Page 14 of Desire and Revenge

The line goes dead before I can say anything else, and I peel the phone away from my ear and stare into nothing. My life stretches out in front of me, but all I can see ahead is humiliation and unhappiness. How long will it take for me to break down into a shell of nothing?

My duty.

I’ve been hearing those words for so long. Too many years of being told what my duty is. It used to be something I looked forward to, but now, the words alone make my stomach churn.

Unfortunately for me, the hours slip away too quickly, and soon I’m lying in bed, staring at the clock on the bedside table, watching each minute tick by. Religion has never been a big part of my life—I go to church every Sunday with my parents, but I usually just tune out the priest. Today, though, I find myself praying.

I’m not surprised when my prayers go unanswered.

The door flies open, and there stands my husband, shirt half-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up his forearms.

“I apologize if what I said at breakfast offended you. It’s just that this is hard for me too. I didn’t want this.”

Even though he didn’t spell it out, the implication is clear. It’s obvious what the “it” he was referring to means. He didn’t want me. Didn’t want this marriage, but was practically roped into it because it made sense.

Everyone said we made sense, but do we really? Or was it all just a façade, a union that looked good on paper, to the masses, to our families?

They couldn’t care less about how we actually felt.

Of course they didn’t. In my short time on this Earth, I’ve realized they never did. Never cared about my interests, my feelings, or how I would perceive their actions. It never mattered to them how their decisions would affect me.

I learned long ago that what I want has never mattered. It was always about what they could gain from the situations they placed me in and the decisions they made for me. In the end, I am just a pawn on their chessboards, moved around whenever and however they please.

Looking at Sebastian now, I can tell he’s in a similar situation. But he’s a man, a made man, so it’s different for him. He can still bend the rules to his advantage. Typical.

“Are you okay?” His voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I nod, forcing a smile.

“You know you can always talk to me.” I can’t, but it’s nice that he pretends to care by asking.

“Yes, I know.” I tilt my head up to catch his expression in the dim light. He’s inches from me. He’s in my room. We’re alone. That can only mean one thing.

My duty.

The next moment, he’s on the bed, and I’m in his arms.

It makes sense.This makes sense, I keep telling myself.

It’s my duty. It’s my duty.

We do this so I can get pregnant, nothing more. We could never be more. The sooner I accept that and keep a certain someone out of my thoughts, the easier this will become for me.

I rise to my knees as he meets me halfway on the bed, and I kiss him.

This kiss says everything I need him to know.

This is nothing more than my duty. And he responds in kind.

His tongue traces over my bottom lip, and I feel him return the kiss—without hesitation. In fact, he pushes the kiss further, biting my lip and growling as if he’s savoring the moment.

But we both know he’s faking it, because he barely touches me.

Soon, I’m lying on my back, eyes closed, as I hear the clank of his belt. The bed dips under his weight as he spreads my legs. I give him a small, forced smile, bracing myself for what’s to come.

His mouth presses against mine and I open for him easily, allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth. I let out a moan I don’t feel, and his hand slides up to squeeze my breast.

“Hmm.” He makes a sound deep in his throat as he begins to suck on my neck. A faint tingle of arousal shoots down my body and the gasp I let out is real.

He tears his mouth off my skin just as it starts feeling good and he begins to undo his shirt, one button at a time till he finally whips it off him. My husband’s body is beautiful like the rest of him—well-muscled and tan, with tattoos running down his arms.

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