I feel my orgasm rush through me, and I know that Sloane feels it, too. His fingers flex and he fucks me wild until he’s coming inside of me with a roar.
He doesn’t stay inside for long. He pulls out and stomps toward my bathroom before slamming the door. I don’t know what I did to piss him off so much, but I’m not his puppet.
I may not be the cold-bitch I was three years ago, but I’m not about to follow after his every whim either. If this is a real relationship, a marriage, then there has to be compromise. Plus, I don’t think that I’m being unreasonable in not trusting him and his roaming cock.
A few minutes later, he emerges, still naked. I’ve slipped on the soft Devils shirt that I had been wearing earlier, along with my panties, and I have the covers pulled up to my waist.
I watch him move around the room, silently. He grabs his phone from his jeans pocket and pokes at it for a few minutes before he finally walks over to me.
“What do you want, Imogen?” he sighs, almost in defeat, as he sits down.
“I want this to work. In order for that to happen, I need to trust you. It’s been a long time since I’ve trusted you, Sloane,” I admit.
“I don’t see how we can change anything with you living here and me there,” he says, running a hand through his messy blond hair. He’s calm and rational, his green eyes bright and intent looking at me.
“I’m willing to discuss something different.”
“What if you lived at the house and I lived at the clubhouse?” he asks. I can’t help it, I burst out into a fit of laughter.
“What?”
“Tell me something.” He nods for me to continue. “When was the last time you fucked a clubwhore?”
I watch as his face pales and he winces.
Yeah. Exactly what I thought.
“So what? You’re gonna keep me on a leash now? I told you I’d give you want you want. Fidelity is one of those wants. I’m willing to put in the work, try to be the man you need me to be, in order to keep you and keep us together”
“That’s all fine and dandy, but I’m sorry, I would never be able to trust you living down there,” I say. He nods and looks down at his feet. “How about I live here until my parents’ summer party, and we see if this is what we want? I can come to Shasta for a few days here and there, and you can stay here?” I suggest.
Sloane lets out a heavy sigh and runs his hand over his face before he turns to me. I watch as his green eyes roam over my face, and land on my bruise. He reaches out and his fingertips touch it.
“I don’t want you here without protection,” he murmurs softly.
He looks so worried that it hits me somewhere deep inside. As long as I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him worry like this about me.
“Can you arrange that for a couple weeks, or do you want me to hire someone from daddy’s firm?” I ask.
“I’ll arrange protection for my own fucking wife,” he growls.
“Okay, Sloane,” I murmur.
He leans down and presses his lips to mine. His tongue sneaks out to taste my lips, but he doesn’t take it further.
“I have to head back to the club tonight,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to leave you,” he says, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against mine.
“Why do you have to leave tonight?” I ask.
“I have a meeting with my probation officer tomorrow morning first thing,” he admits.
“Yeah?”
“Gotta piss in a cup and all, sunshine,” he grumbles as he sits up.
“So that’s why you’re sober? Because the state is forcing you to be?”
“Sober for three years in prison, sunshine, not exactly a big deal to keep at it,” he shrugs.
“It is for someone who uses it as a crutch to deal with other parts of their past,” I point out. I then watch as his face turns red in anger.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “I saw your mom the other day. She did my makeup for me. She told me about the abuse. Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I ask.
Sloane stands and grabs his clothes, quietly and quickly dressing while I watch and wait for him to speak. He shakes his head after he pulls on his boots and looks over at me.
“It was a long time ago. My mother shouldn’t have said anything,” he growls. His body is stiff as he moves around, and I know this is a topic he has no desire to discuss.
“It may have been a long time ago, but Sloane, it’s affected your entire life. It’s affected us,” I murmur. His eyes flash with unbridled anger. He’s completely shutting down on me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Imogen,” he says as his eyes shutter closed and he turns to walk away from me.
If I let him go right now, I know that he won’t talk about this ever again. We need to talk about it. We need to have discussions like this or we’ll forever be two separate people living in a house together, when he’s around, that is. I climb out of bed and hurry down the stairs after him.
“Sloane, stop,” I demand as his hand reaches for my front door handle.
“What?” he bites without turning around.
“You can’t ignore this. We need to talk about it,” I call out.
I watch, waiting for him to leave me standing in the living room alone. To my surprise, he doesn’t.
He turns and looks at me.
His eyes are completely blank, and he looks the way he always did when I would bitch at him.
Bored. Indifferent.
Walls built so fucking high not even a professional rock climber could get over them.
“What do you want to talk about?” he sighs.
“Sloane,” I whisper as I close the distance between us.
He doesn’t watch me, his gaze focused on the windows that look out at the city in my living area.
Once I’m directly in front of him, I wrap one of my hands in the back of his hair and I tip his head down to look at me. That angry muscle in his cheek jumps, but I don’t let myself become bothered by his anger.
No matter how angry he’s been toward me, he’s never once hurt me. I may not trust him in many aspects, but I do trust that he would never physically hurt me.
“Your father hurt your mother when you were a child. Don’t act like it doesn’t affect you now. Don’t act like that wasn’t a reason you did drugs and drank, like it wasn’t an escape for you. And don’t pretend that sex wasn’t a way to have affection. It all ties in together,” I say.
His eyes go from blank to angry. I welcome that anger, because at least he’s not completely impassive.
“Fine, you want the truth?” he barks. I stiffen at his tone, but I don’t move away from him.
“The drugs and booze helped me escape when I was young, but he didn’t just hit her, he hit me too, Genny. As I got older, dope and booze, they helped me escape from your bitching. I know they were the reason you bitched, but I didn’t care. The higher I got, the more I really didn’t give a fuck.
“The pussy was easy and you weren’t. I didn’t give a fuck what I was doing when I was blitzed. I didn’t think about how you would feel, or about anything else. Getting caught was just another high. I wanted to. I wanted you to see me fucking those whores, to know. I got off on being able to talk my way back into your bed after you’d seen me inside of another woman. It was all a goddamn game.”
“Sloane,” I whisper as tears fall from my eyes at his hurtful words.
“You wanted to talk about it. You fucking got it, sunshine,” he bites out. I find that I hate the way he uses the nickname in anger.
“I’ve always loved you, Sloane. Since the moment I laid eyes on you across campus—you in your beat-up leather jacket and your jeans. The way you didn’t give a shit what anybody else thought. Then the way you would be so sweet to me. I felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world to be on your arm. After you graduated and you left, I thought that I’d lose you; but you came back every weekend, and I fell deeper in love with you with each passing day. That
boy, he’s still inside of you, he’s just hurting. I’m here for you, baby,” I whisper.
“What if I told you I fucked clubwhores all week long, then I’d come home and fuck you on the weekends?” he asks, arching an eyebrow with a smirk. I stumble backward, unable to be close to him.
“Why are you saying all of this?” I ask, holding my hand to my lips, trying to keep from sobbing loudly.
“You wanted to talk. You wanted to know,” he spits.
“You’re purposely being mean.”
Giving me a cocky grin, he continues, “No, I’m telling you the truth. I could be mean if you wanted me to.”
“Fine.”
“Anything else you want the truth about?” he asks, sounding like a smart ass.
The next words come out of my mouth on a whisper, “Have you ever loved me?” I’m unsure if I want the answer. I square my shoulders to hear it anyway.
“You’re mine, Genny,” he states.
“That doesn’t answer anything,” I murmur.
He grunts before he turns and walks away, his voice nothing but a lingering echo, “That’s the answer you get.”
He leaves me standing in the living room, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts and my panties. Tears stream down my face, and I wonder why the hell I thought getting back together with him was a good idea.
This is all a flashback to three years ago, just in a different house. Me, alone and crying, and him walking out of the door to go to his fucking club.
I pick up the crystal coaster on the side table and hurl it at my front door. It doesn’t break, and lands on the floor with a bounce.
That pisses me off even more.
I pick up everything that I can find that isn’t nailed down and I throw a fucking temper tantrum. I’ll pick it all up later, or maybe hire someone to do it for me, but right now I don’t care. I want to hurt something as badly as I hurt on the inside.
Fuck him.
Fuck Sloane Huntington.
SOAR
I leave Imogen standing in her living room, probably crying, and definitely feeling like fucking shit. I don’t know why I eluded to fucking whores while we were still dating. I said the lie to hurt her even more, as if I needed to lie to make her ache. I straddle my motorcycle and throw on my helmet before taking off down the road, aimed for the clubhouse, which is a few hours away.
I’m such a fucking dick.
I’m lost in my head as I drive, and I don’t check my phone until I stop for gas and I see my brother’s called me. Without listening to his message I call him back.
“Sloane,” he murmurs, and my brow furrows.
“What’s up Kippy?” I ask.
“It’s dad. He’s had a heart attack. I’m at the hospital right now. Mom didn’t want to bother you, but it doesn’t look good,” he chokes out. I know that he must be on the verge of tears.
“I’ll be right there, I’m in the city,” I state before I hang up.
I know exactly which hospital they’re at because only one is good enough for the Huntington’s. As I drive, I think about one of the last encounters I had with him before I went to jail. He’d called me to his office, wanted to talk to me about something. It was about money, money laundering to be specific.
I walked in, knowing he was probably banging his newest secretary since she wasn’t at her desk. I was right. There she was, her ass cheeks spread, and he was fucking her hard, except this one didn’t have that dead look in her eye. No, this bitch was getting off on it.
When he finished fucking her, he didn’t just throw an envelope at her. He helped her up and rearranged her skirt before cupping her cheek and kissing her, the kiss looked more intimate than the actual act he’d been performing.
I watched him slip her the envelope of cash, then he handed her a bag from Tiffany’s. He whispered to her and she giggled before she walked out of the office.
“Wanna tell me what that’s about?” I ask.
He grunts. “Not really, but I will. She’s a good little lay, tight pussy and tighter ass. I’ve decided I’ll be keeping her around for a while. If you want to know how to keep a woman, you’d pay attention to your old man. I could teach you some shit.”
Rolling my eyes, I ignore him before asking him what the fuck he wants from me. “I have some money I need cleaned up,” he admits as he sits down behind his desk.
“Money from what?”
“Can’t tell you that, son,” he murmurs.
I let out a harsh laugh, “Old man, if you want me to do you a solid that could land my ass in the clink, you’re going to have to elaborate on just where you got the money,” I state.
He sighs, “Fine. I had a one-time opportunity to make some cash. I invested and it was profitable, but I can’t claim that shit on my taxes, I’ll get locked up.”
“Don’t you have any off-shore accounts?”
He shakes his head, “I did it for you and Kipling. It’s enough that it will set your children up for life.”
“I don’t need it,” I grunt.
“I know you don’t, but I’m giving it to you anyway.”
I think about his words and his actions, then I rub the back of my neck. “I’ll do it, but only for Kip.”
Once my gas tank is full, the signal that goes off shakes me from my memory. I did what he wanted and he was right, the amount is enough for Kip and I to set our children up for life if we wanted to.
One day, I’ll give it to Kip.
Now there’s a true possibility that I’ll be able to give it to my own kids, but I’m not touching it, not ever. I don’t fucking need it, and honest to shit, I don’t want it.
I turn around and head to my father. It’s true, I can’t stand the man, but he’s been a good father to Kipling. He also leaves my mother alone to her own devices, which is more than he did when I was a kid. So for Kipling, I’ll be at the hospital, and for no one else.
Once I park my bike, I hurry inside, asking the receptionist where my father is before I head toward that floor. He’s in surgery, but Kipling and my mother should be in the waiting room. As soon as I step off of the elevator, I see my little brother sitting in a chair, his elbows on his knees and his head hanging low.
“Kippy,” I murmur.
His head shoots up before the rest of him does, and then he runs to me, crashing into my body and wrapping his long arms around me in a hug.
I hug him back, my baby brother. My hurting baby brother.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I rumble.
“It isn’t,” he whispers against my neck.
He straightens and looks over my shoulder, a smile breaking out on his face. His eyes rimmed in red from his tears, he abandons me for whoever has just stepped off of the elevator.
I slowly turn around and watch as my brother embraces my wife with the same affection he just embraced me with. I know they’re close. She’s known him since he was a baby; but seeing them hold onto each other, I wonder exactly how close they are.
I fold my arms over my chest and stare at them when a cool hand wraps around my arm, giving it a squeeze.
“When you don’t communicate, Imogen is our only link to you. When she refused to communicate with you the past three years, she and Kipling became very close. They talk on the phone often. Usually, it’s him telling her how much he wants the two of you back together. They have a very special sibling bond,” my mother murmurs before she releases my arm and walks back to her seat.
Genny’s head lifts, and I watch her. When she sees me, I watch as surprise, and then anger, and finally hurt settles into her features.
I’ve earned the anger and hurt from her—more than earned it. Kip turns away from her to go back to his seat, but his eyes flash to me and they look disappointed.
“I’m here for Kip and your mother. I figured you’d be almost back to your home,” Genny announces as she starts to brush past me.
I wrap my hand around her wrist and gently tug her back toward me. I massage her wrist with my thu
mb before I lean down to whisper into her ear.
“When you get feisty, it makes me hard, sunshine. I’m here for Kip, same as you.”
“Well,” she says breathlessly. I can’t help but smile as she clears her throat. “That doesn’t mean you need to be in my space.”
“Oh, but your space is my favorite place to be,” I murmur, giving her wrist a squeeze.
“That’s not what you were saying an hour ago,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes on me and trying to tug her wrist out of my grip.
“Out of all the shit I said to you, none of it was that I didn’t like being with you, Genny. In fact, I clearly remember telling you that you are mine,” I say, tipping my head down and making sure to keep my eyes even and level with hers.
“You broke my heart, for the millionth time,” she whispers, sounding just as broken as she says.
My eyebrows pull together and I let out a breath. “Sunshine.”
“No, fuck you, Sloane,” she states, yanking her hand out of my grasp. I let it go.
I watch as she walks over to my mother, bending down to embrace her. My mother reaches up and touches Genny’s face and shakes her head. Genny just shrugs before she sits down next to her. As always, from the outside looking in, I watch my family.
I’ve never really been part of my own family; from the time I was a child, I refused to be part of it. As I grew older, I only grew more distant. Now, they’re all strangers to me, even my own fucking wife. I’ve alienated everyone.
Chapter Nine
IMOGEN
I’m thankful when Sloane stays away from me after I walk over to talk to his mother. It doesn’t take long for the waiting room to fill up with society people, and I’m too exhausted to turn myself on.
Sitting in my holey jeans and a plain, navy blue t-shirt, with sandals on my feet, no makeup on my face, and my hair in a messy ponytail is how my parents find me.
“You look awful,” my mother gasps, walking straight up to me.
“I’ve been here for four hours,” I respond.
“A lady should always look her best. Look at Kalli. Her own husband is fighting for his life, and not a hair is out of place,” my mother hisses. Kalli squeezes my hand in a show of support.
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