Chapter 23

Iwake up to an empty bed and a dark room. Reaching out, I feel the sheets beside me, noting the coolness of the soft material. Cat rarely wakes up before me, and she never leaves the bed without my knowledge. The stress of the last few days must have knocked my ass out.

I hate not being aware of her waking up. Although I'm reasonably sure that her memories from earlier are safely tucked away in her head, I can't be sure until I see her.

I tilt my head to listen for movement in the house, but hear nothing. The silence is deafening, and I don't fucking like it. There should be music playing or footsteps on the stairs. A shower running or the sound of pots and pans clanking. Cat doesn't like the quiet. She says it makes her feel alone. So there's always some form of sound. Maybe the TV set on low or the soft lyrics of one of her favorite songs.

Quickly tossing the covers off me, I get out of bed, moving straight for the pants and shirt I threw off earlier.

If the house is silent, that means Cat's not in it, and that nearly has my bones freezing in fear.

Whisper's threat to Cat hovers in the back of my mind.

I don't know when or how, but he has plans to come after her. I won't let that shit happen, but with her out of the house, it may be out of my control.

My palm twitches to lash it against her ass. It's not her fault—the chances of her remembering the threat are slim—but I still want to punish her for putting herself in danger, whether she realizes it or not.

I'm snatching my phone from the nightstand when I see a note sitting beside it.

Going to Sunnyside. I'll be back in a couple of hours.

Love you, Husband.

Cat

"Goddamn it," I growl and scowl down at the paper.

After shoving it into my pocket, I leave the room. Taking the stairs two at a time, I check my phone as I go. I have a couple of missed messages. The first is from Mathias. How in the fuck did I not hear my notification go off?

Mathias: Cat took off. Damon and a couple others are trailing her.

As soon as I punch the alarm code, I leave the house and run to my SUV. Slamming my door, my anger and fear mounting, I pull up the second message. My jaw clenches as I read it.

Scarlett: I need you.

Motherfucker.

I shoot off a reply to Mathias.

Me: Keep a couple men on her, but send a couple back to the house to watch things.

Mathias: Got it.

Using the app on my phone, I pull up the map that shows Cat's exact location. After a moment, it loads and shows her where she said she would be.

Next, I pull up the camera feed at Scarlett's house. Although the rooms are dark, the cameras are equipped with night vision. I switch from camera to camera until I find Scarlett wandering the halls of the house, making her way to the master bedroom.

The muscles in my jaw tense as I clip my phone into the holder so I can keep an eye on the screen. Backing out of my driveway and almost clipping a mailbox, I speed down the road.

For the moment, Cat is safe with Mathias's men watching over her. While I want to be with my wife and make sure she's safe, Scarlett needs me more right now.

* * *

After entering the dark house,I forgo my usual drink and head straight upstairs, where Scarlett is waiting for me.

I slip off my ring and slip it into my pants pocket. My shirt is ripped over my head and the button on my pants is unfastened when I make it to the room.

Using my foot, I kick the door open and it slams against the wall. I'm still angry with Cat for leaving the way she did. I'm angry with Scarlett for pulling me away from my wife. And I'm fucking pissed at myself for being so goddamn weak.

The loud bang of the door hitting the wall has the woman on the bed, wearing only a black thong, jerking up from her slouched position. Scarlett's eyes, wide with a hint of fear, watch me as I stalk across the room. I've never laid a hand on a woman out of anger. Scarlett is the only woman I've ever physically hurt, and she begs for it. Nevertheless, I'm fucking livid at this moment, needing to punish the woman in front of me. If not for her, I'd be with Cat right now. If not for her, I wouldn't have this twisted need to dole out the pain she craves. She allows me to show the darker side of my desires, but she pushes my limits. Since Scarlett entered my life, I've done things I would have never done before. She brings out the worst in me, and I keep coming back for more.

I don't stop until I'm at the end of the bed with my slacks sagging down my ass. I wrap my fingers around Scarlett's neck, my grip tighter than normal. In the dim light, her face turns red.

She doesn't have to tell me to make it hurt. I'll give her what she wants without her mouth begging for it.

I yank her head up and slam my lips against hers, the edge of my teeth sinking into the plump flesh of her bottom one. The taste of copper fills my mouth. My anger rises when she lets out a little moan at the bite of pain.

Using her neck, I yank her head back and scowl in her face. It kills me to see the desire in her eyes, knowing it's from the pain I've caused her.

Grabbing her hair, I shove her head down while pulling out my cock with my other hand.

"Open," I demand darkly, holding my cock in front of her face.

Her lips are barely parted before I force the head past them, not stopping until I reach the back of her throat.

"Jesus, fuck," I curse harshly, loving and hating the tight grip of her throat as she gags.

I pull back a couple of inches before slamming my hips forward and yanking her head toward me. I feel some of the strands of her hair snap, but I'm too far gone to care.

The woman has driven me to the brink of madness. I hate that I love her. But I also love that I hate her. She stands between me and my wife, and I'm helpless but to allow it. I've tried to leave her, but I'm always pulled back the moment I get one of her messages.

I slide the fingers of my other hand into her hair and use both to navigate how fast her head bobs. I fuck her mouth viciously, sawing in and out like it will be the last time I ever get my dick wet. I use her like a desperate man uses a whore. Leaving restraint behind, I slide in deep until her nose touches my groin and her chin rests against my balls, only to pull back out and repeat it.

My balls draw up, but I push my release away. No fucking way is Scarlett getting off so easily. She wants to be used and abused, and I'm in the fucking mood to give it to her.

Black streaks run down her cheeks as slobber drips down her chin and out of the corners of her mouth. As I push back into her mouth and her throat convulses again, she grabs my thigh and tries to push herself away. I slap her hand.

"Keep your hands to yourself," I growl, shoving her back down my cock. "Choke on my fucking cock like a good girl."

I grit my teeth, letting out a harsh breath as her throat tightens around the head. My glutes tense as I rock my hips back and forth, using her hair to force her to meet my thrusts. Her moans are cut off each time I hit the back of her throat.

"Goddamn that feels so good," I groan. "Your throat is so fucking tight. It's the best one I've ever had the pleasure of fucking."

Scarlett doesn't respond to my praise. She can't. She barely has time to take a breath before I steal it from her again.

I fuck her mouth over and over again until I'm so close to the edge that if I don't stop, I'll fill it with cum. I don't want to release in her mouth. My cum belongs in a different hole. Not the one I want to fill, but the one she demands I fill.

I yank her off my cock by her hair. Before she can fall backward, I grab her waist and pull her off the bed to stand in front of me. My hand goes back around her throat, and I use my thumb to tip her head back.

"You drive me fucking insane, you know that?" I grit between clenched teeth. "Fucking insane, Scarlett."

Her eyes, swirling with sorrow, stare up at me. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

I bark out a humorless laugh. "You're not fucking sorry. If you were, you wouldn't do this to me. You would let me go. You would br—"

My words are cut off by the tear that slides down her cheek. I feel that tear like it blazes its own fiery path down my cheek, and will leave a scar behind.

I bite the inside of my cheek and slam my eyes closed. I can't look at her. It hurts too much. It makes me wish that things were different. It makes me wish I could be different. That I could be exactly what she needs with nothing standing in our way.

No history.

No darkness.

No pain.

With my gut twisted into knots, I spin Scarlett around. Putting my hand between her shoulder blades, I push her top half down so she bends over. Her ass, round and so fucking plump and delicious, sticks out, inviting me to take it.

I separate the globes, and pinpoint on the puckered hole. My cock twitches, knowing how tight it's going to feel around my shaft.

I never take Scarlett's ass without proper preparation, which includes coating my cock with her cunt juices first.

But right now, I'm strung too tight to insist I go easy. It makes me an asshole, but I want her to feel the pain. I want to punish her for what she's doing to me. Besides, she craves it anyway, so I won't be forcing it on her. I would never take from her what she isn't willing to give.

Keeping her cheeks spread, I drop spit on her little hole and smear it around with my thumb, slipping just the tip inside. After letting one of her cheeks go, I lick my palm, and slide it up and down my hard cock a few times. I aim the tip at her asshole. My jaw clenches when I press inside, her tight muscles gripping me.

Scarlett whimpers, and I glance at her face, satisfied to see she's turned her head to one side. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and her eyes are filled with pain. I don't stop. I keep pressing forward, knowing from the sounds leaving her throat that she's getting pleasure from the pain cutting through her.

Once I'm a couple of inches from bottoming out inside her, I lean over her back. Grabbing a handful of her hair, I pull her head back roughly, causing her back to bow at an awkward angle, and put my lips at her ear.

"Does this feel good?" I whisper, anger making my voice come out a growl.

"Yes," she moans.

Her answer pisses me off further. My fingers tighten through the strands, and I use her hair to pull her back at the same time I slam the rest of the way inside.

"Fuck you, Scarlett," I snarl as I pull out and thrust forward. "Fuck you for making me like this. Fuck you for keeping me away from her."

Letting her hair go, I rest a fist beside her head and lay the other arm across her back, curling my fingers around her shoulder. I use my grip on her as leverage to pound her ass the way she likes.

I like it too. I like the way she sucks me inside of her. I like how tightly her muscles grip me, as if she never wants to let go. I like the pillowy softness of her insides. I like the way she whimpers and moans my name, her tone filled with both pain and pleasure.

"Motherfucking hell," I mutter. "Why in the fuck can't I ever get enough of you?"

I'm not really asking Scarlett, so I don't expect her to answer, but she does so anyway.

"Because I'm yours." My eyes fly to hers at her breathy reply. "You need me just as much as I need you. Because you're mine."

I grind my molars just as hard as I grind my hips into her ass, getting just a little bit deeper inside. I hate her answer because it's true. I can't live without Scarlett in my life.

I hold her eyes as I growl, "I hate you."

Her gaze softens and she licks her bottom lip. "You love me."

I bare my teeth and hiss, "I love you."

Sadness creeps across her face. "You hate me."

I drop my head and smash my lips against hers, taking her mouth in a brutal kiss. I pour every bit of love, hate, passion, and loathing I have for her into it, hoping she feels my turmoil.

I pull away and stand behind her, keeping one hand on the small of her back as I fuck her relentlessly. I look down, seeing the scars dotting her back, hating myself for putting them there. Hating her for making me put them there.

"Play with your clit. I want to feel you squeezing my cock as you come," I grunt, slowing my thrusts before I blow my load.

Her hair slides over her shoulder when she shakes her head. "No. I need more."

Pushing all the way inside, I stop with my pelvis pressing against her ass. "Get your fucking hand down on your cunt, Scarlett," I growl. "Now, before I leave you laying here and go home." I grind my hips, hitting a spot that has her back arching. "You want that? You want me to walk away and take the pain with me?"

"No, please," she whimpers. Her fingers curl in the sheets, her knuckles turning white.

"Then do what I fucking said."

Shifting her weight, she slides her arm underneath her body. Her fingers graze the root of my shaft when she gathers the juice from her leaking pussy and brings them back to her clit.

I slide out slowly and thrust forward hard. My balls tighten, my impending release right on the edge, but I wait. I wait until she lets out a hoarse cry and her asshole spasms and tightens around me.

My movements become hurried and uncoordinated. Pulling out, I slam back inside. Over and over until I can't hold back any longer. My vision blurs and my jaw hurts from clenching my teeth.

Cum spurts from me and fills the tunnel of her ass.

I slide from her, bending down to pull my slacks up. I tuck myself inside and pull the zipper up, but leave the button unfastened.

Scarlett stays on her knees, her head now turned away from me, shielding her eyes.

I stand there and look at her, waiting for some type of reaction. She always leaves the room first when we're done. Immediately after I leave her body, she stands up and walks out the door without looking back.

This time though, she stays in her kneeled position, with her knees tucked against her stomach.

I loathe the way she looks right now. Like she's curled into herself and processing something terrible that just happened to her.

I wish I had the right to go to her. To gather her in my arms and push her head into my neck. To say I'm sorry for the things I do to her. To comfort her the way a man comforts the woman he loves.

Instead, I do as she wishes and leave. This time, I'm the one walking out first, and it feels wrong. My heart demands I go back inside and force my comfort on her. But my legs carry me downstairs, picking up my discarded shirt in the hallway, not bothering to put it on before I walk out the front door.