I remember his long, thick cock… Hard and throbbing between my legs as he pushed it into my clothes, rocking his hips into me while he growled out noises of burning lust into my mouth.
In my mind, I can see him standing before me, dripping wet; water and soap sliding over all those defined, hardened ridges. I imagine that he steps into me, holding my ass in his powerful grip, while the other hand cups my breast. I whimper, touching myself the same way, washing my breasts the way I imagine Noah would if he was in here.
His thumb flicks the barbell in my nipple and I moan quietly, pleasure shooting straight between my thighs. He does it again, squeezing and tugging, torturing me in the best possible way.
Then he uses his mouth… That hot, wet mouth, sucking my nipples… Kissing them, swirling his tongue around the peaks before suckling with force. I gasp, yanking his wet hair by the roots while he owns me with that perfect mouth.
In my head he drops to his knees, gazing up at me with voracity shimmering in his dark eyes, before kissing and nipping a path down my stomach then my hip bone, wasting no time using his mouth on my pussy, so sweet I’m already falling apart.
“Noah…” I whisper, eyes rolling back as he holds my ass hard and licks my slit slowly, back and forth, slipping his tongue inside my opening. I cry out as soft as possible. It feels like heaven.
“Baby, you are beautiful…” he groans, the vibrations rumbling on my clit.
Flattening his tongue, he licks me over and over again until my knees buckle. He tugs my clit with his teeth then greedily sucks, alternating between kissing and swirling his tongue so damn fucking good I’m about to explode.
“Come for me, Alex,” he demands and I’m aggressively panting, muscles stiffening all over my body. “I know you want to…”
“I want you so bad…” I hum, holding myself up on his shoulders as I succumb to the sensations and fall back against the shower wall.
I force myself quiet as I erupt into a staggering orgasm that leaves me breathless and tingling everywhere. My legs are like jelly as my insides finally stop pulsing and I open my eyes. I take a deep breath in, blinking myself back to reality.
Noah’s not here.
He’s downstairs, making me breakfast while I’m touching myself in his shower, thinking about him. Imagining him…
He’s my friend. The only one I have.
Then why do I seem so hard-pressed to ruin it?
I step inside my home and look around. Every time I come back here from being somewhere else, I expect to be walking into a war zone.
I’m not exactly sure why. It’s never happened before, so there’s no reason it would start now. But still it’s this fear I have, that eventually the calm, rational way my husband behaves when he’s not lost in the few minutes of chaos that causes him to attack me will expire; will run out.
After all, when you have the kinds of demons he has, there’s nowhere else to go but down. Sooner or later, he’ll completely unravel and become the monster that only I know, for good. And then he’ll be unstoppable.
My plan has always been to leave before he gets to that point. But I worry that I’m running out of time.
He’s been hitting my face more often lately. I don’t know if it necessarily means anything - God, I hope not. But it could very well mean he’s done being cautious.
I need to get the fuck out of this terrible, awful relationship.
I walk through the foyer and the sitting room, making my way to the bedroom. I need to get changed into fresh clothes and go up to the studio to start packing all my pieces and put the finishing touches on my catalog.
As soon as I set foot through the door to our bedroom, I gasp out loud.
Roger is sitting on the bed, with his back resting against the headboard, reading a book. He’s dressed casually, in jeans and a white t-shirt, which is odd. He rarely ever dresses like that. It’s always suits, or at the very least slacks and a polo or something preppy.
Jesus, this guy has never been my type. What the hell was I thinking?
His head pops up when he sees me and he closes the book fast, crawling to the edge of the bed.
“Hi, sweetie. God, I was worried about you,” he breathes, his tone eager and maybe a little desperate. I’ve never heard him sound like that. Not once in our seven years together.
My brow furrows as I stare at him, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to say. It’s then that I notice what’s on the nightstand beside him.
Flowers. A huge bouquet of red roses, colored so vibrant, they look like they’re dipped in fresh blood. They smell incredible, but roses have never really been my thing. Maybe if they were spray-painted black…
“Are you alright?” Roger asks, bringing my attention back to him.
He stands up and walks to me slowly, stopping when he’s towering over me and taking my chin in his fingers. His bright eyes study my face, the cut on my lip that’s still visibly dark, despite Noah’s attempts to clean it up with bacitracin. Then his eyes slide down to my throat and he squints. He looks confused; as if he’s seeing the marks for the first time and he doesn’t understand where they could have possibly come from.
Oh my God, he’s insane. He’s completely lost it. I need to get out of here…
“I’m fine, Roger,” I whisper, struggling to project my voice while keeping it as passive as possible. “I just needed some me time. You know it’s important.”
I cock my head slightly, giving him one of my looks I’ve perfected over the years. The I’m a silly woman and you’re in charge look. It works well when we’re pretending he didn’t almost strangle me to death last night.
“Alex, you left,” he breathes, eyes soft and shimmering with concern. I’m so baffled by how he’s looking at me, and the tone in his voice, I’m almost taken aback. Who is this man?
He must be taking on a new tactic. It’ll give him more jollies or something to get me thinking he actually cares about my well-being. He’s a freaking head-case, so I’m not really surprised by anything he does after the initial shock wears off.
“Roger, you left,” I lift my brows.
“Yes, but I came right back,” he murmurs, taking my hand in his. “You were gone all night…”
I gulp, fear clawing at the inside of my bruised throat as I tremble suddenly with terror. He’s going to accuse me of fucking someone. And he’s going to beat me… Hard. And he may kill me.
Fuck, I don’t want to die.
The first thing that pops into my panicked mind is Noah. He’d be crushed if I let Roger kill me. And I’d be crushed if I let Roger kill me, because I want to stay alive. I was to stay here on Earth… with Noah.
I used to care very little whether I lived or died. Sure, I was minutely afraid of no longer existing. The thought of blank nothingness… Lights out. That’s pretty scary. I mean, I try clinging to the idea of an afterlife, but really there’s no physical evidence to support that. And even if it’s true… How would I know that I’d be going to heaven? I’m not as evil as my husband, but I have a lot of issues, clearly. What if I go to hell? That’s also scary, though maybe not as scary as the lights out thing. Who knows…
But back to reality, it’s alarming that Noah is quickly becoming the center of my universe. He’s the first person I think of when I’m about to be attacked by my psycho husband. That being said, it feels good to have someone to care about. It’s always nice to have a reason to live, even though I’m not sure how Noah would feel about him being mine… That’s rather intense.