Chapter 10
“Then fine! I’ll take the blame. I spent the night with another man. I had sex with him because I needed attention, and you weren’t there to give it to me, so I broke my marriage vows!” She finished, her voice breaking. “How is that? Will that do, Matt? Will that do?”
“You little bitch!” With that vicious curse, Matt grabbed her roughly. There was such anger in his eyes, a fury Colette had never seen before. He shook her violently before his lips descended on hers in a kiss that was more punishment than affection. He was rough, his teeth biting into her soft lips, making her bleed and cry out as he plundered her mouth with his tongue.
“Matt!” she tried to utter, shocked beyond belief, pushing him away with all her strength, but he was unmoving, a solid wall of rage and muscle. “Matt, no! NO! Please!” she cried into his mouth, but he was beyond listening. He had one job now—to hurt her. His body pressed against hers like a macabre trap, and Colette had no idea how to fight this. His fingers roughly grabbed her dress, the dress that had started this whole bloody fiasco, and before she could blink, he tore it away from her body, leaving it in tatters on the floor. It had been padded, so she wore no bra underneath. The way Matt looked at her naked breasts told her he was once again seeing her as an attention-seeking whore.
She tried to step away, hiding her breasts with her hands, ashamed of herself, of her body, as she tried to flee. But he was relentless. “I have the sole right to that hot body! You are mine! How dare you let someone else look at it? How dare you let anyone else touch it?” He was breathing heavily, his face red and angry as he kissed her again. “Do you hear me? Mine!” he breathed as his fingers removed her hands and grabbed her breasts roughly, pinching her nipples in a manner that hurt her more than it pleased.
“Matt, please stop! No!” she pleaded.
This time his mouth moved downward, taking each nipple into his mouth one by one, sucking and licking them before his teeth bit down hard, making her cry out in a mixture of pain and twisted pleasure. Matt had never been so rough with her in the two years they had been together. Tears welled up in her eyes as his hands grew more frantic, moving toward her panties. She shivered. She had already accepted that Matt felt nothing more than lust for her, but tonight, his behavior felt utterly dirty and disgusting.
“Whore!” The word echoed in her mind like a sinister refrain. That’s how he was treating her now, like a whore. The usual tenderness in his touch when they made love was gone. “Whore!” was all she was to him now. All the pretense had fallen away, revealing the raw, ugly truth. His rough mouth and fingers touched her everywhere, kissing, biting, leaving marks on her collarbone, her breasts, and her belly button.
“Matt! NOOO!” she cried out in shock as her husband tore her panties off her body in a single stroke, leaving her utterly naked. He was hell-bent on possessing her body like a toy. He picked her up and threw her on the bed before striding up and getting on top of her. She didn’t know what he was going to do. She looked into his eyes, those utterly empty eyes, and saw no softness, no concern, no love—nothing! There was nothing in there for her! Suddenly, she was sobbing uncontrollably, with big drops of tears falling from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.
And then, suddenly, Matt moved away from her, leaving her bereft on the bed as he jumped back.
Matt looked at her, shocked beyond belief. The anger, resentment, and pain suddenly fled his being as he saw what he had just done. He had almost raped her! In his jealous rage, he hadn’t listened to her cries, her desperate pleas for him to stop. He was a monster! A goddamned monster! His hands shook with the realization, his eyes falling on his wife, who was now crying profusely, curled up in a fetal position on the bed. God! He had hurt her! He saw the marks on her body, on her breasts, the rough way he had handled her today had left unforgivable marks, slowly turning angry red on her pale skin.
'God!' What kind of degenerate man was he? What kind of bastard attacks his own wife, his woman, like an animal? His body shook with tremors, tremors of fear at what he might have done if she hadn't been able to stop him. He would have taken her against her will, right there on their marital bed. His whole body shook with tremors that felt like they were coming from somewhere deep within his chest, shaking him like an earthquake causing utter destruction.
He wanted to go to her, to soothe her, to take her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was, to beg for her forgiveness for the heinous thing he had almost done. But he doubted she would welcome his touch right now. Or ever, he corrected himself, as he watched her curled up like a baby, crying like there was no end to it. “Itty, please…” he called her softly, using the nickname only he used for her, but she didn’t turn or look at him. If anything, she buried her head further into the comforter and cried even harder.
No, she would definitely not welcome his touch right now. Or his presence. He realized this as he slowly walked toward the bathroom, needing to calm himself down before he could decide how to deal with this. How does one get over something like this? How does one make her believe it was a mistake? He winced at that word, 'mistake.' Such a lousy word for what he had done today. He didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror, so he looked away as he got into the shower.
The water was scalding hot, but he welcomed the pain. It felt like a small penance for the horror he had just inflicted. He leaned his head against the tiles, letting the water cascade over him, trying to wash away the filth he felt. But no amount of water could cleanse his soul from what he had almost done. He closed his eyes, memories of the past night flooding back, each one a dagger to his heart.