Page 30 of The Auction
His fork clattered against his plate and it was clear I’d pissed him off.
“I’m not going to trick you into sex. Geezus. Do even know anything about it?”
“I know I’m not going to have it with you,” I said, with all the snark I could muster.
He clearly swallowed a retort, then I watched his face change as he took another angle. “Seriously, did your dad tell you anything?”
“Uh, yeah. That if I was a slut like my mother and opened my legs, I’d get knocked up. I never knew if he called my mom a slut for opening her legs for him and getting knocked up with me? Or did she cheat on him before she left him? Hard to know.”
Creed looked even angrier. “I’m not plotting shit. Unlike you, I’m not fucking devious like that. When I’m soaked to the skin and freezing cold, I’m going to strip where I damn well want to in my house-”
“My house,” I corrected him.
He picked up his fork and started eating again. “I’ve been straight with you from the start. You’re my wife. Eventually, we’re going to fuck. Now I know for sure you’re a virgin, we’ll try to take it…even slower. If that’s fucking possible.”
“But you’re not going to force me,” I said, making sure that point was clear.
“Not going to need to. When you got in the shower, after seeing my dick, did you touch yourself?”
“No!” I shouted. I’d wanted to, but I didn’t.
“I did,” he admitted, shamelessly. “I was hard as fuck seeing your cold little titties. I had to stroke one out fast, too,before the water ran cold for either of us. I might have set a record.”
“Okay, I’m fucking eating here,” I said, pushing my plate away as if the very idea of him masturbating was as disgusting as farting in my face.
He smiled and continued his meal unperturbed.
“It’s never going to happen,” I said, between gritted teeth. If I had control over nothing else, I had control over that.
“Yeah, baby, it is,” he said, calmly. “You know the first time hurts, right? I know your father taught you shit, but I also know you’re not stupid. You would have done your research on this like you do everything else. I have a big cock and the first time I fuck you with it, it’s gonna hurt.”
“Ooh, please tell me more,” I said, in my best Disney princess voice. “Will there be blood and scarring? Sounds delightful.”
He frowned, undeterred. “It will get better after that. You need to trust me. A year from now, you’ll be begging me for it.”
It was like he was walking me through my first time getting a shot. All the while shoveling spaghetti in his face.
Cold. Clinical. Nothing but the facts.
It only brought the thought home further. I needed to get out of here. Sooner rather than later.
Because, what if he was right?
EIGHT
JULIETTE
Recommittingto getting my husband to divorce me: Part II
This was bad.This was something I shouldn’t do. This was almost as bad as sabotaging the crops, but it felt less permanent.
Like he would be mad, but he’d get over it.
I don’t want him to get over it. I want him to know how serious I am about leaving.
Creed had been taking care of the tractor for weeks now. It had become his obsession. Every part that could be replaced, he’d replaced. All the belts and fuel lines. The pistons and valves. He’d basically rebuilt the engine from scratch.
And all I had to do was pour regular gas into the diesel engine and…boom.
