Page 184 of Yearn
“What?!” Teyonah shrieked and tried to sit up, scrambling to cover herself. “When did he. . .”
The word "whore" hit Teyonah like a physical blow.
I felt her whole body go rigid beneath me, watched the pleasure drain from her face and get replaced with something that looked like shame trying to claw its way back in.
"Oh my God." Her voice went small. "Oh my God, Dominic, he saw. . .the kids—"
"No." I cupped her face, forcing her to look at me. "It’s fine."
But it was already happening. I could see it in her eyes—the spiral. The internalized voices Scott had planted over years of emotional abuse.You're selfish. You're wrong. You're a bad mother. You're dirty.
Meanwhile, that wordwhoredetonated something in my chest.
Not anger—anger was too simple.
Too clean.
This was boiling hot rage mixed with something more dangerous: protective instinct meeting territorial fury.
My vision didn't go red.
It went sharp.
Hyper-focused.
Every detail crystallizing with surgical precision—the way his finger shook, the spittle at the corner of his mouth, the self-righteous indignation twisting his features despite the fact that he was the one who'd destroyed their marriage.
He calledhera whore.
Her.
The woman who'd raised his children alone while he fucked his mistress. The woman who'd held this house together through his abandonment. The woman who'd been touch-starved and emotionally neglected for God knows how long while he played happy marriage with some young girl.
And now when she finally claimed something for herself—pleasure, desire, emotional connection—he reduced her to that.
Teyonah's voice was small, frightened. "Oh my God, Dominic—"
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” I let her go and was already moving that bastard’s way.
Chapter thirty-one
Checkmate
Dominic
Still riding the high of orgasm, still tucking my cock back into my pants, but my hands were steady.
My purpose was clear.
"Who the fuck," I headed his way, "are you calling a whore?"
Scott stumbled backward. "She's my wife—"
"Shewasyour wife." I closed the distance between us. "Until you threw her away. You don't get to reclaim her now with insults."
"You. . .are a child—" He was gasping, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "This is my house—"
"This isherhouse." I was close enough now to see the sweat beading on his forehead, the way his pupils were still struggling to focus and how his cock was definitely hard and pushing up against his pants.
