I turn my phone on and receive heaps of messages from May. One from my mother and a few from Alec. He’s short in his messages, asking me how I am and if we can talk.
I reply to everyone but him. I can’t see him like this. He will know something’s wrong and then, well, I don’t want to think about what would happen.
Looking up to my new husband, as he works on his phone, dressed in his designer suit which is perfectly pressed, I wonder how I can get sober. How I can leave him without destroying everything I am.
And who I love.
My husband is a man you never want to meet.
A man like him will destroy you.
And the sick part?
You’re going to like every single minute of it.
26
He grips my hand during the car ride back to his house. Our house, I guess. He doesn’t let me go, not even for a minute. When we arrive, he gets out and walks around to me, the driver staying in the car. I flinch when he puts his arms around me, and he notices straight away and pulls back.
“I would never hurt you.”
“That’s honestly laughable.”
Gunner looks at me confused. “Those things! They’re acts of intimacy. You like them, Everly. I like them. Together we will be fantastic.”
“We were fantastic.”
“Now you know that’s a lie.”
“Do I?” I argue back.
“Let me carry you in like a bride.”
When I don’t answer, he lifts me over his shoulder and carries me through our front door to the back where our bedroom is located. It’s changed since we were here last, and all my things have been carefully placed around the room. The closet is open and at least eighty percent of the stuff hanging in there is mine. My shoes even have places.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes.” There’s no point in lying. I do.
“We can be extremely happy, Everly.”
When he puts me down, I turn in his arms. “Only if I let you torture me while you fuck me?”
“Do you want it soft? Is that what you want?” He starts tearing off his perfect suit. “Tender? Will that make you feel better? If I don’t worship your body, but cherish it instead?”
“You didn’t worship me, you bruised me. Every part of me.”
“Oh, no, Everly. I bit. Tasted and kissed every part of you. I worshipped you.” When he kicks off his shoes, he looks at my clothes. “Strip. You can know the difference now. Feel the difference and tell me which you prefer.”
I don’t take my dress off. I changed on the flight over, the cardigan and jeans were too warm for home. I don’t want to play any more games with him. I want to curl up and be me, just for a while. I need to sort my head out without him so close.
Breathing him in all the time isn’t good for me.
“And what if I like it my way?”
His teeth clench together. “If you really don’t like it, we can stop.”
“You don’t mean that,” I say.
He’s now fully undressed and he reaches for me, taking my dress off. “I do. If it really upsets you that much, I will.” He pauses briefly at my panties before he pulls them down my legs. “But, I will find someone else to fulfill me where you can’t.”
Shit! That’s a slap in the face, and a hard one too.
“You’ll sleep with someone else?” I ask him in disbelief.
“No. I will fuck someone else.”
“Same thing.”
He gently guides me back on the bed. “No. It’s not. I will never sleep with anyone but you. Never have and never intend to. I will fuck someone else who isn’t you, though, if you don’t like it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Tell me, Everly. Why isn’t it?”
“Well, then I will fuck someone else, too.”
His eyes go wide, and his hand slides to my throat. “You will never. Ever.”
“But you can?”
He drops his hands and glances at me. “I have needs, and I won’t hurt you.” Before I can say another word, he kisses me softly and runs his hands over my sore body. When he gets to my sex, he cups it gently and starts to stroke me. “You like this?”
I don’t answer him. What’s the point in encouraging him? Instead, I let him take control of me. He does ever so gently. He goes down on me, kissing me softly and licking me tenderly, before he climbs back up my body and gently slides into me. I’m still a bit sore, but with each movement he gives me, it doesn’t hurt.
“What’s wrong with this?” I ask stroking his face, looking into his eyes. Staring into eyes that hold a storm is like walking into a tornado and asking it to take you away. It’s a silly thing to do, but if you love the storm you have to chase it.