Page 36 of Coercion

The movement is too confident, the licking is too familiar. Ruby wouldn’t touch me like this, I doubt she’d even know how, and while the sensation isn’t exactly unpleasant, it’s not Justine I want. It’s not her I need to hear moaning, gasping, gagging on my cock.

“Get the fuck off,” I mutter, but she clearly doesn’t hear me so I grab a fistful of her hair, wrench her head back and all but toss her onto her arse at my feet. “I said get the fuck off.”

She blinks, staring up at me, her tits heaving like she’s still so ready for me.

“Preston…” She begins but I don’t stay to hear it. I just storm back into the house, doing my pants up, half cursing myself.

I should just fuck her, I should just use Justine like the whore that she is, but she’s not what I want, not who I want. My eyes fix on the man in the chair and before anyone can stop me I start laying in punches as if he’s responsible, as he’s the cause of all my troubles.

Blaine whoops beside me. Noah and a few others step back, silently watching, no doubt surprised by my sudden show of barbarism. Oh, they all know what I’m capable of, the level of violence I can happily stoop to, but I don’t do this, I don’t lose control, my punishments are measured, exact. I don’t act without reason but right now, reason is the farthest from my mind.

The only thing I can think about is Ruby. About how she writhed and moaned and clung to me back in that honeymoon suite, back when I wasn’t meant to be touching her, when I wasn’t meant to be doing anything with her. The pain helps, the punches seem to bring it all into focus, but that frustration still lingers under the surface all the same.

By the time I’m done, the man’s face is unrecognisable. His eyes are so swollen and black he barely looks human. Half his teeth are smashed from his jaw and there’s blood splattered all over me. Gone is the party atmosphere, gone is the bravado and laughter, that is except for Blaine, who claps me on my back and cackles.

I don’t have to check his pulse to see that he’s dead. Sure, that’s what we had planned but we wanted information first but I guess that ship sailed. I stand back, glancing at all the figures around me and silently leave the room. I don’t care what they think, I don’t give a shit what anyone has to say.

I need to think.

I need to breathe.

I need to get Ruby Fucking Holtz out of my system.

Ruby

He doesn’t come home. I sat up waiting for him the first night. I didn’t want to eat without him in case he got angry and, when it got past ten, Sidney brought up a tray.

Is this how it will be then, him asking me to trust him one minute and then abandoning me the next? Will he come back tomorrow once he’s decided a suitable punishment for me?

I don’t eat the food. I can’t bring myself to. I’ve been married barely more than twenty four hours and already my husband despises me. So much for winning him over then.

I spend the night in a fit of restlessness and because no one locks the door, I end up sleepwalking, coming around in a room I don’t know, and then panicking that it’s off limits and I’m in even more trouble.

By the time I find my way back to my bed I’m in a full blown panic attack and I can’t calm myself.

When the first streaks of sunlight come in through the window I’m both exhausted and relieved. Night time is always the worst for me. Night is when the monsters come out. When everything feels horrific and there’s never a glimpse of hope.

I get up, shower, put on another of Preston’s shirts because, once again I have nothing else to wear, and then I wander from room to room, trying to learn my way around without looking like I’m snooping.

Whenever I bump into the staff they all smile at me and ask if I need anything but I don’t know what to say. I don’t technically need anything. I know if I want, they’ll bring me food. I know there’s a clean comfortable bed upstairs and as yet, Preston hasn’t done anything awful to me. Hasn’t tried to touch me. Hasn’t hurt me in anyway.

And yet I feel lost. So lost.

All the emotions I’ve kept buried since my family’s demise seem to keep coming to the surface. I keep finding myself crying, sobbing, like I’m suddenly reliving my past all over again.

Everything now seems to remind me of her, of them. Both my parents. When I managed to eat some dinner one of the staff asked if I wanted salt and all I could think of was how my mother was so superstitious and used to throw salt over her shoulder whenever she spilt it.

When I decided to check out the library, the first book I saw was Huckleberry Finn – my father’s favourite, and the desk, it’s antique with a green leather top just like the one he had, like the one I found him lying beside with his face blasted off.

In the end, I retreat, no longer leaving the bedroom at all.

Preston doesn’t come back the night after, or the night after that. I guess he really is angry with me, isn’t he?

But if he doesn’t return, if he stays away, how can I apologise? How can I show him I’m sorry? How can I even start to make this supposed marriage work?

A tapat the door rouses me from where I’ve been effectively languishing for what feels like forever.

“Ruby?”

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