Page 75 of The Tangle of Awful

“What? Nothing happened.” Her eyes dart to the floor. “Don’t worry about it.”

I rise to my feet and stalk over to her. Gently, I grip her jaw and tilt her head up so I can see her eyes when she lies to me. “What. Happened?”

She tries to look away, but my grip tightens, forcing her to hold my gaze. “You don’t want to know, Hugo. You don’t. Just drop it.”

“I want to know, Love. I need to know.” Anger swells up inside of me. “Tell me.”

I slide my free hand to her pussy. Her eyes glimmer. Slowly, I rub at her through her clothes. Her breath hitches and her nostrils flare.

“Did he touch what’s mine?”

Her eyebrows pinch together. “Hugo…”

“Goddammit, Aubrey, fucking tell me.”

She blinks several times, shocked at my harsh tone. Then, her face takes on that cruel expression that reminds me of her mother. “I had sex with Spencer. Are you happy?”

My blood runs cold at her words.

She fucked my son?

I reach behind her, lock the door, and then guide her over to my desk with my firm grip on her jaw. She whimpers, stumbling over her heels, trying to keep up with my pace.

“You promised,” I snarl, nose close to hers. “What the fuck?”

“I didn’t promise anything,” she snaps back. “I can’t help it that everything’s so confusing!”

I gape at her. “What’s so confusing, Love? I ate you out. We were secretly giving this thing between us a go.” Releasing her jaw, I drop my arm and glower at her. “But then you fuck my son behind my back? Is it because he’s a dick to you? That it? Like for a man to push you around and take what he wants?”

My voice is rising, but I’m beyond controlling it. Truth is, I’m pissed and fucking hurt. Yesterday, I’d thought something was happening between us and it was worth the risk.

“You’re being an asshole,” she accuses, tears in her eyes. “And loud. Someone could hear.”

“You like assholes,” I throw back. “You like being hurt. Tell me, did my son beat on you while he fucked you? Is that what you want?”

She smacks me hard on the cheek. “Fuck you, Hugo.”

I crash my mouth to hers, expecting her to fight, but she relents, allowing me to kiss her. It’s brutal and harsh, both of us nipping at each other’s tongues and lips. She whimpers when I roughly lift her dress and start wrenching down her panties.

This is wrong and all kinds of fucked-up, but I’m beyond stopping now. All I can think about is erasing his presence inside her. I need it to be me. I need her to remember how good it was between us yesterday and that it can be that good again.

“Did he even know how to make you come?” I demand, breath hot against her mouth as my fingers find her clit. “Did you wish it were me instead?”

She doesn’t answer, just kisses me again, losing herself in the moment. I easily bring her to orgasm with a few expert strokes of my fingers. Before she’s done coming, I flip her around, place my palm on her back, and push her over the edge of the desk.

Yesterday, I worshipped her.

Today, I’m punishing her.

Showing her the difference between gentle and rough. How she may think she wants it to hurt, but she doesn’t. She needs to know the fucking difference.

I take a brief moment to admire her ass poking in the air before quickly unfastening my slacks to pull out my cock. Spitting into my hand, I then stroke over my dick to wet it, and then I’m pressing against her slit.

A low groan rumbles from her. I reach forward, slapping a hand around her mouth to keep her from making a sound, and then slam into her slippery, tight body, finally taking what I’ve dreamed about for what feels like an eternity. Her cunt grips me in a way that makes me see stars. Without waiting for her to adjust to my thickness or incredible length, I quickly pull back and drive in so hard the slap of our flesh echoes in the room.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Over and over, I thrust into her perfect body, not trying to make it sweet or make it last. I want this to be quick and a brutal reminder. The next time we fuck, I’ll make love to her like she deserves. Right now, I need her to feel my anger and hurt.

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