“Did you miss me?” He smirked, shrugging off his shirt, revealing his defined torso—abs for days beneath a thin smattering of dark hair on his chest.
I was the envy of so many women. Every day I reminded myself of that.
“Nice scarf.” He knelt in front of the chair.
I returned a nervous smile, hoping the man before me was the man I loved. Graham untied the scarf, sliding it from my neck as slowly as he’d slid off his tie just seconds earlier. The scarf floated to the floor. Gentle fingers swept my hair off my shoulders, exposing my neck.
With the same feather’s touch, he traced the bruises. “It’s nothing …” His lips replaced his fingers, kissing my neck. “You’re fine. Right?”
I wanted to believe him. Could denial become truth if we just believed hard enough?
“I’m fine,” I murmured, closing my eyes.
“Want me to show you how much I missed you?” he whispered next to my ear.
Was he asking me for permission? Governor Graham demanded me. Pre-marriage, pre-Governor Graham asked … begged me to surrender to him. I no longer cared about the bruises. I wanted that Graham. Maybe it was naive of me to think the bruises were an accident, an isolated incident, but I needed to cling to even the tiniest shred of hope.
“Yes.” I threaded my fingers through his dark hair, ridding it of its orderly confines. I wanted messy, desperate Graham.
He removed my jacket and blouse. A low growl rattled his chest when he saw my light pink lace bra. His favorite.
“Take it off,” he ordered.
I swallowed my fear, convinced that I held a bit of control in that moment. I needed to know I still had some control. “You take it off.”
Graham arched a single eyebrow, but I couldn’t tell if it was playful or scornful. That had become a hard read for me. A hard line of sorts. When he didn’t say anything, that icy feeling along my spine overtook the warmth in my chest.
“I …” I cleared the nerves from my voice with a tiny cough. “I had lunch with Evelyn.” There was no good reason for me to say that to Graham, except he seemed to relax whenever we talked about Evelyn.
His arched eyebrow disappeared as I’d hoped it would. “How is Evelyn?” He reached behind me and yanked the straps to my bra. I knew the hooks had to be broken or bent.
I swallowed hard. “Good,” I whispered, trying to keep from showing my concern.
“I like good.” He didn’t touch my breasts. He just … inspected them with a tiny frown before lifting his dark eyes to meet mine. “On your knees, facing the back of the chair.”
I rubbed my lips together, the lower one quivered a bit, so I bit it, shrinking under his scrutinizing gaze. Shifting my body, I knelt on the chair, pressing my breasts against the soft leather as my hands gripped the back of the chair.
Graham worked my tight skirt up my hips. “What was Evelyn wearing today?”
I narrowed my eyes, not daring a glance back at him. “W-why are you asking me that?”
He fisted the back of my thong and ripped it into two pieces. I flinched; it wasn’t the first time he’d destroyed my panties. It was just the first time he did it while asking me about Evelyn.
“She’s always wearing shitty clothes that barely match. I just wondered how terrible she looked compared to my beautiful wife today.”
“Ung!” I bit the back of the chair as he shoved three fingers, which felt like his whole damn hand, into my vagina.
“Jeans?”
“Uh-huh …” I pinched my eyes shut.
“Figures.” He chuckled, working his fingers deep inside of me. “Worn T-shirt?”
I returned a barely detectable nod, desperate for him to touch me in a way that made me wet, in a way that softened the slide of his fingers inside of me. Talking about Evelyn’s clothes didn’t do it for me.
“Was the tee tight? Did it show off her little tits and those diamond nipples of hers?”
“Graham … please …”
Please stop talking about Evelyn. Please touch me like you love me. Please …
“You, baby…” he withdrew his fingers “…you sucking Evelyn’s puckered little nipples is still my favorite memory. It gets me so … fucking … hard …” He spread my cheeks and planted his mouth between my legs, bringing me to a quick orgasm as tears spilled down my face. I knew he wasn’t thinking of me as his tongue teased me, as he used the product of my pleasure to lube my backside, as he unzipped his pants, as he fucked me where there was zero chance of me getting pregnant.
I closed my eyes, disappearing to a different mind space, and I wondered who would submit to him in that way after I took my last breath.