Forty-five minutes after I left her to sob on the stairs, I skulked to Shortbread’s room.
It did not surprise me to find it empty.
The silly rose she kept in the Q-tip jar had shed petals all over the place. That the cleaners hadn’t wiped the nightstand surface beneath it must have been my unkempt wife’s doing.
It was not lost on me that she had fused herself into my home so thoroughly, it would become an entirely different place should she choose to leave.
I stalked the hallways in search of Dallas.
Rain pelted the roof, knocking on the windows. The temperature had plummeted since our return from Paris. The cold never bothered me—I was used to it inside and out.
But it occurred to me that my wife might not be enchanted with the bitter frost that arrived once fall drifted away, making room for winter.
Not in the mood for playing hide and seek, I produced my phone and checked her whereabouts through the security cameras.
Rewinding the videos, I found footage of her dragging an oversized Louis Vuitton suitcase to the subterranean garage, two balled fists clutching the handle as if it sheltered a dead body.
A suitcase.
I bolted in that direction.
A potent potion of anger and alarm bubbled in my stomach. What did she think she was doing?
Choosing one of the options you gave her. Leaving, you moron.
It no longer surprised me that I had a reaction to Dallas—a fact at this point.
But it twisted my gut and every inner organ, pretzeling them in a ball of apprehension, to admit just how deeply she dug into my skin. So deep, she seeped through flesh, blood, and bone.
Through stem cells, cerebral scars, and dense layers of ice.
She hit right where it was raw and tender. Where the pain was inescapable. Not because I liked her—for I truly did not like Dallas Costa.
But because I wanted her.
Craved her.
Because touching her was the only goddamn thing I could think about.
By the time I burst through the doors of the underground garage, I had enough rage in me to light up Vegas. Nonetheless, my composure remained impeccable.
Dallas perched atop a mountain of suitcases beside the Maybach, snacking on a small box of strawberry-covered Pocky sticks. Her legs dangled in the air, like a child’s.
It sickened me to see someone so unsophisticated hold so much power over me.
I circled her with my hands knotted behind my back. “Going somewhere nice?”
“Any place away from you is lovely.”
Inside, something—someone—screamed at me to force her to stay. Not because I could tolerate her, but because losing her meant losing to Madison.
Instead, I feigned indifference. “Chapel Falls or the Hamptons?”
“Chapel Falls.” She sucked the strawberry coating clean before dropping the bare stick back into the box. “I don’t mind marrying someone with kids. More children to surround myself with.”
What was with this woman and small humans?
“I’ll call Jared.” I brought my phone to my ear, unbelieving that, for the first time in my thirty-one years, someone had called my bluff—and that that someone enjoyed Henry Plotkin books and Cheaters.
“No need.” A satisfied hum buzzed up her throat at the taste of another Pocky stick. “I already called him. He’s on his way.”
You gave her an ultimatum. She chose. Now walk away with your dignity intact, and find another way to taunt Licht.
I pocketed my phone. “My lawyers will send you some papers to finalize the divorce. Shouldn’t take too long because of the prenup.”
A sweet, toothy smile grew around her snack. “Great!”
“Although…” I advanced a single step. “With the amount of time we’ve been married, perhaps an annulment is a better option.” An annulment would make her a sinner to Chapel Falls. The town would never let her live it down.
Dallas flipped her hair onto one shoulder, unmoved. “Listen here, Costa. I don’t care if you send me back with a pack of Chippendales at my side covered in used condoms. Anything is better than living in a prison, where I am constantly monitored, simultaneously ignored, and refused the only thing I want from you—a baby.”
“Is this truly the height of your aspirations?” I scowled. “To become a vessel to carry someone else, then their servant for the next eighteen years?”
“Yes. And before you tell me I need to smash the walls of patriarchy, wanting to fulfill myself as a mother and recognizing this is my passion is a choice just as noble as becoming a neurosurgeon.”
I was in complete disagreement with her, as usual, but it was pointless to debate the matter.
A few seconds passed in silence.
“Why’re you still here?” She yawned. “Go away. Jared will be here any moment, and I’ll be nothing but an unfortunate memory.”
I should go.
Pivot and leave.
To my relief, I started doing just that.
The echo of my footsteps bounced on the bare walls. I did not look back. Knew that if I caught a glimpse of her again, I’d make a mistake.
This was for the best.
It was time to cut my losses, admit my one mistake in my thirty-one years of life, and move on. My life would return to normal.
Peaceful. Tidy. Noiseless.
Unexpensive.
My hand curled around the doorknob, about to push it open.
“Hey, asshole.”
I stopped but didn’t turn around.
I refused to answer to the word.
“What do you say—one last time for the road?”
I glanced behind my shoulder, knowing I shouldn’t, and found my soon-to-be ex-wife propped on the hood of my Maybach, her dress hiked up her waist, revealing she’d worn no panties.
Her bare pussy glistened, ready for me.
A dare.
I never shied away from those.
Throwing caution to the wind (and the remaining few brain cells she hadn’t fried with her mindless conversation), I marched to her.
When I reached the car, she lifted her hand to stop me, slapping her palm against my chest. “Not so fast.”
It is going to be fast and a half, seeing as I’m about to come just from watching you like this.
I arched an eyebrow. “Cold feet?”
“Nah, low temperature is your thing. Don’t wanna steal your thunder. Either we go all the way, or we go nowhere at all. It’s all or nothing.”
It infuriated me that each time I gave her a choice, she fabricated another.
If I gave her an option, she swapped it with one of her creation. And now, on the heels of my ultimatum, she’d dished out her own.
And like a doomed fool, I chose everything.
I chose my downfall.
We exploded together in a filthy, frustrated kiss full of tongue and teeth. She latched on to my neck, half-choking me, half-hugging me.
I fumbled with the zipper of my suit pants, freeing my cock, which by this point gleamed with precum, so heavy and so hard it was uncomfortable to stand.
My teeth grazed down her chin, trailing her throat before I did what I hadn’t done in five fucking years and pushed into her, all at once.
Bare.
My cock disappeared inside her, hitting a hot spot, squeezed to death by her muscles.
Oh, fuck.
My forehead fell against hers. A thin coat of sweat glued us together. Never in my life had anything felt quite so good.
I wanted to evaporate into mist, seep into her, and never come back.
I wanted to live, breathe, and exist inside my beautiful, maddening, conniving, infuriating curse of a wife.
She was the one thing I never wanted and the only thing I craved. Worst, still, was the fact that I knew I couldn’t deny her a single thing she desired, be it a frock or piece of jewelry.
Or, unfortunately, my heart on a platter, speared straight through with a skewer for her to devour. Still beating and as vibrant red as candied apples.
I retreated, then slammed into her harder. Pulled and rushed back in.
My fingers gripped her by the waist, pinning her down, wild with lust and desire. I drove into her in jerky, frenzied movements of a man starved for sex, fucking the ever-living shit out of her.
Now that I’d officially filed a restraining order against my logic, I grabbed the front of her throat, sinking my teeth onto her lower lip. My spearmint breath skated over her face.
The hood of the car warmed her thighs, still hot from the engine, jacking up the temperature between us even further.
Small, desperate yelps fled her mouth.
The only sounds in the cavernous space came from my grunts, our skin slapping together, and her tiny gasps of pleasure. The car rocked back and forth to the rhythm of my thrusts.
Dallas latched on to the forearm of my hand curled around her throat and plastered her back against the hood of the car as I continued fucking her hard.
The door behind us opened, and Jared walked in. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Get the fuck out,” I roared.
My demand shook the walls so hard I was surprised they hadn’t cracked.
The door promptly closed.
Perhaps because it was, by far, the most pleasurable experience I’d ever had, the orgasm wasn’t instant. It skulked forward, gripping each of my limbs with its claws, taking over me like a drug. I knew I’d regret what was about to happen.
Yet, I could not even entertain the idea of stopping.
Dallas quaked beneath me. The muscles of her thighs strained. Sliding into her hot tightness a few more times, I finally erupted inside her.
It was glorious. And at the same time, felt as if someone had sucked my chest empty.
I came, and I came, and I came into Dallas’s cunt.
When I finally pulled out, everything between us was sticky. I peered down between her legs.
My thick white cum dripped from her swollen red slit to the hood of my car. Pink flakes of blood scattered inside the cloudy, milky liquid.
Panting and out of breath, I realized this marked the first time that I’d lost myself to a moment.
That I’d forgotten everything.
Including the fact that she was present.
My gaze rode up her bruised pussy to her torso. Sometime during sex, I’d torn the top of her dress without even noticing.
Red marks covered her exposed breasts. Full of scratches and bites.
Her neck still bore the imprints of my fingers—how hard had I grabbed her?
And though I dreaded seeing the aftermath on her face, I couldn’t stop myself.
I looked up and nearly keeled over to vomit.
Flushed pink cloaked her face. A single silent tear traveled down her cheek. A glossy sheen coated her hazel eyes, almost golden in their tone and empty as my chest.
The corner of her lips had produced a thin line of blood. Her doing. Not mine. She’d bitten them to tamp down her pained cries.
Shortbread wanted me to fuck her bareback so badly, she’d suffered through the entire ordeal.
Incomparable guilt slammed into me. Bitterness hit the back of my throat.
I’d taken her without considering her pleasure. Against my better judgment. And in the process, I’d ruined her first genuine experience of sex.
“Sorry.” I jerked away from Dallas, shoved my dripping half-mast cock back into my pants, and zipped up. “Jesus. Fuck. I’m so—”
The rest of the sentence vanished in my throat.
I shook my head, still in disbelief that I’d fucked her to the point of blood and tears. Without even sparing her a glance.
She sat up. That lone tear still shimmered from her cheek, somehow even worse than a loud sob.
“Do you have any gum?” The perfect, even composure braided into her voice rattled me.
In fact, everything about Dallas rattled me.
On autopilot, I produced two pieces of gum from my tin container, forking them over to her. She tucked both into her pretty pink mouth that I would never kiss and fuck again.
“Shortbread…” I stopped.
An apology wouldn’t even begin to cover it.
“No. It’s my time to speak.” She made no move to flee. To slap me. To call the police, her parents, her sister.
My cum still dripped fat white drops through her exposed pussy. A single streak of blood smeared across the hood of my car.
I stood far enough from her that I wasn’t a threat and listened.
“I want you to stop having me followed.” The words came out as if they were spoken within the cold, clinical walls of a boardroom. Before an army of shareholders, not a husband. “No more cars tailing Jared. No more security detail. And no more monitoring me through cameras. I feel like I’m a Big Brother contestant. Only, I can never win.” She threw her hands up. “I want this to be my home, not my prison.”
The surprise from hearing she wanted to stay nearly brought me to my knees. I remained standing, though, my face impassive.
If there was one thing I’d learned from my father, it was to stand tall and proud, even when you had nothing to be proud of.
She sank her teeth into the gum, a blank expression on her face, reminding me of myself for one startling moment. “Tell me you understand and it will be done, or I am moving out and giving you the divorce you want so much.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I was calling her an Uber that would take her back to Bibleville. However, my rationality wouldn’t allow my pride to override my senses.
“That’s acceptable.”
She drew in a ragged breath. “I want to have a baby.”
And what I wanted was for her to take Plan B. But such a request would be cowardly. It wasn’t her fault I’d lost control.
We both played to win. The home team—me—had suffered an unexpected loss today. No need to cheat her out of her victory. No matter how big it might turn out to be.
She could get pregnant.
These past twenty minutes could determine the rest of my life.
I retrieved my tin container, popping a piece of gum past my lips. “Well, I don’t.”
“Why are you so against procreating?”
“Trauma.”
“Are you ever going to tell me?”
“No.”
She didn’t seem surprised by my answer. Or upset. In fact, as I advanced toward her, I noticed tiny bubbles peppering the tear, which still hadn’t evaporated.
No. Not a tear.
Was that…spit?
I realized, for the first time, that I’d never actually seen Dallas cry.
Ever.
Something shifted in me just then. I no longer saw Dallas Costa as a nuisance. After all, she held the upper hand in almost all of our mental games.
And this time, she’d brought me to the brink, then tipped me over the edge. Made me fuck her bareback, and feel guilty about the whole thing, and bargain with her, too.
Dallas Costa was no plaything. She was my equal, and it would be wise to treat her as such.
Shortbread frowned, most likely debating what she wanted to bargain for in our negotiation. If I gave her the opportunity to speak first, the request would probably be every inch of my soul.
“I’ll give you freedom if you give me time.” The words rolled off my tongue of their own accord.
“Time for what?”
Time to discard of you on my terms after completing my task of ruining Madison Licht.
“To think about babies,” I lied.
She considered this.
Before she could answer, I added, “But I have a condition, too.”
She licked her lips, nodding. “I’ll never meet Madison again.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
She hopped off the hood of the Maybach, her dress still askew and tucked around her waist.
My cum dripped down her thigh, traveling to her knees and ankles. Dry, matted blood the shape of clouds stamped to her inner thighs.
We both watched them in silence.
“Want me to lick it better?” I heard myself grunt out.
“Yes, thank you.”
