Introduction
She does all she possibly could to try to get the pre marriage version of her husband back, but when all proves abortive it's survival of the fittest and she has to fight with her might to survive, not bothered about who survives and who doesn't, as long as she guarantees her own safety.
Chapter 1
It's not the gash on my thigh, nor the fading scars, nor is it the pain streaming through my veins, it's the nerve-wracking awareness of the missing usual monthly blots of red. His forceful, impulsive, rage-blind persona would prevent him from knocking me up, or so I thought…
…
At the sound of his footsteps, I scrub the ground with more ferocity to ensure his reflection stares back at him untainted. My hand becomes shaky as his footsteps draw nearer, a small cry escapes my lips as a sharp sting overwhelms my scalp from his forceful tug. I fist my hand and dig my nails into my palm to prevent myself from impulsively grabbing ahold of his hand in an attempt to release his grip. My body weary and battered as a result of his ‘doings’, lies still as he drags me across the hall. Who knows where this time around, but it is a given that I'd have more markings added to the collection.
He takes long strides whilst cussing, “Fucking woman, always in my way, every fucking where I turn always there”. My focus is on the searing pain in my scalp already numb to his words, hearing so many of it does that to a person.
He flings a door open and drags me inside, a small hiss escapes my lips as the edge of the door slits a part of my thigh.
I pray to the heavens for this not to hurt as much the next morning so I would be able to go about my chores in less pain, but it seems the heavens have decided to go on a vacation as the crack of his belt resonates around the room
Eyes closed, he runs his tongue across his lip to moisturise it, “come serve your purpose” he gruffs out
I dare not hesitate as I crawl towards him, a lesson learnt on several occasions in the past. I steady my shaking hands as I reach for the button on his jeans, followed by his zipper. I gently pull his jeans down and tap his thigh twice, a signal for him to lift his legs which he does.
I reach into the penis hole, present in every boxer for easy access during urination, to pull out his reddened cock making a mental note to release his balls gradually as I suck him off.
“Fuck yes”, he hisses as I rub his precum over his shaft slowly, my hands squeezing onto the throbbing member. The pounding pain in my head threatens to blow my brains through my ears but I persist, hastening my pace and then sucking him into my mouth.
His hips thrust violently and I keep my gag at bay, not wanting his belt on me. “This is what you're made for, nothing else you worthless dirt”.
I hollow my cheeks as he takes matters into his own hands and pleasures himself with my mouth, uncaring about the spit leaking onto the floor beneath. His thrusts are rapid and deep, bruising my already sore throat, his hand latching onto the back of my neck, as he bobs my head violently. My hands aren't still, hell no they dare not be, this pervert enjoys wandering hands on him, makes him feel wanted, creates the illusion of a desperate woman in need of his assistance in his head, while he uses me like a rag doll. The combination drives him to ecstasy every goddamn time, with a few plots and twists.
I'm suddenly hoisted up by my neck, feet dangling off the floor, my gasps, unruly hair, and battered body are scorched by the raking of his eyes, a satisfactory smirk adorning his monstrous features.
Okay Okay, breathe breathe this is the worst part but it'll be over before you know it, just don't cry or struggle, Fae please do this for yourself.
I brace myself just in time, his dick penetrating me through my clothes, dry as the Sahara, the friction caused by the clothes forced into me by his dick aids the ringing in my head, tears spilling down my cheeks.
Fae, the once sought respectable beauty, held on a high pedestal, known for my good deeds to society reduced to this all because of him, his venomous mouth weaving webs over my eyes.
I'm thrown against the wall, his hands on my thighs in a deathly grip as he keeps thrusting and degrading me further with the words in his mouth
A familiar warm trickle slides down my neck, reaching out only to discover there's an open gash at the back of my head. Dark dots fill my vision as I slip slowly into my safe space
“Fuck, fuck yes oh yes… arg” he finishes off and leaves me there, I'd tend to myself once I'm awake.
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TW: Graphic Violence, Suicide Ideation, Suicide Attempt, Child Abuse, Cult-Like Behavior
Accardi
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This is a slow-burn paranormal romance with steamy heat, deep emotions, and an age-gap dynamic.
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Touch her and die/Slow burn romance/Fated Mates/Found family twist/Close circle betrayal/Cinnamon roll for only her/Traumatized heroine/Rare wolf/Hidden powers/Knotting/Nesting/Heats/Luna/Attempted assassination
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As a ballet dancer, My life looks perfect—scholarship, starring role, sweet boyfriend Tyler. Until Tyler shows his true colors and his older brother, Asher, comes home.
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**
I hate girls like her.
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Delicate.
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I don’t care.
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I sit there shaking. My wolf curls up in a corner of my mind and whimpers.
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