“Spare me the sob stories and fucking excuses. You did it because you want me to yourself. You’re the one who’s fucking selfish.”
I heard him breathe out hard, like a bull ready to destroy a red sheet. After that, my body stiffened slightly as he rammed into me.
“I’m selfish? My life revolves around how my actions affect you. My career is determined by my family, and I still want to give it up for you, Carmen.”
As he spoke, he punctuated each word with a stroke. His hand went to my hair again as he pulled me closer to his face before speaking again. “I built you this house, and you still think I’m selfish?”
My voice broke as I answered. “This is a prison, and you know it. I’m not staying here.”
“Yes, you are,” he commanded through gritted teeth.
“No, I’m not,” I argued. Instead of replying, he tightened his grip in my hair and shoved my head into the pillow. I turned my face slightly so that I could breathe as he continued to ram himself into me.
I took it all.
His frustration.
His anger.
His annoyance at my refusal to stay and his fear of losing me. He pumped it all into my body with force that rattled the headboard. Our grunts and groans felt lost in the air. My fingers gripped the sheets so tightly that my polish chipped. The hands that usually comfort me in this ‘situation’ were engrossed in my hair, keeping my head low as I maintained my arch for him.
“You act like a spoiled brat, Carmen.”
“Fuck you, Theodore.” I spat. He didn’t respond.
Instead, he went harder. His breath was warm against the back of my neck, but I could feel the tension still locked in his frame. Finally his hand slid over mine and laced our fingers together on the sheets.
We were both close.
A part of me wanted to withhold my own release just to spite him.
But it was no use.
We finished together with a thunderous groan tearing through both of us.
When it was over, he pulled away from me without a word.
No kiss. No look.
Just silence.
“You know this doesn’t fix anything,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said, his voice a raw scrape against my skin. “But it kept you here. For tonight.”
He climbed off the bed, muscles tight and jaw clenched, and began to gather his clothes. Methodical. Distant. Like this was just another task to get through. I lay there frozen, my chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths, eyes burning holes into the back of his head.
He wouldn’t look at me.
Coward.
When he was fully dressed, he paused at the doorway, one hand on the frame.
“The driver will take you back to the hotel in the morning,” he said flatly.
My throat tightened, but I swallowed it down.
“Whatever, Theo,” I muttered, barely above a whisper. “Just go.”
