Matthew
Sarah gasps into my mouth, her fingers curling against my slick skin as I press my body against hers. The water beats down on us, hot and relentless, but it's nothing compared to the heat of this moment.
For a moment, I forget everything—the tension, the anger, the uncertainty.
I had lost control again.
My hands slide down her body, gripping her hips as I deepen the kiss. I can feel her responding, her mouth opening under mine, her tongue brushing against my lips. It's intoxicating, the way she melts into me.
Despite how much I hate her, I can't seem to think straight when I touch her like this. I remember how it felt when I had her wrapped around my cock the other night, and the memory was fresh enough to drive me into this…madness.
Sarah's chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her eyes wide and dark with desire. "Matthew…" she whispers, her voice trembling.
"Don't talk," I growl. I place both of my hands under her thighs and lift her up effortlessly. She is a slight little thing, light as a feather, as she wraps her legs around my waist.
So eager for me to have her even though I treat her like shit, I think distastefully.
I pin her against the shower wall, my hips grinding into hers as the water cascades over us. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, nails digging into my skin as she arches into me. I can feel her desperation, her need, and it fuels the dark hunger inside me.
"Needy little thing, aren't you?" I rasp against her ear, my teeth grazing her lobe.
She whimpers, her eyes fluttering closed as I rock against her. "Please, Matthew…" Her voice is barely a whisper, but it's laced with a raw yearning that makes my cock throb.
"This little cunt belongs to me now since you insisted on marrying me. Now, I get to use it whenever I want," I growl. I don't want her to make the mistake of thinking I see her as anything other than an object.
A low moan escapes her lips as I thrust into her, filling her completely. The sensation is overwhelming. I don't hold back and slam into her with punishing force.
"Fuck," I groan, losing myself in the tight heat of her body. She feels too good, too perfect around me, and it only fuels the rage simmering beneath my skin.
How dare she make me want her like this? How dare she worm her way under my defenses, making me crave her touch, her taste, her everything?
I thrust into her relentlessly, the water pouring over us, the steam thick and heavy. I grip her hips hard enough to bruise, slamming her down onto my cock with each thrust.
She whimpers, her face twisted. I must be hurting her.
Good.
The darkness inside me has taken over, the need to possess her, to mark her, consuming every rational thought.
One of my hands slides up her body, gripping her throat. I can feel her pulse fluttering wildly beneath my fingers, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I tilt her head back, forcing her to meet my gaze.
"Look at me," I command, my voice rough and raw with lust.
Her green eyes lock onto mine, pupils blown wide with desire. Her lips part, a silent plea, and I capture them in a bruising kiss. I swallow her moans, my tongue delving into her mouth as I claim her completely.
I can feel her body tensing, her inner walls fluttering around my cock. She's close, I can feel it.
I break the kiss and lean back, my hand still gripping her throat. "You don't get to come tonight," I snarl, my hips never ceasing their relentless rhythm.
Sarah's eyes widen. "Please, Matthew, I need…" Her words dissolve into a keening moan as I change the angle, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her see stars.
"What you need is to learn your place," I growl, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "You're mine now, to do with as I please."
Her body tenses.
"You want to come so bad, don't you, little slut?" I hiss.
She winces. "Don't call me that," she snaps, surprising me with the sudden strength in her voice.
I pause my thrusts for a moment, caught off guard by her defiance. My grip on her throat tightens a fraction. "What did you just say to me?" My voice is low, dangerous.
Sarah swallows hard but holds my gaze. "I said, don't call me that. I'm not a slut." Her words are shaky but firm.
A harsh laugh escapes me. "You're not? Then what do you call a woman who tricks a man into marrying her? Who spreads her legs for him at the drop of a hat?" I punctuate my words by slamming into her again, making her cry out.
Tears spring to her eyes, but she blinks them back. "If I am a slut, you are a coward. If you really wanted out of this marriage, you would've tried harder. Deep down, you wanted to be with me too, Matthew."
Lies.
I release her jaw and grab her hips with both hands, pistoning into her at a faster pace. "You think you are so smart, don't you, my little wife?"
Despite the tears threatening to fall, I notice there's a defiant glint in her eyes that both infuriates and arouses me.
"I think," she gasps out between thrusts, "that you're afraid. Afraid to admit that you feel something for me beyond just hatred and resentment."
I snarl, my fingers digging harshly into the soft flesh of her hips. "You know nothing about what I feel."
"It's okay to want me, Matthew," she whispers, reaching up to trail her fingers along my jaw.
"Shut up," I grit out, jerking my head away from her touch. "Just shut up."
I lose myself again.
"Matthew, please…" she pleads, soft and needy.
My control slips, and I come inside her.
I pull out of her abruptly, setting her down on shaky legs. The sudden loss of contact makes her whimper, but I ignore it, stepping back under the spray to rinse off.
"Get out. I am done with you," I say dismissively.
She doesn't move. "Matthew, we can't keep doing this. We need to talk about things. I am your wife and…"
You're nothing but a pathetic, clingy little whore," I interrupt.
The words are cruel, designed to cut deep, to shatter whatever illusions she still holds. And they hit their mark.
Sarah reels back as if I've physically struck her, a choked sob escaping her throat. For a moment, she just stares at me. Then, quick as a flash, she slaps me.
I touch my stinging face and look at her.
Sarah's chest heaves, her eyes blazing with hurt and fury. Her voice trembles with anger as she whispers, "You bastard. You miserable, heartless bastard." With those words, she storms out of the bathroom.
I stand there for a moment with my hand on my cheek. I definitely deserved that one, no question asked. I was wondering how far I could push her before she cracked.
My mind drifts back to the time when I actually cared for her and when I thought she was just this sweet, naive, misunderstood girl.
Boy, was I wrong?