Page 162 of My Ruthless Husband

I take a deep breath then nod. He then slowly withdraws. And then he pushes inside me. Slowly, inch by inch, stretching me, filling me in a way that feels both painful and unbearably good.

“Fuck, River…” his voice strained. “So fucking tight.”

I can barely breathe, overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside me, but the dull pain starts to fade, replaced by a deep, aching pleasure. He pulls out slowly, only to thrust back in, harder this time, and I moan, my body arching up instinctively to meet him.

He sets a steady rhythm, each thrust harder, faster, his hips slamming into mine as he fucks me. The sound of our bodies colliding fills the room, and I’m lost in the sensation, lost in him.

“One look at you…” His hand grips my hair, pulling my head back so I’m forced to look into his eyes as he takes me, his hips slamming into mine with a force that makes my body rock.

“And I had to have you,” he growls, his voice dark, possessive, sending shivers down my spine as he fucks me hard, his cock filling me over and over.

I cling to him, my hand fisting in his hair and the other wrapped around him as he takes me relentlessly, his pace unforgiving, and I can feel my release building again.

“Damian!” I gasp as he thrusts harder, his cock hitting deep inside me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

His lips brush my ear as he speaks. “Now you’re completely mine,” he murmurs, his words sending a shiver of heat through me as my orgasm crashes over me, my body convulsing beneath him.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath as he flips me over onto my stomach, his hands gripping my hips as he pulls me up onto all fours.

His cock slams into me again, and I can’t hold back the scream that rips from my throat, the pleasure and pain too much to bear. He’s relentless, his pace brutal, and I can feel the heat of his body against mine as he fucks me harder, his hand gripping my hair, pulling me back so I’m forced to take every inch of him.

“Damian!” I cry, my body shaking as he drives into me over and over.

He lets out a low growl, his hips slamming into mine one final time before I feel him come inside me, his cock pulsing as he fills me completely. I collapse onto the bed, my body spent, trembling beneath him, his weight pressing down on me as he leans over, his breath hot against my skin. “Now we both suffer.”

Without warning, he pulls out of me, making me whimper. Then just as abruptly, he springs off the bed, his movements sharp, angry.

“I need a shower.” His voice is flat, detached—like what just happened didn’t even matter.

The sheets are still tangled around me as I struggle to sit up.

My heart twists painfully as I watch his broad back disappear through the door. The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut feels final, as though our special moment we just shared meant nothing to him.

Humiliation burns in my chest. He just… left. My eyes sting, and I bite my lip to hold back the tears. I’m still here, exposed, vulnerable, while he washes away any trace of me.

The next day, Damian locked himself away in his study, leaving me to wander the massive, cold castle alone. I didn’t see him at all, didn’t hear a word from him. It was as if I’d vanished from his world the moment the sun rose.

Every night, though, he came to me. He fucked me in the darkness, took what he wanted without a word, without tenderness, then disappeared again before the morning light touched his side of the bed. It was a brutal routine, and I felt more like a ghost in his life than his wife.

We stayed in that castle for a week, an endless cycle of silent days and lust-filled, hollow nights. I kept hoping things would change, that he’d finally look at me, see me for more than just a body to use. But every morning I woke to find his side of the bed cold, my heart a little colder too.

By the time we returned to Los Angeles, something inside me had cracked. The bubble I’d built around us burst. I realized that Damian wasn’t just distant; he was deliberately keeping me at arm’s length. I was clueless before. I remember spending sleepless nights worrying over the reasons behind this sudden change in him. But never got the answer.

Over that year, I loved him with everything I had. I tried, God, how I tried. I thought if I gave him time, if I showed him enough devotion, he’d eventually see me, love me. I would wait by the door like a fool every time he left for one of his endless business trips, hoping he’d say something—anything—that would tell me he was starting to care. But he was barely home. Weeks would pass, and when he finally did return, it wasn’t for me. It was for those cold nights when he’d take me, rough and wordless, like I was something to be used, then discarded. I tried to make those moments count, tried to tell myself that at least he was with me, that at least I had a piece of him, even if it wasn’t love.

But the truth was, those nights only deepened the ache. He would leave again before the morning light, off to whatever business mattered more than I did. I would stand at the window, watching, waiting for him to come back, praying that maybe this time, he’d stay more than a week. That maybe, just maybe, he’d look at me like I was his wife and not just some burden he was forced to bear.

Each time he left, the silence he left behind swallowed me whole. I filled that silence with hope, with excuses for him, convincing myself that the next time would be different.

It never was.

My heart broke a little more every time he walked out that door. The love I poured into every look, every touch, every word—he took it and gave nothing back. And still, I stayed, still I tried to be the wife he wanted, even though he barely acknowledged I existed outside of those brief, brutal moments we shared in bed. I was always waiting. Waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to see me, waiting for the love I craved.

But now… now I know better. Damian will never love me. He never did. And the worst part is, I think he knew all along. Knew that no matter how hard I tried, he would never give me what I wanted because this was never about us. It was always aboutsomething else—some grudge, some hatred against my father that goes beyond business rivalry, something I can’t even begin to understand.

That’s how I ended up here, trapped in a loveless marriage with a man I once thought could love me back. A man who took everything I had to give and left me with nothing but the ache of knowing I was never enough for him. And that’s how Damian who was the love of my life became my ruthless husband.

Chapter Forty-One

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