Sarah
Mark's hands are getting bolder now, slipping under my bikini top and cupping my breasts.
He starts to walk me backward towards the bed, his lips never leaving mine. My knees hit the mattress and I fall back, pulling him with me. He settles over me, his weight pressing me into the soft duvet.
He tugs my bikini top off, tossing it aside, then dips his head to take one of my nipples into his mouth.
I writhe uncomfortably under his weight, feeling violated and disgusted. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, not just because of the discomfort but also because my own husband couldn't care less about this man's actions towards me.
"Mark, wait…" I whisper, my voice trembling as I weakly protest.
But he doesn't seem to hear me, lost in his own lust.
His fingers hook into my bikini bottoms, yanking them down my legs. I gasp as the cool air hit my most intimate parts, now fully exposed to him. Mark settles between my thighs, the hard length of him pressing insistently against me.
"You're so beautiful, Sarah," he groans, nipping at my neck.
I turn to my side and my gaze lands on Matthew and Vanessa. Matthew is still looking at me as Vanessa bobs her head in his lap. He doesn't even look like he is paying any attention to Vanessa right now.
Mark's fingers probe at my entrance, and I stiffen. "Mark, maybe we should just stop…"
"Shh, just relax," Mark murmurs against my skin. "You're going to love this."
But I know I won't because I don't want this, any of it. Not Mark's touch, not Vanessa's seduction of my husband, none of it.
The tears begin to fall in earnest now, streaming down my cheeks. "Please stop," I whisper. "I don't want to do this anymore."
If Mark heard me, he gave no indication. I feel him shift, feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. Panic seizes me, and I start to sob harder.
Suddenly, a loud, angry voice cuts through the room. "Alright, that's enough!"
I turn my head to see Matthew, his face tight with rage, shoving Vanessa off him. She falls back, sprawled on the floor, her mouth open in shock. But Matthew doesn't even spare her a glance.
He's already moving, stalking toward the bed with a predatory intensity that makes my heart race. Mark looks up, startled.
"What's the matter?" Mark asks.
"I think it's clear Sarah doesn't want your dick, Mark. So get the fuck off of her," Matthew growls.
Mark pushes himself off of me, but I don't move. It's as if I am frozen in place.
"Get up, Sarah," Matthew orders.
I slowly sit up, my entire body shaking.
Matthew grabs my arm roughly, yanking me off the bed. I stumble, my legs weak and unsteady, but he doesn't seem to care. He's already pulling me towards the door, his grip on my arm bordering on painful.
"What the hell, Matthew?" Mark shouts, his face red with anger and frustration. "We were just getting started!"
Matthew whirls around, his eyes blazing. "Started? She told you to stop, you fucking asshole. Or were you too busy trying to shove your dick into her to hear that?"
Vanessa scrambles to her feet, hastily pulling her shirt closed. "Matthew, calm down. We were all just having a bit of fun."
"Fun?" Matthew snarls. "Does she look like she's having fun to you?"
I can't see my own face, but I can imagine what I must look like - tear-stained cheeks, red-rimmed eyes, my entire body trembling. The very picture of distress.
"She agreed to this," Mark argues, but there's a hint of uncertainty in his voice now.
"And then she changed her mind," Matthew snaps. "Which you would have known if you had bothered to listen to her."
He doesn't wait for a response. He's already dragging me out of the room, slamming the door behind us with a force that makes me jump.
We're halfway down the hallway before I find my voice. "Matthew, I…"
"Don't," he cuts me off, his voice harsh. "Just… don't."
We reach our room and he practically shoves me inside. I stumble, catching myself on the edge of the bed. Matthew slams the door shut, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.
For a long moment, we just stare at each other. His chest is heaving, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. I've never seen him look so angry.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Sarah?" he finally explodes. "Why the hell did you agree to swinging if it upsets you this much?"
I flinch at his tone, wrapping my arms around myself. "I… I don't know. I just…I wanted…" I choke out, the tears starting anew.
"This is so like you, Sarah. Playing these stupid games. Or were you really dying to have another man fuck you?" Matthew snarled.
I shake my head vigorously, my face crumpling as a fresh wave of sobs wracks my body. "No! No, that's not… I didn't want… I just…"
The words come out broken, fragmented, my breath hitching with each gasping cry. My legs give out from under me and I collapse to the floor, my vision blurred by the hot tears streaming down my face.
I curl into myself, hugging my knees to my chest as I rock back and forth, my entire body shaking with the force of my cries. The hardwood floor is cold against my bare skin, burning shame and hurt coursing through me.
Through the haze of my tears, I vaguely register Matthew's presence. He's kneeling beside me. Is he going to yell at me some more?
"Sarah…" His voice is softer now, almost gentle. I feel his hand on my shoulder.
I don't have the strength to push him away. I don't have the strength for anything anymore. I just continue to sob, my throat raw from the force of my cries.
And then, suddenly, I'm being lifted. Strong arms scoop me up, cradling me against a firm chest. The scent of Matthew's cologne envelops me, familiar and strangely comforting despite everything.
He carries me to the bed, laying me down with a gentleness I didn't know he possessed.
Matthew sits beside me, his hand hovering uncertainly before coming to rest on my hair. He strokes it softly, his fingers running through the tangled strands in a soothing motion.
"It's okay. You're okay now," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the room.
But it's not okay. Nothing about this is okay.
I reach for Matthew, my fingers curling into his shirt as I bury my face against his chest.
His arms come around me, holding me close, and for a moment, the world narrows down to this: the warmth of his embrace, the gentle pressure of his hands on my back, the whisper of his breath against my hair.
"I'm sorry," I choke out between sobs, the words muffled against his chest. "I just… I wanted to make you jealous. I wanted you to care. But I didn't want… I would never…"
My voice breaks, and I cry harder. Matthew's arms tighten around me, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head. His fingers thread through my hair.
"Shh, I know. I know, Sarah. It's okay," he murmurs.
It feels surreal, almost dreamlike. When was the last time Matthew was this loving toward me?
"I'm sorry too," Matthew says softly. "I shouldn't have let it get that far. I should have stopped it sooner. I just…I was angry, and I wanted to hurt you. But not like that. Never like that."
"I am not a whore," I murmur against his chest. "I know you think I am, but I am not."
"Of course I don't think you are a whore," he snaps. "You were a virgin, for fuck's sake. But what you pulled back there was so fucking stupid. What were you thinking?"
I snap my head up and push him off. "You went along with it too, Matthew. And you…you let that woman go down on you!"
"Serves you right for agreeing to the whole thing in the first place," Matthew says, shaking his head. "What did you think was going to happen?"
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable. The reality of what almost happened hits me like a freight train, and I feel like I might be sick.
"I can't believe I let it get to that point," I whisper, more to myself than to Matthew. "I feel so dirty, so ashamed."
"Why are you ashamed? You told him to stop, but he didn't. That bastard should be the one who needs to feel ashamed," he snaps.
I glance up at him, surprised.
Matthew looks away, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "Just because I am being nice right now doesn't mean I accept you or anything. I just can't stand assholes who would try to coax another man's wife like that."
I take a shaky breath, trying to compose myself. Matthew sits beside me, not touching me anymore, but close enough that I can feel the heat of his body.
I glance at him from under my lashes, taking in his profile. His jaw is set, his brow furrowed as he stares at the wall, lost in thought. I wonder what he's thinking.
"Matthew…" I start, my voice barely above a whisper. He turns to look at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. I swallow hard, gathering my courage. "Did you… did you enjoy it? When Vanessa was…" I can't finish the sentence, the words sticking in my throat.
For a long moment, he doesn't respond. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. I start to regret asking, wishing I could take the words back.
But then he speaks, his voice low and rough. "What do you think?"
"I don't want to think about it. I am sorry I asked," I whisper.
"I was angry," he says. "Angry at you for agreeing to this whole ridiculous thing. Angry at myself for going along with it. And the whole time, all I could think about was tearing that bastard off you."
My breath catches in my throat. "What?"
Matthew runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "The moment he touched you, I wanted to break his fucking hands."
I stare at him, my heart pounding. I've never heard him talk like this before. Possessive, almost…protective of me.
"You looked like you were enjoying it," I say in a small voice. I should stop asking. But I can't stop myself.
Matthew's eyes flash with something dark and intense. "Enjoying it? You think I was enjoying watching another man touch my wife?"
The word 'wife' hangs in the air between us, heavy with meaning. It's the first time he's referred to me as such since we got married.
"I don't know," I whisper, looking down at my hands. "You didn't seem to mind when Vanessa was…" I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
Matthew is quiet for a long moment. Then he reaches out, his fingers curling under my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His eyes search mine as if he's looking for something.
"I wanted to hurt you," he repeats, his voice low and rough. "I still do. But seeing his hands on you, seeing your tears…it was like a bucket of cold water. I couldn't stand it. No one else but me gets to hurt you."
I swallow hard. "You succeeded. Watching you getting pleasured by that woman hurt me a lot," I breathe and snuggle against him.
"Good," he says, encircling his arms around me. "She served her purpose then. I have no more need of her."
I let out a contented sigh and closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat in a steady rhythm.