Sarah
Matthew's hands grip my waist roughly, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulls flush against his body. His lips crash against mine, hungry and demanding, and I et him with equal hunger.
We stumble backward until my back hits the wall. Matthew's hands roam over my body, tugging impatiently at the fabric of my dress. I arch into his touch, a gasp escaping my lips as his hand finds my breast, kneading it roughly through the thin material.
With a growl, Matthew rips the straps of my dress, exposing my skin to his heated gaze. His mouth trails down my neck, biting and sucking. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him close, needing to feel him against .
I don't think I can stop him tonight. I don't think I want to.
Matthew lifts suddenly and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries to the bed, dropping onto the mattress. He sheds his shirt before crawling over , his eyes dark with lust and anger.
I reach for him, my nails raking down his back as he settles between my thighs. I can feel his hardness pressing against and I buck my hips. Matthew hisses through clenched teeth.
"Is this what you want, Sarah?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You want to fuck you?"
"Yes," I breathe, too far gone to care about anything else.
With a muttered curse, he thrusts into , filling completely. I cry out, my back arching off the bed at the sudden intrusion. Matthew sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against mine with bruising force.
It hurts. It hurts so much it makes my head spin. I feel like a worm on a hook, but I ignore it.
All that mattered was the feeling of him inside , stretching , filling so completely that I thought I might shatter from the sheer intensity of it. I am willing to endure any amount of pain because he is finally becoming one with .
Pathetic, I know.
"Is this what you wanted?" Matthew growls against my skin, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. "To be fucked like a whore by the husband you trapped into marriage?"
Tears sting my eyes at his cruel words, but I blink them back, refusing to let them fall.
Even now, in the midst of this brutal, punishing act, I can feel the pain radiating off him in waves. It's in the tension of his muscles, the harsh rasp of his breath against my skin.
This isn't just anger. It's anguish, raw and bleeding. The anguish of a man whose heart has been shattered into jagged shards. And I put those shards there.
"Matthew," I whisper, my voice breaking on his na. I reach up to cup his face, my thumb brushing over the sharp angle of his cheekbone. He flinches at my touch, his eyes squeezing shut as if he can't bear to look at .
"I'm sorry," I breathe, the words tearing from my throat. "I'm so sorry for everything."
He stills above , his breath coming in harsh pants. For a long mont, he doesn't move, doesn't speak. Then, slowly, he opens his eyes. They're dark and stormy.
"Sorry isn't enough," he rasps. "Sorry will never be enough."
He starts to move again, but the frenzied urgency from before is gone. I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders, my legs wrapped tight around his waist as the pain slowly starts to turn into pleasure.
I know I should hate this, hate him. But I can't. Even now, even like this, I love him. I love him so much it consus . He is mine. MINE.
"I know," I manage, my words hitching on a gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside .
Matthew thrusts into again and again. The pleasure builds inside , coiling tighter and tighter until it finally shatters. I cry out, my body arching off the bed as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over .
Matthew follows a mont later with a guttural groan, his hips faltering against mine as he finds his own release. For a few blissful seconds, we are lost in the haze of pleasure, our bodies still intimately joined.
But then the mont passes, and reality cos crashing back in.
Matthew rolls off , his chest heaving as he stares up at the ceiling. I turn my head to look at him, taking in the sharp angles of his profile, the clenched set of his jaw. He won't et my eyes.
Matthew sits up abruptly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The sudden movent makes flinch, my body still raw and tender from his brutal possession.
He stands, his back to , as he reaches for his discarded shirt on the floor.
Matthew pulls on his shirt, his movents sharp and jerky. I watch him, my heart in my throat, waiting for him to say sothing, anything.
But he doesn't. He just stands there, his back to , his shoulders tense.
"Ma-tthew..." I start but stop as he speaks.
"So you were a virgin, huh? I have to say, I'm surprised. I thought for sure you would have spread your legs for soone by now, given how desperately you threw yourself at ."
I flinch at his cruel words but don't make a sound.
"I guess Daddy's little princess was saving herself for her wedding night," Matthew continues, his tone dripping with contempt. "How sweet. Too bad it was wasted on soone who hates you."
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back furiously, refusing to let him see how much he is hurting .
"You seed to stand the sight of just fine a few minutes ago," I manage to say, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts.
Matthew scoffs, finally turning to face . His eyes are hard and cold, no trace of the passion that had darkened them earlier. "Don't flatter yourself. A hole is a hole. Yours was just...convenient. I needed to take my frustration out on sothing, that's all."
I recoil as if he had physically hit . I knew he was cruel, but this...this is a new level of heartlessness, even for him.
He turns away again, zipping up his pants and buckling his belt with quick, efficient movents.
"Where are you going?" I ask quietly.
"To sleep in the guestroom. You didn't actually think I would sleep in the sa bed with you, did you?" he asked mockingly.
I look down. "No, of course not."
And then he's gone, the bedroom door slamming shut behind him.
I should feel used, violated even. And part of does. But beneath the humiliation and the hurt, there's sothing else. A tiny, treacherous spark of...hope?
He had wanted , even if it was just for a mont. Even if it was fueled by anger and resentnt and the ghost of a love he'd once felt for soone else.
It's twisted, I know. To crave the touch of a man who despises , who makes no secret of his loathing. But I can't help it.
I'm drawn to him like a moth to a fla, even knowing that he'll burn to ashes in the end.
Reviews
All reviews (0)