“I let you talk because I like hearing you unravel,” he says. “But don’t mistake that for permission to run your mouth like you know what punishment you’ll receive for it, you little brat.”
He leans in, breath hot at my ear. The Hayden I thought I was learning about earlier is gone, and my controlling husband is back in his place.
“You want to test how far that mouth of yours can go before I put it to better use?”
Then he pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. I nod slowly, wanting to please him.
“You can push me away all you want,” I whisper. “I’ll just crawl back to you.”
That’s when it happens, the crack in his shell.
Barely there, but I see it. The cold, impenetrable stare falters, just for a breath. His jaw tenses, but something raw and real shines through. Something he doesn’t know how to live with, and definitely doesn’t wantmeto see.
Then he grabs my chin, fingers firm, tilting my face up to his.
“Open your mouth, tongue out.”
I obey immediately.
“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” he mutters.
And before I can answer, he spits in my mouth. A feral reminder of what I am to him, what he owns.
I swallow without thinking, eyes locked on him.
He watches me do it.
Then he leans in again, voice low and razor-sharp.
“That’s what crawling back to me looks like.”
He backs up and comes to the top of the bed, putting his knees on either side of my upper body.
“You’ve been mouthy, darling, but it’s because you’re needy,” he says, “I’ll fix that.”
I whimper, not ashamed of the need in my eyes as I watch him undress, button by button, taking himself torturously slow out of his pressed shirt. “I just want to be close to you,” I try, and fail to voice what Itrulymean. I’m afraid to specify which kind of closeness it is that I truly desire because I’m too far gone to know or care about the difference anymore.
He throws his shirt to the ground and undoes his buckle, pulling his belt out purposefully slow, like a threatanda promise.
Lifting me out of his shirt, he lays the belt down where my head just was, and then settles me back down atop it.
Still towering over me from his knees on either side of my chest, he looks down at me with curiosity.
“Do you think I should let you come, my darling whore?” he asks, almost mocking me.
“Please,” is all I can say, dumbfounded by him for the millionth time in our short life together.
“Not the right answer, but close, darling. So I’ll ask you again,” he draws his fingertips along my jaw, bringing them to my mouth and rubbing them across my lips, “ask me how you can please me, and maybe I’ll let you come.”
I suck my bottom lip in between my teeth, “I’ll do anything for you."
“Open wide.”
Hayden Herron
I know exactly what she wants to hear from me, and I refuse to give it to her.
Not yet.
