Page 90 of Dirty Husband
Fuck, I've barely considered the girlfriend. I don't regret what I asked of her last year. It was necessary. But I'm sure she holds it against me.
Some people—
Most people don't see the world the way I do. Whatever it takes, to get what I want, whatever that means for others. Selfish, maybe, but I don't give a fuck. If there's something in the way of Jasmine's safety, I'm not going to ask nicely.
That's about all I can promise.
I can't offer her happiness or love—
I don't understand happiness or love.
People say they're happy when they have certain things or hit certain milestones. Are they really? Or are they telling themselves some story?
Having her here, living in my space, mine in every practical way, but not the ways that matter—
It's fucking confusing. I start thinking ridiculous things. Wanting ridiculous things. Like her heart.
Like her accepting my heart.
That's impossible. There's no heart in my chest. There's a black hole that sucks in pain and circulates it through my entire fucking body.
I can't offer her love.
I can't offer her happiness.
But I can make her come.
I can unzip her dress, push it to the floor, bend her over the table—
"Are you okay?" she asks again. All her. No assistant voice.
"No."
"Oh." Her eyes meet mine. "We do have time. Before we leave to meet your brother."
"We have time?"
"Yes." Her voice drops to a seductive tone. "It's been a few days."
I nod.
"You've been avoiding me?"
"I'm busy."
She stares back at me with disbelief. "At least an hour. By my count. There must be a reason you're ready early."
Yes, I want to fuck her senseless. But it's too much for her. She isn't ready for that. "You don't know what you're asking."
"I don't?"
"I had patience the other day. I don't right now."
"So?"
"I can't be careful. I can't promise to follow your limits."
Her eyes bore into mine. She stares at me, looking for something.
