Page 115 of Lunar Desires
“I didn’t allow you to speak!” she snapped at me. “I’ll say when, which might be never because your voice gets on my tits.” She smacked her lips as if she’d just applied lipstick.
I spoke anyway. “What have you done with my boyfriend?”
Rather than laugh, she sneered. “Boyfriend? What a joke. Who in their right mind would want to be partnered up with a useless twat like you? It’s bad enough I’m carrying your baby.” She howled with laughter, throwing her head back.
My baby…“What’s funny?” I walked a dangerous line here, speaking when she’d told me not to. Fuck her. Let her slap me or kick me in the face. I didn’t care. I just wanted answers.
“How are you not showing one minute and now you’re huge?” I asked.
She stopped laughing, giving me her most vitriolic scowl. “What are you trying to say?”
“This makes no sense.”
She rubbed her stomach. “Interesting. I‘m the one with this burden inside me and you’re insulting me. Typical bloke.”
Man, she annoyed the shit out of me. “That’s your take on this?”
She sniffed, shrugging.
“Tell me about our child,” I pressed.
Our child. The words felt so alien, so terrifying. But if that was my kid, then I’d have to step up. No questions asked.
She gave me another smirk, familiar cruel glints in her eyes. “Did your dead parents never tell you about the birds and the bees? They should have after your shitty performance in bed.”
Just when I thought she couldn’t sink any lower…
More rage filled me, brushing my fear aside. “Don’t ever mention my parents again.”
She stepped back a tad from the brusque bite in my tone. “Or what? You’ll pluck out my tongue? Don’t make me laugh, Drake. I hold all the cards here, and you’re chained to a wall. Speak to me like that again, and I’ll have your balls with a side of milk for supper tonight.”
Fuck her threats. “Tell me about our kid.”
She smacked her lips again. “Give it an hour and you’ll see for yourself.”
“See what? You’re not at nine months yet.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we…” I practically swallowed razor blades at the thought. “Because we slept together six months ago.”
“Oh, Drake.” She wagged a finger at me. “Be patient.”
“Fuck you.”
She sneered, sticking two fingers up. “I have plans for you, Drake. Painful ones. Violent ones. By the end of it, you’ll be begging me for death. I’ll never make it easy. I’ll never forget how you ran away and left me for some pretty moonlight boy with a perky bum.” Rhianna’s nostrils flared. “How is he in bed?”
“Life changing.”
She charged forward and slapped my face. Pain shot from my cheek into my neck from the impact.
“You dirty fucking cunt!” she screamed and stomped on my crotch.
It hit harder than the slap. I grabbed myself and collapsed onto my side, taken down by a debilitating throb between my legs.
Rihanna cackled. “No better way to show a man who’s boss.” She spat at me, a globule of saliva hitting the cheek she’d struck. “Loser. I’ll see you in an hour.” Spitting once more, she stomped the candle out and left me alone to ache in the darkness.
“Riley…” I whispered through the pain. Barely holding it together, refusing to let my mind sink into the mire of terror again.
