Page 65 of Scream
"Isn't it?"
She shoves me off, and I step aside, letting her believe she has the strength to do so. It's cute. She rakes one hand through her hair, and I love the way it falls forward as she holds most of it back behind her head. Her other hand fists and sits on her hip. "I have so much shit in my head all the time, and none of it is about you. That'sfucking rude. I know it. I feel it. Just saying it out loud makes me sound god awful and maybe I am. But it's so fucked up in here." She points to her head. "It isso fucked upand you deserve someone that can... you deserve better.More. More than what I could ever give you. More than someone else's wife. You don’t deserve to be a dirty secret."
"Sabrina-"
Her eyes snap shut, and the distress is evident on her face. I can't change her mind, and I feel like I’m going to die trying. "I can't. There is so much more to it. Please, try to understand me."
"Let me take that burden, baby. Give me what fucked you up, so I can take it for myself. You think one more scar will hurt me?"
She laughs, but it's bitter and hollow. "Your scars are beautiful and rightly earned. Mine is nothing more than functioning madness. My scars are beneath the surface. Behind my eyes and under my skin like invisible tattoos. I didn't even earn them. They were given to me by-" she shuts her lips and rolls them inward.
I quirk a brow. "By...?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. Just please stop. Or I'll let Mama know I no longer need your services. That I've relented on Maksim's account and have chosen to have his security detail trail behind me."
I huff out a laugh. "You threatening me, sugar?"
She blinks and then looks down, avoiding my gaze.
"I'm telling you to give me your scars, to share your madness, and youthreaten me?"I take a step towards her, and she gives me the satisfaction of not stepping back, so I continue to stalk like she's a wounded animal. But when my fingers are tangled in her hair, and my other arm goes around her waist, clutching her so tight against me, my dick throbs and comes to life. She lets out a littlegaspand fuck do I love that sound. My lips are so close to hers, and I know she feels how hard I am just being in her presence, against her soft stomach, and that shit drives me wild, too.
"Threaten me again, kitten, I fuckin’dareyou. Tell me to my face you don't want me around. Say you can't stand the sight of me. Tell me you fucking hate me, and I'll let you go. I'll leave. You don't even gotta tell your mama a goddamn thing. I'll disappear. But if you think for even one fucking second, I won't just be hiding in the shadows watching, you're dead wrong. You aren't getting rid of me. So do it. Threaten me again."
She lets out a sob but there ain't tears in her eyes. She shivers in my arms, but she's not disgusted, she'srespondingto me. My body. My scent. Me."I can't."
"That's what I fucking thought," I let her go. "Get your shit and get ready so we can go see Raven and her trio. Threaten me one moretime, Sabrina, and I'll put you over my knee and spank you raw. Them I’ll tie you up and fuck you till all you can do is gasp my motherfuckin’ name again." I promise.
She goes quickly, and once I'm in my room, I pull my dick out and tug, images of the way her eyes dilated when I promised to spank her raw flit around in my mind. I spill so hard and fast; I can't help the grunt that flies outof mymouth.
Fucking hell.
Chapter Sixteen
Maksim.
As soon as we land in New York, it’s like she doesn’t exist. Or we’re both so busy we hardly see each other. She seems to be sleeping in the penthouse just fine now that Parker’s nearby. I haven’t heard her moan or cry out for me, and my body, my soulweepsfor her.For another taste of her skin, her sighs, her arousal. I’m going fucking crazy, salivating like a fucking dog every time I remember the way her hips would buck against my face, riding my tongue, chasing away her demons.
I huff out a groan.
I came home the other day to find a pink throw pillow and blanket on the couch, and I grinned. Grinned at the thought of her making thisherspace. The more of her here, of her scent, her softness, the more I could disillusion myself into thinking she could be happy here.
Until she texts me only fifteen days after coming back from Italy that she won’t be coming home for the evening.
Me: What the fuck do you mean?
Wife: I’m having dinner with Raven and her guys, I’m already headed there, then I’m staying the weekend at my house.
Me: What are you doing at your house that’s so important?
Wife: Everything I can’t do at yours.
Me: Such as?
Wife: Bake. Sit on a comfortable couch and read to decompress.
Me: You can read at the penthouse.
I can feel her rolling her eyes through the phone as the bubbles pop up.
