Page 17 of Clash
I shook my head, staring at the drunk biker who was currently using one of his dining room chairs as a crutch.
“Why do you hate me?” he asked, his desperate eyes meeting mine.
“I don’t hate you,” I whispered. “I barely know you.”
The pain in his eyes was real, and I wasn’t sure how I should take it. “You’re right,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t know me, but my heart.” He pointed to his chest. “This empty vessel right here, is filling up because of you and your son. How do you explain that? Just looking at you has turned my whole world upside down.”
“You’re drunk, Clash. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
He held up an angry finger, shaking it at me as his eyes narrowed. “Don’t fucking put words in my mouth, woman!”
Instantly, that fear came rushing back, images of Eric using woman as a derogatory nickname hitting me full force.
“You look at me when I’m talking to you, woman!” He gripped my face, almost snapping my neck as he forced me to look up at him. “I asked you a fucking question, woman! Now tell me, where the hell is my good tie?”
“I—I don’t know, Eric. When did you last have it?”
My husband’s wild eyes, inebriated and manic with delusions, glazed over, as if he was trying to remember the last time he had the stupid tie.
“Oh, I remember now.” A sick smile spread across his face, his features darkening with malice and spite. His hand curled into my hair, ripping my head back so I was staring at him in fear. “I used it to fuck my secretary with. Tied the bitch up, pushed her over my desk, and fucked that juicy little pussy of hers.” Tears pricked my eyes as his grip tightened, with no remorse for anything he was doing or saying. “Does that turn you on? Knowing another bitch has sucked my cock and satisfied me in ways a woman like you could never do.”
“No,” I whimpered. “Please, stop torturing me.”
He laughed sadistically. “Oh, if you think this is torture. Wait till you see what I have in store for you.”
He pushed me to the ground, undoing his belt and snapping it. My body recoiled at the sound, too afraid of what came next.
“I’m going to whip you until you admit the thought of me fucking other women turns you on.”
The first vicious sting went across my back, as the belt, buckle and all, hit my ribcage.
“Say it, you ugly slut! Say you like the idea of me fucking other women!”
My teeth clamped down on my lips as he hit me again, this time breaking open the skin.
“I SAID SAY IT!” he roared, whipping me over and over again until I finally cried out, too broken to fight his wrath any longer.
“I fucking love it!” I screamed. “Is that what you want to hear?”
He laughed. God, how that laugh sent shivers up and down my spine. “I knew it!” He threw the belt on the bed, but the damage was already done. Blood leaked from my open wounds, dripping down the small of my back until droplets appeared on the floor.
When I finally lifted my head to look at him, I was met with his hardened dick, his eyes wild with desire.
“Next time, you’re going to watch,” he said in glee. “You’re gonna sit naked on that chair, touching yourself while I fuck another woman’s pussy in front of you. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll give you a little taste of what you’re missing, but we all know what a disgusting piece of trash you truly are.” He started stroking himself, smiling evilly as he looked down at me bleeding and full of tears. “But for now, I guess you’ll have to do. Suck me off, woman. Now before I lose my temper again!”
And like the good little wife… I obeyed.
“Damn it, stop looking at me like that!” Clash shouted, bringing my attention back to him.
“What?”
“Like you hate me… like I disgust you.”
“I wasn’t…”
He slammed his hand on the table, making me scream in fear. Somehow, Alex didn’t even stir. Thank god he’s a sound sleeper.
“See! That right there. You’re afraid of me. Why? How? How can you be afraid of me when I’m completely enamored by you?”
