Page 51 of Boy of Ruin
I almost laugh at that. Sid wouldn’t be so hesitant. Sid would be all over my dick, fucking choking on it. She was so skittish about so many things—opening up to me. Letting me in her heart. Learning to cook.
But she had no problems with sex.
“It’s okay,” O says softly, picking her head up and trailing her open mouth down the side of my neck. A shiver slides down my spine as I keep my eyes locked on the road. O doesn’t smell like my wife. Feel like my wife.
She’s not my wife.
And that’s who I really want. That’s who I really need.
But she’s not here.
“Let me make you feel good,” O whispers, sucking on my neck.
I don’t breathe for several long moments, my foot shaking on the gas pedal, my fingers tapping against the wheel. But Ophelia dips her head and keeps stroking my dick, and I keep seeing it in my head.
Him on top of her.
Pinning her down.
His hands all fucking over her. That drunken smile on her face, her glassy eyes. The moment he realized who the fuck she was.
But I see something else too.
Her legs wrapped around him at that club. Her arms threaded around his neck, his dick grinding against her as he held her, shoved up against the wall of the bathroom.
She had been drinking, but she wasn’t drunk.
She knew what she was doing.
And if I hadn’t walked in…she would’ve fucked him.
I think about another thing. About the fact that we have the pregnancy test, the positives, her missed period, but that baby might not even be mine. She avoided going for an ultrasound. She wanted an abortion. Wanted to pretend my baby didn’t exist.
But maybe that’s because it isn’t mine.
She fucked Maverick, too, and he doesn’t use condoms. He told me he pulled out—my skin crawls thinking about it—but who fucking knows? My wife is a goddamn slut and—
I shift my hips, let O pull down my shorts, tears blurring my vision as I try to get myself together because I’m doing twenty over the speed limit and I’m not in a good place right now.
She left me.
She fucking betrayed me.
And if she’s fucking with him—and how can she not be, when she’s wanted him ever since she found out he wasn’t her brother?—I can never forgive her for that. He scarred me.
We hated each other long before her, and he fucking scarred me and made me watch him assault her.
I could never forgive her that kind of pain.
Besides that, I’ve let her do whatever the fuck she’s wanted, and I’m running low on forgiveness right now.
It’s my fucking turn.
I thread my fingers through Ophelia’s hair as she pulls down my boxers, wraps her fingers around my cock. Her mouth isn’t Sid’s, and she’s tentative at first, hesitant to take all of me down her throat, but when I shove her head down and she gags, trying to get away from me, her nails digging into my thigh, I don’t care.
It feels good all the fucking same.
And when I come in her mouth, biting my lip and thinking about my wife’s beautiful eyes looking up at me when she’s on her knees, my hand wrapped around her throat, it feels the fucking same.
