But when we walked through that door, I knew better. She was already halfway through a bottle, eyes glassy, voice thick with slurred edges. She wasn’t waiting for me. She was chasing oblivion.
Again.
I know she’s wrecked. I know the man she gave her life to was a lie wearing skin. But Jesus—did she forget I was part of that life too? That I’m still crawling out of the wreckage he left behind? That I needed her to be something other than broken glass and vodka fumes?
I needed my mom. But all I got was a crumbling shadow of her, unraveling right before my eyes.
It nearly killed me to tell her. To say the words out loud. To admit that my stepfather raped me. Violated me. Over and over. That he stole pieces of me I’ll never get back. And now, after ripping open that wound, I have to sit here and watch her drown in her pain like mine doesn’t exist.
Nick made dinner. He tried to bring warmth into the cold. Set the table like it mattered. Poured every ounce of care into every bite. But by the time it was ready, she was gone—spinning somewhere inside her bottle. She picked at her plate, mumbled something incoherent, then passed out on the couch with Loco curled against her like he could protect what little was left of her.
So much for Christmas.
As I passed Alexa behind the bar. Her eyes met mine for a second too long. She gave me a nod—polite, distant. A tight-lipped smile that said, we’ll never be friends. And that was fine. I didn’t need friends.I just neededhim.
I knocked at the door before letting myself in.
“Is everything okay?” he says, looking up from his desk. “Do I need to come out there?”
I stepped inside, walking closer to his desk, my eyes luring him in.
“Everything is fine.”
He tipped his head to the side in confusion. The soft hum of the restaurant outside barely reached me as I leaned against Nick’s desk, my fingers gripping the edge. The weight of the day pressed on me—my mother’s drunken slurs still echoing in my mind, the exhaustion of pretending, of holding it all together. But right now, I didn’t want to think. I wanted to feel.
Nick stood before me, his tall frame radiating heat, his piercing green eyes searching mine. Our marriage had been a game, a contract, an arrangement for months. But over these past days, something has shifted. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, and I needed him—desperately.
“Make me forget,” I whispered, my voice raw with need.
Nick didn’t hesitate. He walked over to me and stepped between my legs, his hands gripping my thighs as he pulled me flush against him. His mouth crashed against mine, all heat and hunger, his tongue sweeping in to claim me. I moaned into his kiss, arching into him as his hands roamed my body, slipping beneath my blouse to trace fire along my skin.
“Want me to fuck you nice like this means something or fuck you rough, like you still hate me?” he murmured against my lips before nipping at my bottom lip, making me gasp.
“Fuck me like I’m your wife.” I challenged, my fingers already tugging at the buttons of his shirt, eager to feel his skin against mine.
Nick groaned, his control snapping. He yanked my blouse over my head, baring me to his hungry gaze. His hands cupped my breasts, thumbs teasing my hardened nipples through the lace of my bra. I shuddered, my head falling back as pleasure coiled low in my belly. His mouth followed, hot and insistent, trailing down my neck, over my collarbone, until he was teasing the edge of my bra with his teeth. I whimpered, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Nick, please…”
He grinned against my skin before pulling the lace down and capturing one tight bud between his lips. “I love it when you beg, princess.” He sucked, slow and deep, while his other hand slid between my legs, pressing against the heat of my panties.“Fuck, your pussy is so wet already,” he groaned, rubbing teasing circles over the soaked fabric.
I writhed, my hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more. “I need you inside me, Nick.”
“Such a pretty fuck you are. My wife. That greedy pussy wants to ride my cock.” Nick growled low in his throat, yanking my panties down and flipping me onto the desk in one swift motion. Papers scattered to the floor, but neither of us cared. He unzipped his pants, freeing his thick, hard cock, and positioned himself between me spread thighs.
He met my gaze, something dark and possessive flashing in his eyes. “Is this what you need, princess?”
“Yes,” I breathed, my body arching toward him. “I need my husband to fuck me now.”
He didn’t make me wait. With one hard thrust, he filled me, stretching me, making me gasp as pleasure and pain mixed into something utterly intoxicating.
“Christ, you feel perfect,” he groaned, gripping my hips as he set a ruthless pace, driving into me over and over, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Both of us getting lost in this moment not even caring if someone walked in on us.
My nails raked down his back as he fucked me, deep and unrelenting, his body grinding against my clit with every thrust. The pressure built fast, and the unbearable, delicious heat coiled tighter and tighter.
Nick reached between them, his thumb finding my swollen clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, my wife,” he demanded, his voice rough, desperate. My body shattered, pleasure ripping through me like a storm. I cried out his name, my inner walls squeezing him tight as waves of ecstasy crashed over me. Nick followed with a guttural groan, burying himself deepinside me as he spilled into me, his body shaking with the force of his release.
For a long moment, the only sound in the office was our ragged breathing. Nick leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to my shoulder, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my hip. Melanie blinked up at him, my heart still racing. “I think… we’re awful at faking it.” Nick chuckled, brushing her damp hair back. “Yeah, I think we are.” And for the first time in months, I didn’t feel like I was pretending anymore.
