Page 22 of Anorthic Anarchy

“Happy eighteenth birthday, wife.” His hot breath spreads along my spine, and the utter petrifying panic frays every nerve ending in my body.

As I attempt to raise myself on my knees and elbows, his thick hardness presses between my legs. I try to clamp them closed, but even while I do, he thrusts inside me with a mighty force, ripping everything in his wake as I shriek in agony.

The pain is unbearable. It hurts so badly, my lungs seize. Unlike getting my nose bumped by the girl in the cellar and not like the time I fell out of my window at home while attempting to sneak out to find Wyatt…

This agony is like a fire lit on my insides and is threatening to burn its way out. It doesn’t let up as he continues to drag himself out arduously before punching himself back in.

Are dicks supposed to be this huge? This hard?

From the movies I’ve watched, it shouldn’t feel this way. We should be in a bed, and he would face me. Kissing me gently and holding my face like he did this afternoon during our vows. My first time shouldn’t be like this. Especially with my husband.

He works inside of me with rough movements and even coarser grunts. Using me like one of his many whores, his hips slap against my backside unrelentingly. If I pull away, I strangle myself, so I just lie there, tears falling down my cheeks as I will him to hurry.

But it seems he’s taking his time, forcing some brutal redemption out on my body. When I try to focus on anything else, he spanks my ass cheek over the fresh branding so powerfully, I lurch forward and lose my air again. I vomit up some bit of my cake onto the floor in front of my face. With a hand on the back of my head, he forces my nose into it.

At some point, I give up the fight and relax onto the soaked carpet completely. Fingers loosen their grip, and I just melt.

Wyatt will kill him.

And as if he heard my thoughts, he tugs on his belt, raising my back to his chest as he gives a final thrust inside my ravaged pussy.

“Your brother is dead. You were the last Barrington. But now you’re mine.”

Then hot liquid spews into me as I grit my teeth against his intrusion, my heart shattering as he comes. Is it true?

Is my brother dead?

In deathly silence, he pulls out of me as I slump against the hard floor.

I don’t even move. Why should I? What’s the use anymore?

His steps wander away up the stairs, but I remain still. Tearing aches rage between my thighs, which are now soaked with his spend and my blood.

It hurts to breathe. My chest feels as if it has caved in, and I want it to.

I long for death.

Closing my eyes as tightly as I can, I will myself to die. But it doesn’t work.

In a few moments, a small figure approaches from the hall beneath me. It climbs a few steps, then kneels to peer into my face. Blinking at Chloe, some part of me wonders about the transformation in her countenance from caring ally to cold bitch.

“Welcome to the family, Mrs. Strauss.” With a haughty laugh, she continues upward, her feet following my husband.

In the hours that pass, my devastation devolves into a want for destruction. The clock chimes once. Twice. Three times.

I rot.

The burning torment within my ashen body changes from a tribulation to a charge for triumph.

Somewhere in my defeat, I decide. He will not break me. If my only reason for living is to win, I’ll do it. Perhaps it’s a delusion, but I refuse to believe my brother is dead. The enemy is probably lying in order to get me to crumble. But from the rubble, I’ll turn into a raging Phoenix.

My innocence was torn from me. So I resolve to get revenge.

He thought I was a snake…

But he hasn’t even seen my fangs yet.

Chapter 11

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