Page 81 of Forever Mr Black

Hot tears run down my cheeks. I find the words I don’t want to speak. “She told me about the first time you fucked,” I snap. “How you needed her. How you were so grateful she sucked you off. How you bent her over and fucked her.”

I want him to deny it. I need him to tell me that it’s a lie. Instead, he mutters expletives under his breath and keeps his troubled gaze straight ahead. He can’t even look at me. Because it’s true.

He did need her. In a way he’ll maybe never need me.

Fresh tears stream down my face, and my voice becomes brittle. “So, tell me, Art. Have I overreacted?”

His jaws clenched so tight that it looks like it might snap. He keeps his eyes on the road. His silence fuels the anger thudding through my veins.

“Well, have I?”

Nothing.

“We both know how you would have reacted,” I carry on because I want a reaction. Any fucking reaction. “If Theo had just said something like that to you, he’d have been on his way to hospital now with a broken fucking jaw—or worse.”

His knuckles turn white from where he’s gripping the steering wheel tight, but he remains silent.

Fuck him.

I need to get away from him. From this conversation and this entire fucking mess.

“Pull over,” I demand, yanking at the door handle.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s pouring down, and we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Stop the car.”

“No!”

“Stop the fucking car!”

“Fuck!”

Art brakes heavily and pulls off the road onto a country track. My head bangs against the headrest as we screech to a sudden stop.

I impatiently try the door handle. “Unlock the door.”

“You’re not getting out.”

Hot, angry tears well in my eyes as I glare at him. “I can’t be around you right now. You just sat there and defended her. Let me out.”

“No. Listen to me,” he demands, but I’m not up for listening.

Rage has taken over, and I’m not thinking straight.

“Unlock the fucking door,” I yell, as if screaming in his face would work.

He leans over and tries to grab my wrist to prevent me from yanking on the door handle again, but I lurch my arm out of his grasp.

“I get why you’re angry.”

“You have no idea,” I cry.

“Calm. The fuck. Down!”

“Don’t tell me what to do! Let me out!”

Art’s hands are on my hips, and I have no clue how he does it, but the next thing I know, he’s wrestling me onto his lap.

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