Scorch (Virtues & Lies 2)

If that’s what she thinks, it’s not my ease she needs. She needs a lesson on who the fuck she married.

“Don’t ever presume to tell me how to handle my wife. You keep your eyes open and your fucking ears to the ground like I pay you to.”

“This isn’t her fault.”

“Get the fuck out of my way or so help me God, I’ll gut you right here.”

With a snarl and a shake of his head, he stands to the side. “You pay me to protect her.”

“Well done for remembering this time.”

Opening the door, I pause. Arabella’s watching the mantelpiece clock. The butt of her cigarette is glowing between her shaking fingers, like she forgot to smoke it halfway to her mouth. Hunched in on herself, she looks even smaller. The exposed slithers of her back look too bony and gaunt.

Fuck, just the sight of the dress repulses me. The fact she put it on knowing who it was from…the fact that she wore it for another man is enough to make me want to set it on fire with her in it.

“Take it off.” Shutting the door behind me, I watch as she jumps out of her skin, turning toward me so fast she drops the end of her smoke as she steadies herself on the mantelpiece. She quickly picks it up and throws it into the fire.

“Take the fucking dress off.”

Her gaze widens on mine, her fear filling the air with its putrid stench as I take slow, measured steps to where she’s standing.

Good. She should be fucking scared.

Nobody goes behind my back, least of all my wife.

“Oh my God…wha-wha—”

“God isn’t here; he’s not going to help you…so take it off before I rip it off.”

“Christopher.”

“You have until I get to three.”

She looks at me, defiance ripe in her eyes. There would have been a time I would have humoured it. I would’ve played along, given her all the rope she needed to tie herself in knots. Not today. Today I’m done with games. She can either submit to me like the wife her parents raised her to be, or she can get her shit and get the fuck out.

“One.”

Taking a step back, she swallows.

“Two.”

Arabella makes no move as I get closer. He

r face sets into a mask of false control that quivers and threatens to shatter when I stop in front of her. Slowly her eyes lift to mine, soft and doe-like, tinged orange with the light from the fire.

“Three.”

Her sharp exhale warms the hollow of my throat, covering me in chills as my heart sputters in its battering rhythm.

“Think carefully of how you want this to go, Arabella. Consider what you want, because I won’t go easy on you.” Closing my hands above the crease of her elbows, I turn her to face the fire, her back meshing perfectly to my front.

Jesus, she feels so fucking good like this. She feels mine with her head laid back onto my chest, her tits bursting out of the dress with her quickening breaths. I want to fuck her so bad that I’m sure I’ll spill in my pants if I don’t.

Her hands claw at the fabric of my trousers, pinching my flesh as she tries to fist the expensive wool. Leaning over her, I lick the line of her jaw from her ear to her dainty chin…she likes that. I feel the goose bumps cover her skin as my hand traces up her arm to her neck, inching up her jaw until I can squeeze her delicate flesh and bones in my grip. “You broke my heart, it’s only fair I break you now.”

“I am broken.” Her rasp is muffled with my finger between her teeth.

“Not enough.”