Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
It all made it horribly real, and for a moment his dark office with the heavy furniture and wooden bookshelves swam before my eyes.
But I steeled myself, nodded my head when it was expected.
“He’s a very wealthy man,” my lawyer said dryly. “You will be a very comfortable woman, Mrs. Carrington.”
“I don’t care about that,” I said, feeling trickles of fear down my spine.
Was that a sound down the hallway?
“I just want out. As fast as you can get it done. I don’t want any of Michael’s money.”
He looked astounded at this point of view, and turned in stunned silence to his filing cabinet to get more forms for me to sign.
I tightened my fists as I looked at the documents.
Mrs. Michael Carrington
Soon, not anymore.
Suddenly, there was a hand clapped firmly over my mouth and someone was dragging me out of the chair and across the carpet.
I heard the crinkle of the papers I had just signed as they were crushed in his angry fist.
Then I was set on my feet at the end of the hallway, pressed up against the wall so hard I could barely breathe.
“You trying to fuck the lawyer?” Michael’s angry voice grated out in my ear.
I was so startled and stung by his accusation.
“No! You’re the one with a girlfriend!”
He twisted me around to glare at me, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. Unusually, I saw that more locks of his white-gold hair had come out of his usual neat styling and were falling into the cut-glass bones of his face.
“Christ, Lavender, I don’t have a girlfriend. Is that what you think? It’s just sex, that’s all. Just a meaningless fuck now and again at work. It means nothing. You’re the one I love.”
“And I’m not allowed to have meaningless sex?”
“No. You aren’t.”
“I don’t like that.”
“Too fucking bad.”
His hand surrounded the front of my throat and he pulled me after him down the hallway and into the parking garage.
I struggled in his arms, but he was too powerful. He smelled like that expensive cologne, his scent enveloping me as he carried me back to my Jeep.
No one saw the town’s superstar surgeon dragging his wife through the parking garage and shoving her in the passenger seat.
But even if they had . . . who would be in more danger if they tried to stop him?
Michael got in the driver’s seat and reached over and yanked the glove compartment open.
“Here,” he said, dropping a square box in my lap.
Not knowing how to escape, I opened it and a massive pear-cut diamond glinted up at me.
“For you,” my husband said. “An engagement ring upgrade. Your wedding band will fit right beside it.”
I stared at the ring.
It was enormous.
I didn’t even want to know how much this had cost him. It was breathtaking, truly a work of art.
It was a bribe
“I can’t take this,” I said, snapping the lid shut. “It’s too big to wear. Thank you for thinking of me, though.”
My husband was breathing heavily and this close, there was something I didn’t recognize in his eyes, something hard and sharp and feral.
For one quick, frightening moment, I saw that his collar was undone, and there were scratches on his throat. Like he’d clawed his tie off, tore at the button on his collar.
“Lavender Carrington,” he said. “This has gone far enough. You need to understand that you’re mine. I own you. I’ll never let you go.”
“Did you fuck them in our bed?” I asked quietly.
He took one deep, ragged breath in, sounding guttural and raw in the silent darkness of the car.
“No,” he spat. “Our home is sacred to me. The most sacred place on earth.”
Then he dragged me with a steel hard grip over the console and threw me down on the backseat.
“Michael, stop!” I cried shrilly, but he fell on me like a ravenous beast.
I had never seen him like this before—dark, uncontrolled, and violent.
His eyes gleamed at me in the darkness, and I tried to twist away from him, but he split my thighs apart ruthlessly.
“And why is your hair down?” he bit at me jealously, tangling his hand in my long curls until he held them painfully tightly. “Your long hair is only for me.”
Not waiting for an answer, he bent to my throat and began to kiss me, his tongue and bite so hard and possessive that I felt the bruises bloom under his touch.
“You’re scaring me!” I whimpered.
He’d always been so controlled—had prided himself on his control and keeping emotion in check. But now--
“This is what’s real,” Michael said fiercely, his knee grinding into my sensitive pussy. “Nothing else.”
“Let me go!” I cried, trying to push him off. “I don’t want to have sex with you in a parking garage!”
“No,” he said, and my blood ran cold with panic.
Who was this man?
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean, no, I am not going to stop.”
I gasped, and he put a hand on my jaw, popping my mouth open and forcing his tongue in.
Despite myself, I felt my blood heat up, in rage and reluctant furious lust.
“So soft,” he groaned, even though he was marking me up, pressing hard rough heat on my skin. “Want me to put a baby in you? I know you want that.”
I moaned with a strangled sound, trying to scoot back from the hard pressure of his cock against my thin dress.
“Not now. Not anymore.”
“Yes, now. Yes, here. Anywhere I want you.”
He tore my panties down my legs and I felt the cool breeze as he ripped my skirt higher.
I was lying under him, half-naked and wholly exposed, trapped here by his hard hands, but would my husband truly take me like this?
In the divorce lawyer’s parking garage?
Michael’s face was light and shadow above mine, all that beauty and power, and I was wholly at his mercy.
But my eyes were caught by those scrapes down his throat, the blood that had burst to the surface, and as his hands tightened on my wrists, I felt little droplets of blood smear from his fingertips onto my skin.
I gasped in horror and he drove his cock inside me, my thighs shaking as he bottomed out hard, my body feeling swollen with his size.
The rough fabric of his medical coat scraped by my cheek as he drew his cock out, obscenely wet and shining in the darkness of the parking garage.
Then he plunged in again, pressing past my sore labia and into my narrow channel.
“I’m going to get this vasectomy reversed. Give you a baby like you want. We’re going to create something new together.”
I said nothing, his savage thrusts overfilling my pussy, making my lower half feel split open and overpowered.
“Isn’t that what you want?”
I ignored him, closing my eyes so I didn’t have to look at him, and my husband dropped one wrist to slide his fingers down my body, fingers digging deep past my breasts, belly, and then circle my clit.
“Look at me, Lavender! You’re my wife. Give me my sweet wife back again and I promise you’ll get what you’ve always wanted.”
Michael’s lips descended on mine again and I felt my body heating up uncontrollably, hurtling over the cliff into an all-consuming orgasm, shattering through my resistance.
Afterwards, after I had manage to drag my limp body back into the passenger seat, his cum streaming down my legs, my husband spoke again.
“We’ll go to Paris,” he said composedly, as if he hadn’t just savaged me in the back of his car. “We’ll take a tour down the French Riviera. See the Eiffel Tower. Anything you want.”
And I looked out the window. Like I was just an ordinary wife.
Like my husband was just an ordinary man.
Instead of someone I barely recognized.
Someone with a dark side.