Page 61 of Silent Ties

I’m pissed at him for setting the trap and I’m pissed at my wife for getting caught in it.

I slap her ass, over and over again. She stops wiggling, but her chest heaves against the couch. I love how messed up she is, her hair wild around her, her ass red. Her arousal coats her upper thighs and I tease a finger against her wet pussy.

Her breath hitches but I chuckle darkly. “Nah.”

I slap her ass one more time and back away from her. Her muscles sag into the couch, her body folded over the couch arm.

“Get up,” I tell her. “It’s not over. Not even by a mile. For fuck’s sake, Russet, it’s not going to be like last time.”

The box of toys, from her bratty behavior the other night, is child’s play. I’m not always into whips, but the thought of blood against her smooth skin is a demanding want thanks to the anger and annoyance I feel.

The sobs subside, but she doesn’t move.

“Sweetheart.”

I step forward and catch a glazed look on her face. One perfect tear drips from the corner of her eye, trickling over the bridge of her nose and landing on the couch.

“Hey.” I touch her back. It’s like she doesn’t see me. “Hey,” I repeat, shaking her slightly.

She slides onto the floor, her ass on the rug, but her head never lifts up. Her forehead touches the couch.

She’ll moan and whine, but she always matches my roughness. Meets me thrust for thrust.

Now she’s on the ground and my chest goes cold.

“Get up,” I tell her. When she doesn’t answer I growl, “Get. Up.”

“What’s the point.” The words are tired and sad.

“I said?—”

“Just kill me.”

The cold weight on my chest grows. Icrouch on the floor beside her, my hand grabbing her shoulder. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

Her forehead presses against the brown leather couch. “You said divorce or death.”

Fuck’s sake. I know my family keeps some messed up mottos but this quiet voice she uses scares me.

“No.” It comes out hard and dark. “No death and no divorce. This is for life, Mrs. Zimin. Now come on, get up.”

Please.

She tucks her knees to her chest but doesn’t turn away from the end of the couch. She never looks at me.

“You desecrated pizza night.”

My fists curl. “You went behind my back and went out of your way to keep it a secret.”

“I’m not being a brat. I just wanted pizza.”

“Then why the fuck didn’t you have Olga order you some.”

Fat tears roll down her cheeks. Damn it, what the fuck is going on in her head?

“Olga doesn’t even let me snack.”

“What? I literally came home to you eating a cupcake last night.”