Julia
As a great woman once said, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.
I stand in front of the mirror in the trendy boutique in New Orleans, examining the new strand of precious stones adorning my throat. I’d paid for the mind-blowingly expensive necklace using Jake’s platinum card, which had given me a small sliver of satisfaction.
He’d called in the early hours of the morning, begging for me to forgive him. At first, I’d told him that there was no way in hell I’d let him come crawling back to me, but all the while, my heart ached until the burn was almost unbearable.
One chance. That’s all I’ll give him.
In the meantime, I’ll shamelessly spend down his accounts in preparation for the worst.
Because it would be terrible if we divorced, wouldn’t it? I think wistfully of the lifestyle I’ve enjoyed over the last several years, excluding the months spent in solitude on the edge of a fetid swamp. I’d be losing much more than him if I left.
Doubt continues to gnaw at me as I gather my bags and head back to the car. I’d been so sure yesterday that leaving was my only option, but now I’m riddled with fear of the unknown. Maybe it won’t be such a bad thing to hear Jake out.
After all, what am I afraid of?
That I’ll forgive him?
A thrill of shame slides down my spine as I toss the bags into the passenger seat of one of Jake’s flashy little sports cars. I know I shouldn’t even consider it, not after he hit me.
“Get it together,” I mutter to myself. I don’t want him to see me rattled like this. Drawing in a deep breath, I force a veil of composure to drape over my features, obscuring the tempest that roils just beneath my skin.
The trip home seems to pass in a blink of an eye. A part of me wishes I’d hit terrible traffic somewhere between the city and Hahnville, but that would mean more time to wade through the troubled mess of my thoughts. That desire only intensifies as I emerge into the clearing of the driveway and catch sight of Jake’s car parked in front of the house.
Resisting the urge to ram into the back of the vehicle, I instead pull up a few feet behind it, knowing that it will piss Jake off that I hadn’t bothered to drive the few extra feet to the garage.
I’ve barely made it out of the car when the front door of the house flies open to reveal my husband.
At first glance, Jake’s as put together as ever. He’s wearing a pair of black slacks and a crisp button-up shirt in my favorite shade of emerald green. The sleeves are rolled to the elbow, revealing his muscled forearms. His hair is slicked back, reminding me of when we first started dating all those years ago.
But there’s something in his eyes, something that reminds me of the way Tanner had looked earlier. It’s like Jake’s watching me like nothing else exists, like I’m prey.
A shiver runs through me, but I shake it off.
We stand for a moment, studying each other in tenuous silence. I watch as his gaze flickers over the curves of my body, outlined by the new dress I’d gotten in the city, before hovering at the diamonds lining my throat. A blush rises to my cheeks, and I’m the first to look away.
“Julia,” he says after a long moment, drawing my eyes back to him. His voice is different from the desperate pleading of this morning. It’s softer somehow, almost muted.
“Jake,” I reply. I don’t know how else to respond.
His posture breaks, and he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “I… I’m sorry.”
I raise one eyebrow as the edges of my mouth quirk downward. He’s going to have to do a lot better than that.
He nods, as though this is how he expected me to react. “I fucked up.”
“Yes, you did,” I agree. I cross my arms in front of my chest for emphasis.
If the barb wounds him, he doesn’t argue. “The truth is, I’ve taken you for granted. When I first met you, I truly felt like I was the luckiest guy in the whole fucking world. But as time went on, I forgot to treat you like the beautiful, intelligent woman that you are. I failed you.”
I want to repeat my former sentiment, but I hold it back. Jake is not the kind of man who makes earnest, heartfelt apologies. I’ve never once seen him self-reflect or take responsibility for his own actions. This new side of him is uncharted territory, and I suddenly feel uneasy, as though the ground could shift beneath me at any second and swallow me whole.
“When we grew distant in our marriage, I should have talked to you instead of… cheating.” He yanks the word from his body with great difficulty. It only adds to my crawling sense of disquiet. “And then I… I hit you. I can’t excuse that. I won’t. You deserve better, and I understand that. If you choose to leave me, I won’t fight it. But before you do, I have to ask for one more chance. Let me start over, like we’re meeting for the first time. Let me do better. Let me be better.”
He draws in one long, deep breath.
“Will you give me another chance?”
The question hangs in the humid air between us.
Something deep down inside me doubts that Jake will ever change. But I want to believe that it’s possible, that I’m worth it to him.
What harm could one more chance do? If he fails me again, I’ll leave. And if it works out, isn’t that what I’ve wanted?
I close my eyes, fighting against reality and what I so desperately crave.
And then finally, I breathe out, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Jake repeats, his voice barely rising above a whisper. The word is laced with awe, as though he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.
Opening my eyes, I’m surprised to see that he’s tearing up. “One last chance,” I confirm. “Show me that you mean it.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs. He takes a step forward, raising his arms for an embrace, but I shift subtly away, my heels clacking against the gravel. If he’s disheartened by my cue, he doesn’t show it. Instead he tells me, “I’ve made us dinner. It’s your favorite.”
I allow him to lead me inside where I’m greeted by the delectable smell of the meal he’s prepared. I can’t remember the last time he’s cooked for us.
He stops in the hallway before we reach the kitchen, catching me off guard. He pulls his phone out and turns it to me, and I can’t help but scowl at the familiar contact page for Ellie’s number.
“I’m not showing this to upset you,” he explains quickly. “I just wanted you to see me delete her number.”
As much as I hate to admit it, it does give me a fair bit of satisfaction to witness him block and delete her. There’s no trace of emotion on his face as he does it, no indication that he’ll miss her or that he regrets cutting her off. As if for good measure, he navigates into his settings and turns off his password completely, leaving his phone open and unprotected.
“I mean it,” he states seriously, his gaze heavy on mine. “You’re mine, Julia, and I’m going to start treating you like it.”
Those are the exact words I’ve wanted to hear from him for so long, but now they settle unevenly in my gut, misshapen somehow. I want to be reassured by them, but the doubt slithers through my mind, clouding the sincerity of his declaration.
But I told him I’d give him the chance to show me, and even if he’s not a man of his word, I intend to keep mine, and so I muster up a tentative smile.
Satisfied by my expression, Jake takes the risk of holding out his hand toward me. I only hesitate for a moment before I take it and allow him to lead me farther into the house.
I expect him to take me to the kitchen where we eat most of our meals, but instead, he guides me in the opposite direction to the dining room.
A small gasp escapes me as I step across the threshold. He’s laid dinner out beautifully, complete with embroidered napkins and our best silverware. Tall white candles burn in sconces, casting flickering shadows through the room. It’s like something out of a romance movie, and I can’t help the traitorous flutter of my heart as Jake pulls a chair out for me before seating himself.
We eat dinner in silence. The food is perfect, but I find it hard to concentrate on the meal when I can feel the constant weight of my husband’s gaze on me.
Once we’re done, Jake rises without a word and collects our plates before disappearing off into the kitchen. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. It’s nice to have a moment alone.
Two large hands close over my shoulders, and I jerk forward, letting out a startled yelp at the contact.
“I’m sorry.” Jake breathes in my ear. He’s so close that I can feel the heat of him fanning against my neck as his fingers massage the knots from my tense shoulders. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
In spite of my earlier unease, I find myself relaxing into his touch. I can practically taste his desire as his lips brush over my hair and ghost over the soft skin of my neck. Would it really be so bad to give in? To allow him to give me pleasure after so much pain?
The moan I let out as his teeth nip at my skin is the only answer either of us need.
I tip my head to the side to give him more access. At this silent permission, his hands wander lower, brushing my collarbone. He hooks his thumbs on the thin straps of my dress and then, in one sharp motion, he yanks the fabric hard until the material tears. The bodice of the dress, no longer supported by the straps, crumples forward to reveal my bare breasts.
Jake’s never done anything like that before, but I can’t even be mad about him ruining my new dress, not with his fingers kneading the hardening peaks of my nipples while he presses hot kisses into the curve of my neck.
A groan tumbles from my lips as I squirm beneath his ministrations, but the hard wood of the chair beneath me offers little relief. Realizing what I’m trying to do, a low chuckle escapes my husband.
Once again, the action is so different from what I’m used to. A small blossom of doubt unfurls within me, but it doesn’t last long.
Jake’s hands skim down my sides until they reach my hips. He lingers there a second, teasing, before his grip tightens and he forces me forward off the chair.
I cry out in surprise as my breasts push into the cool surface of the table. One of Jake’s hands is splayed between my shoulder blades, holding me down. I know I shouldn’t like this, but just standing in this position flares the heat inside of me and sends pulses of lust surging through my veins.
One of Jake’s legs nudges between my own, forcing me open for him. A blush spreads over me as I realize that the short skirt of my dress isn’t covering much of anything.
As if he’s reading my thoughts, Jake runs one finger teasingly over me with only the thin lace of my thong between us.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he hisses. His words are punctuated by the sound of a zipper, and I rock my hips in anticipation as I squirm beneath his firm hold.
“Jake!” I gasp as I feel the tip of him against my entrance. He presses in ever so slightly so that I’m pinned between the table and his cock, unable to escape.
“What do you want?” he demands. There’s something dark in his tone, but I’m too far gone to care.
“You,” I moan. I attempt to back up onto him, but his hand holds me firmly in place.
“What do you want me to do?” he presses, unmoving.
Frustration builds alongside the pleasure. “I want you to fuck me,” I beg.
When he speaks again, I can hear the cold smile in his voice. “And who do you belong to?”
“You,” I breathe.
“Me,” he confirms. “You’re mine.”
As a reward, he slams into me, driving me forward against the hard edge of the table. I cry out in equal measure of pain and ecstasy.
The sound seems to spur him on. He pulls out almost all the way before thrusting back into my dripping cunt. It doesn’t take him long to set a grueling pace. I can’t keep up with him. My legs are buckling beneath me, my body supported only by the table and the cruel pace of his hips.
Sparks of pleasure coalesce as Jake pounds into me. They brighten in intensity until they explode outward with the force of a small star. I cry out, spasming around his cock.
Jake’s not far behind. My orgasm sends him over the peak, and he bites down hard on the soft skin of my neck as he spills himself inside of me with an animal groan.
It isn’t until later, when he’s snoring in bed and I’m freshening up in the bathroom, that I realize he’s left a mark. All of my fears flood back as I stare at the semi-circular bruise. Is this really what I want?
Conflicted, I pad back into the bedroom. Jake’s sound asleep, but my thoughts are racing too fast for me to consider joining him in bed. Instead, I wander to the window and squint out into the dark night.
My heart stutters as my eyes land on the shadowy clearing in the middle of the swamp. All the graves are gone now, and it should be flat, empty land. But there’s something there now, something tall, something shaped rather like a person.
“Jake!” I hiss, not taking my eyes off the thing. When he doesn’t stir, I turn toward him and repeat his name a little louder. “Jake!”
He sits up, blinking slowly in the dark. “What?” he slurs.
“There’s somebody out in the swamp,” I whisper.
Jake shakes his head dismissively. “It’s only Amos,” he sighs before falling back into bed, snoring once again.
“Seriously, Jake!” I press, but it’s no use. He’s fast asleep.
Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the window, wanting to get another look at this thing.
But when I focus back on the clearing, the figure is gone.
Only the swamp stares back.