Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“No,” I agreed, twisting away and pulling down my skirt.
“Why not?” he demanded angrily.
“I just didn’t come, I guess,” I said, stepping away from him.
But inside, that bright spark of rebellion grew.
“Lavender Carrington, don’t you fucking dare turn your back on me.”
My heart pounded and I froze in my tracks.
“Are you lying to me?”
I turned around slightly, too frightened to face him fully.
“No, I just didn’t come. Glad you had fun, though.”
The movement was only a flicker in the corner of my eye as he scythed out of the chair like a panther, reaching me in a few strides with those long legs.
“What the fuck do you mean, you didn’t come? You always come. You like it like that.”
I turned away. He smelled as intoxicating as he always did, that expensive cologne mixed with a hint of smoky decadence. But as I saw a muscle flex in his arm all I could think about was what it had looked like holding Alix’s ass up.
“No, I don’t,” I said.
“What do you mean, you don’t like it like that?” Micheal’s voice was a low, throbbing menace, but I fixed my eyes at our big TV, lying flat and sleek on the walls, all the other appliances sleek and new and perfect.
That’s what my life must look like on the outside. Sleek and perfect.
“Are you going to stop cheating on me?” I asked.
He jerked me around and glared with displeasure.
“I’m going to do whatever I want. No, I’m not going to stop fucking other women occasionally. I told you it means nothing. It’s just goddamn easy pussy, Lavender.”
“Well, I fake it,” I said. “Every time.”
Michael said nothing, but I felt cold, tight fingers grip my arm. Then he yanked me closer and put one hand around my throat.
I squeaked. He’d never so much as touched me in anger in our entire lives together.
“Is that so?” he hissed in my ear. “Then you will be coming upstairs with me, and I’ll make you come.”
My husband threw me over his shoulder, knocking all the breath out of my lungs, and started up the stairs.
“Michael—no—Michael--stop!”
He carried me easily up the stairs, the scrubs rubbing against my cheek, then tossed me on the bed so hard my head bounced on the soft mattress.
“You’re going to give me an orgasm or else,” he said savagely, tearing his shirt off.
“Or else what?” I squeaked, trying to crawl away on the bed.
“Or else this,” he snapped, grabbing my leg and yanking me back on my belly.
Then he spanked my ass, but not in a nice cute teasing way, in a hard, painful slap.
And again, flipping me over so I was on my hands and knees.
“Do you touch yourself when you’re alone, you little slut?” he snarled.
Of course I did, but I said nothing.
He spanked my ass, and I hissed in pain.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then show me.”
Michael dragged me upright so I was forced to grip the end of the headboard for support.
“Show me now,” he ordered, sticking just the tip of his dick into my channel, wet with his cum.
Little spurts of cum squirted out and coated his cock as he pressed inside me.
Awkwardly, I parted my lips and began to swirl a finger around my clit.
He reached around and pinched my nipple hard.
“Move your hand so I can see.”
He positioned me so that I was in front of the window, my own reflection shining back at me.
“What if someone’s looking in?” I whimpered.
“That’s the backyard,” he snarled back. “And what if they do? They’ll see me fucking my wife and know you’re mine.”
Without warning, he gripped my hips and plunged harshly inside my cunt.
I had no chance to relax my inner walls, and I squealed in distress at the first panicky moments where I didn’t know if he’d be able to fit in.
“You’re the only one I take fucking raw, Lavender. The only one who gets my cum running down her thighs.”
I said nothing, watching in horrified fascination as my tits shook with the violence of his thrusts.
There was something twisting inside me, and I felt my nipples tauten with arousal. I wanted to stop circling my slippery clit, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Faster,” he said savagely. “I want us to come at the same time.”
My legs were trembling, and he slapped my hand away and replaced my fingers with his.
And then I did make a noise, squealing with distress as he pressed down on my oversensitive clit.
His fingers were masterful, vicious, forcing me to the brink before I could prevent it, and I was flung over the edge, every inch on my body exploding with sensation, my hands desperately clinging to the headboard as he unloaded inside me again.
“You didn’t fake it then, did you, brat?” he hissed.
Stars clustered in the corners of my vision and I felt sweat trickle between my breasts.
“I want a divorce,” I panted.
Michael gripped my face again, forcing me to look at our reflections in the mirror. His much bigger body, those long athletic limbs, and my smaller frame.
“Hell no. I do not agree to that. It’s not happening.”
“It’s not up to you,” I protested.
Michael’s chest heaved behind me and he gripped my throat, fingers biting down into my cheeks.
“Never. I will never allow it, do you understand me?”
He gave me a sharp shake.
“Answer me.”
“All right.”
My legs gave way and I collapsed onto my belly.
Usually, after we had sex in bed, I’d go up and get a cloth, clean us both up.
My husband had said we weren’t getting a divorce. He must know of my shameful love for him. Even despite what he’d done.
However, that didn’t mean I couldn’t resist.
Everything I normally did? Everything that made his life relaxed and calm and peaceful at home? I was going to quit doing it.
Anything he wanted me to do, he was going to have to make me. I would do none of it willingly.
When Michael came back to bed, I didn’t respond when he said, “I love you.”
Or turn and curl into his body.
Or make any response when he put a firm arm around me and pulled me flush against him.
His chest felt hard and taut against my back, the hard muscles of his arm like a steel bar across my chest, my belly. Like he thought I’d get up in the middle of the night and run away.
I lay still, pretending to be asleep and my limbs already felt heavy, the cum sticky on my thighs, as I began to drift to sleep out of exhaustion.
When I didn’t respond in any way to his touch, Michael gripped my hips angrily.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” he hissed in my ear. “You want a baby? Is that what this is about?”
“No,” I said.
All I wanted was my husband to stop cheating on me but he refused, so I was quiet quitting this marriage. . .