Page 19 of Split

Dangerous.

This is the side of him I fear; the one that’s terrifyingly unpredictable.

“I was just exploring,” I say shakily, backing up a step. I glance down at the dogs, both watching me with their heads cocked, as if the traitors didn’t just lead my monster right to me.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” Roman growls, advancing on me predatorily. I keep backing up, but his long strides bring him one step closer for every two of mine in retreat, until my back hits the stone wall and I’ve got nowhere else to go. He crowds me in, snatching up both my wrists in one large hand and yanking them up over my head, wrapping his other palm around my throat.

The dogs whine, but they don’t make any attempt to intervene. I suppose I don’t blame them. Roman looks completely unhinged, his chest rising and falling with his raggedbreathing as he presses in tightly against me, bringing his face so close that the tips of our noses brush.

“Stayoutof this tower,” he snarls, shoving a knee between my legs.

“B-but, this is my wing, isn’t it?” I stutter, searching for some passable excuse to calm the raging beast within my husband.

“Not this part of it.”

“Can you just give me a map with places I’m not allowed to go or something?” I huff, squirming against him in an effort to get free, the bones in my wrists grinding together painfully. “Because this is getting really confusing. I was only told to stay out of the east wing, not…”

He cuts me off by grabbing my chin, pinching my cheeks together harshly as he glowers at me. “Why do you insist on misbehaving?”

“I… I….” I babble dumbly, suddenly unable to form a coherent sentence.Probably in part due to how hard he’s pinching my cheeks together right now.

With his other hand, he suddenly releases my wrists, yanking one of my arms down and pressing my palm right against the firm bulge in the front of his pants. “Do you need to be fucked into submission?”

If I wasn’t at a loss for words before, I am now. His cock twitches against my palm, the sheer size of it making my throat tighten in intimidation. Roman’s arrogant, aloof demeanor oozes big dick energy, and now I know for sure he’s got the anatomy to back it up.

He finally lets go of my face, sliding his hand down to wrap around my throat once more. “I’ll bet you’ve been thinking about how good it’s going to feel when I rip through your virginity, haven’t you, pet?” he taunts, deviance flaring in his eyes as he flexes his grip around my throat, applying controlled pressureuntil he’s restricting my air slightly. “Remember what I said about pain and pleasure?”

I glare back at him, the way he calls me ‘pet’ making my skin crawl. I start struggling against him again in a feeble attempt to free myself from his clutches. He’s still holding my palm firmly against his erection, and I cringe as I feel it jump with excitement in response to my struggle. Then he suddenly releases my hand, and I snatch it away with a gasp of relief.

That relief is horribly short-lived.

With one hand still firmly wrapped around my throat, Roman drops his other to his belt, unfastening it with a metallic clink. A shudder runs through me at the sound of the teeth of his zipper separating as he drags it down, those penetrating green eyes still locked firmly on mine. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” he asks gruffly, an edge of annoyance in his tone. He pauses freeing his cock to grab me roughly between the legs, and I suck in a sharp gasp as my body responds by sending a surge of heat straight to my core.

Roman begins rubbing his fingers back and forth against my clit as I mentally curse the thin fabric of my leggings and panties– and I’m honestly not sure if it’s because I hate that can feel so much through them, or because they’re a barrier to his touch that some part of me inexplicably craves.

“Virgins always scream so beautifully,” he muses to himself, tapping his fingers against my clit once more before he withdraws his hand, shoving it down the front of his boxer briefs to grip his cock.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a virgin,” I rasp, my airway still partially restricted by his hold on my throat.

His brow lifts in surprise and he flinches back slightly, searching my eyes like he’s trying to spot my lie. “That’s not what your father said.”

“He probably also said I was obedient,” I snort, pressing my palms to his chest and trying to shove him back. He’s like a brick wall; hard and firm and immovable. “Let me go,” I grit out.

Roman calmly slides his hand out of his underwear, smirking as he leans in and darts out his tongue to lick a line up the column of my throat, ending just below my ear. He grabs me between the legs again as he nips my earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Never.”

But then he does– at least physically.

All at once, his hands release me, the heat of his body leaving mine as he takes a step backwards. Some twisted part of me aches at the loss of contact, keening for him to crowd me in close again, and I hate myself for it.

For most of my life, I’ve been isolated. Starved for touch. The way my body reacts to him– the erratic pounding of my heart, the breathlessness in my lungs, the heat pooling between my legs– is a purely biological response, nothing more.

My husband is a monster.

He zips his fly and refastens his belt, then adjusts his cuffs boredly, as if he didn’t just have me pinned against the wall while forcing me to touch his dick and threatening to rape me.

“Come.”

Both dogs perk up at his command, and the fact that I’m about to follow it like I’m one of them makes my stomach churn with nausea.

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