Chapter 30 The Bruise And The Lie
Becca’s POV
He left.
He was broken but I was way broken.
I sat on the floor by the couch, staring at the smear of blood on my wrist and telling myself it didn’t hurt.
“Stop shaking,” I whispered.
“He’s gone.”
Asher had disappeared without a trace immediately as Mark's car drove out of the garage.
The clock on the wall ticked louder than my heartbeat.
I counted the seconds, half-hoping, half-terrified that the door would open again.
It didn’t.
Seconds drifted to minutes then to hours.
Slowly, the dreaded night had passed into dawn.
Asher hadn't returned so I began to clean.
The broken glass, the spilled drink, the toppled lamp.
“What game is the universe playing with you,” I muttered to myself in the mirror.
I barely recognized the woman looking back. I needed to see a psychologist.
Hours passed on and the silence in my apartment settled in.
I almost convinced myself he had actually left for good.
I stared at my phone and it looked back on me.
I reached for my phone to text Mark, then I stopped.
What could I say?
That I’d been wrong about Asher?
That I was scared of a man who said he loved me?
Knocks startled me from my thoughts.
Who was visiting again?
Three pounds came one after the other.
It was him
“No,” I whispered. “Please, no.”
The door shook again.
“Becca!” Asher’s voice, slurred, thick with alcohol. “Open up, sweetheart.”
I froze. Maybe if I stayed quiet…
I heard another slam, louder
“I can hear you breathing,” he said, laughing.
What a lunatic…
Well, there was someone that needed a psychologist more than me.
“Don’t make me break the damn door.”
My hands moved before my mind did.
I unlatched the lock, every instinct screaming.
The door swung open and he stumbled inside, his shirt half-open, a bottle dangling from his hand.
“Miss me?” His grin didn’t reach his eyes.
“Asher, it’s late…”
“Not for us,” he interrupted, closing the door behind him. “We’re not done talking.”
His words slurred together, but the anger underneath was sharp. He tossed the bottle aside, grabbed my chin, and tilted my face toward the light.
“You’re still pretty,” he muttered. “Even when you cry.”
I flinched. “You’re drunk. You should go home.”
He laughed “Home? You are my home, Becca,”
“My showpiece.”
The word showpiece made my stomach turn.
“Asher, please. I just want to rest.”
“Rest?” He paced, his shoulders twitching. “You think you get to rest after embarrassing me?”
“I didn’t…”
“Liar.” He pointed at me like a judge delivering a sentence.
“You invited him over, you smiled at him,”
I didn't respond to him, clearly he wouldn't believe anything I say,”
He smirked. “See? You can’t even deny it.”
I took a step back. “You’re not making sense.”
“I’m making perfect sense,” he said, voice rising. “You want to make it up to me? Then perform. Show me you’re loyal.”
The room felt smaller, the air thick and sour. My pulse thundered in my ears.
He reached for his phone, scrolling until I heard the familiar beat of his favorite club track.
The sound filled the apartment. It was too loud, for how dead I felt inside.
“Asher, don’t,” I whispered.
He sat down on the couch, his eyes glazed at me like I'm some meal that would be devoured soon. “Dance.”
My hands trembled. I forced a shaky laugh. “You’re drunk. Tomorrow, maybel—”
“Now.” His voice snapped like a whip.
I wanted to run.
Instead, I nodded, because survival meant obedience.
My body moved before my mind could protest, swaying to the rhythm that mocked me.
Each step felt like walking into a grave.
His gaze followed every motion. “You always look better when you’re scared,” he murmured.
I began to dance, moving seductively to him.
I watch him sliding his hands into his pants.
Gosh he was masturbating, while watching me.
“Strip for me!” He yelled.
Slowly,I began to take my clothes off,one by one until I was left with just my g-string pants and bra.
“Come sit on me,” I gulped but it was too late to back down.
I kept shaking my ass to the beat of the music and before I knew it, one hand cradled the back of my neck, the other slid around my waist, pulling my hips flush against his, and I could feel his dick poking my ass.
“Asher please…”
He didn't listen, his lips brushed mine, not kissing, he was torturing me.
I shivered and he noticed.
His mouth claimed mine, fierce and hungry, tongues tangling in a kiss that left me dizzy.
His hand slid beneath my bra, splaying wide over my bare back, fingertips dragging fire across my skin.
His mouth found my collarbone, then lower.
I writhed beneath him, moaning when he finally took one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking gently, then harder, rolling the other between his fingers.
My back arched, a cry escaping my lips.
“Asher, please…”
“Shh,” he said, eyes dark, voice thick. “I’ll take care of you.”
His fingers trailed down my stomach, slow and teasing. I was already wet when he slipped his fingers between my thighs, and when he finally touched me, just the softest stroke across my slick pussy, I cried out, hips bucking.
“So sensitive,” he whispered, eyes drinking in my every reaction. “Open for me.”
I obeyed, legs falling apart, breath coming in shallow gasps. He dipped his fingers into my pussy, coating them in my arousal, then circled my clit. He was gentle at first, then firmer.
The first flick of his tongue across my clit made me cry out, my hands gripping the sheets. He groaned against me, tongue moving in slow, maddening circles, fingers sliding inside me, curling just right.
And then, I shattered.
My orgasm ripped through me like a storm, my body was trembling
“Good girl,” Asher yelled, using his hand to spank my ass.
I was still shaking when he pressed the head of his cock against my entrance, teasing me, rubbing against my slick folds.
“Asher don't,” I pleaded but it was of no use.
He thrusted his hard dick into my pussy.
“Come for me again, baby. Let me feel you.”
I hated him but I hated my body more for responding to his touch.
His fingers found my clit again, and I broke with a sob, my body convulsing around him.
He cursed low, lost in the feel of me, and thrust harder, faster, until he groaned my name and spilled inside me, his hips jerking, body trembling above mine.
After releasing, he collapsed to the other side of the coach.
He sat back, half-smiling. I wrapped myself with the clothes there.
He reached for his phone again. “You know what I like about technology?” he said. “It remembers things.”
The screen lit up with a video thumbnail, one I recognized instantly.
My stomach dropped.
He pressed play. The room filled with the sound of my own voice, broken and pleading.
“Turn it off,” I whispered.
He leaned close, the stench of whiskey thick in his breath. “If you tell anyone, I’ll make sure everyone sees this. Especially Mark.”
My body went cold. “Why are you doing this?”
He smiled, lazy and cruel. “Because I can.”
He left not long after, humming the same tune, leaving the door wide open like an open wound.
He rape me and took a video of it
My phone was shattered on the floor, pieces scattered like tiny bones.
I picked up the land line
Help me. Please.
I hit send.