Page 75 of Coercion

So much for not causing a scene.

When we get outside, I take in the barrels, and the crates and all the trash.

“Preston…”

“Why the fuck are you here?” He asks.

“I just came to see…”

“You shouldn’t have.” He snaps, cutting across my words like I’m not even allowed to explain myself. “And you shouldn’t have let that man touch you.”

“Excuse me?”

“He had his hands all over you, Ruby.” Preston growls, getting right in my face. “How do you think it feels to look around and see my wife with another man’s hands on her?”

My anger spikes. I know I should back down, apologise, retreat, but right now I’m too wound up to do any of those things.

I wrench my arm free and slam my fists into his chest. “How do you think it feels to see my husband with another woman’s tits in his face?”

He frowns. “Whose tits?”

“That girl. The barmaid.”

He shakes his head. “I barely even looked at her.” He says dismissively.

“No?” I smirk. “But Nico was the one who told her to shove off. What would you have done if she stayed? Would you have flirted with her? Smiled at her? Fucked her if she spread her legs for you?”

His face turns livid. “You’re accusing me of cheating now, are you?”

“If the shoe fits.” I yell.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You.” I hiss. “You’ve fucked half the barmaids. How else would they know…?” I wave my hand at his dick, hoping he gets my point.

He pauses, taking in long seething breaths. “They told you that, did they? Was that what this was, some interrogation? My wife decides to come down here and do a little investigation into my life like she’s some sort of detective?”

“It’s my life too. I’m your wife, remember?” I snap, slamming my fist into the wall the way he always does, only I let out a yelp because it fucking hurts and I was not expecting that.

He shakes his head. “I don’t give a fuck about those women. Yes, I fucked them, but it was a long time ago.”

I huff, folding my arms. It sounds like an excuse. Like some bullshit reply to explain it all. “Right, so they’re good enough to fuck but your own wife isn’t?”

“Ruby.” He snaps, pinning me against the wall with his hands on my shoulders. “You think I even have time to look at another woman when I’m either working or with you?”

“Men fuck. That’s what they do.” I state, jutting my chin defiantly. “You don’t fuck me so you’re obviously fucking someone else.” I don’t really think that, but my anger and my jealousy is making me say any shit that comes into my head.

He snarls. “You think I don’t want to fuck you? You think I don’t spend every waking hour dreaming about what your cunt would feel like as I was pounding into you?”

“Yeah, right, the noble Preston Civello, who’s so god damn saintly he won’t even fuck his wife when she begs him for it.”

His hand wraps around my throat, not tight enough to cut off my airway but enough to get my heart racing. “Beg me, Ruby. Beg me now and I’ll fuck you like a dirty little whore in this alleyway.”

“You wouldn’t have the guts.” I spit, goading him on, not caring that I’m pushing him further into whatever the hell this possessive rage is.

He wrenches my dress up, yanks it way up over my hips, and then he spins me around, pinning me face first against the dirty brick wall. His hand slaps my arse hard enough to really sting. He kicks my legs apart and I gasp as he tears my thong right off and tosses it.

I hold my breath, shut my eyes, listening out for the sound of him undoing his pants and when I hear it, I know he’s not bluffing.