath. I bite my tongue and cheek, dig my fingernails into my palms. I do anything I can think of to distract myself from the horror of it, so I don’t give him the satisfaction of crying out. This man has had enough of my tears, and I refuse to give him any more.
Sebastian takes my silence as a challenge, one I readily accept. No matter how roughly he drills into me, no matter how hard he pinches my nipples or digs his thumb into my inner thigh, I refuse to make a peep. It’s the most remarkable performance I’ve ever given because while I may appear stoic on the surface, I’m dying on the inside. Any inkling of hope I may have been holding on to has been shredded beyond repair. The longer it goes on, the more enraged he becomes when I don’t give him the response he’s looking for. When his body stiffens, and he spills his seed into me, I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing it’s almost over.
But my relief is short-lived as I see the look on his face when he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. He’s deceptively calm, so much so, I ask myself if this is the moment I die? My husband’s fists come flying at me so fast, I don’t even have a chance to blink before they meet my flesh. Sebastian doesn’t say a word as he rains blow after blow down on my body. My face, my ribs, my stomach, nothing is off the table. He’s no longer concerned about limiting his punches to non-visible places. I finally break and scream so hard my throat is raw when he twists my arm at an unnatural angle, causing excruciating pain in my shoulder. When he releases me, my arm falls limply to my side, completely useless. I’m almost certain he pulled it right out of its socket. I double over, vomiting all over the expensive rug. The last thing I see before blacking out is Sebastian’s designer loafer coming at the side of my head.