Chapter 22
CRABBY IN CUFFS
Maggie
When Hunter returned, he was calmer. He’d composed himself.
Fixed his hair, removed his shirt, and sat on the edge of the tub.
He rubbed my cheek and I had to force myself not to wince.
The spot where he’d hit me was still warm.
I kept my face still anyway. His eyes dropped to the bubbles gently tickling my décolletage.
I let my eyes close for just a second. In the dark behind my lids I put different hands on the edge of that tub.
“You’re so beautiful.” He sipped his drink from the new sake tumbler I gave him, then leaned in and kissed me.
I took the glass from his hand, brought it to my lips, and forced out, “How did scouting go?” I drew in a sip, then handed it back.
“No good,” he said, brushing lint from his knee like he didn’t slap me across the face earlier. “Everyone’s trying too hard. They think the industry is just faked orgasms and perfect lighting.”
“Isn’t it?”
“You know better than that, mo chróí.” He dipped his free hand into the water and navigated straight to my pussy.
Reluctantly, I parted my legs. “I do. But I also know you like things a certain way.”
“I do.” He rubbed two fingers over my clit with the perfect pressure as he leaned in and whispered into my ear, “Text your boyfriend.”
“What? He’s not—”
“Text him.”
My pulse raced. I couldn’t help it when it came to Graham. “O-okay, hand me my phone,” I said, confused, gesturing to my phone on the vanity. “What do you want me to say?”
Something lit up behind his eyes. Not warmth. Something colder. “Tell him you need to see him tonight.”
My thumbs tapped out the words:
I need you. Now. The door’s open.
I knew what this was. I knew what Hunter was doing. And I did it anyway, because some part of me that I wasn’t proud of would take Graham any way I could get him. Even like this.
A few moments later, my phone chimed.
Graham: On my way.
“Good, let’s get you ready.” Hunter tucked my hair to one side and scrubbed the loofah across my back in concentric circles—an attempt at kindness.
Repulsion flooded me.
Everything we’d built before Graham’s return started to crumble the first time he struck me in anger. And every time after that ground it into an unrecognizable powder.