Page 51 of Dark & Deceitful

In the bathroom, I approach the stall like a turtle.Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle. I stare at my feet, not at the clear glass.

“Shut the door, would ya? Don’t want to let all the steam out,” he calls.

Following his orders, I do just that. Once we’re locked in together, he pushes open the door, and I look up. Under the spray of water and the overhead canned light, there’s the man I fell madly in love with and that smile reaches into me and fists my heart as his cock bobs hard and inviting in front of him.

When I look closer, because there’s a lot of yummy man to ogle, there’s a tattoo by his… member.

A pair of red lips.

Those weren’t there the last time we had intimate relations, which can only mean…

Oh.

Fuck.

I take a step back as reality crashes down on my shoulders.

He’s Abby’s.

He’s cheating on his woman with me.

I’ve now become the other woman.

I’m the home-wrecker.

My back hits the door as I retreat, and Dark’s out of the shower in a flash. “Babe.” His arms wrap around me, his face in the crook of my neck as I begin to sob. It’s unexpected and ugly.

I’m the other woman.

I’m hurting Abby.

What have I done?

What. Have. I. Done?

“In the shower. Now.” Dark drags me against my will into the steam and under the rush of hot water.

“I’m the other woman,” I whisper in horror, hands trembling at my sides.

“Fuck. Babe. No. No. Fuck. No.” Securing my face in his hands, Dark forces me to look at him. No matter how hard I fight him and try to wrench away, I have nowhere to go. My back is pressed against the far side of the shower, too far from the door, and his impossibly big body crowds me. “You can talk in here. The room is bugged. Just be quiet. Only whisper. The water will drown out the noise.”

“I…” A pained hiccup tears from my throat.

“Aw. Sweetheart. You’ve done so fuckin’ good today. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

“You…” I glance down at Abby’s lips and back to his face.

“Ah. Shit.” Dark rubs the tattoo with two fingers and squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s not what you think. I can explain.”

“You…” Trying to regain my composure, my bottom lip wobbles. “Don’t have to explain. She’s your… You know.”

“Wait. What?” He pauses a beat before those gray eyes finally round in realization. “No. Noooo. Shit. These aren’t Abby’s lips. They’re yours.” He pats the tattoo right there, next to his very erect dick.

“They’re what?” I whisper-screech.

“Yours.”

I frown so hard my face hurts. “No, they’re not.” That’s not possible.

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