Evil Of Love (17 page)

“I need you like this, Steph.”

The head of his shaft presses against my clit and I thrust my hips up for friction and that’s all he needs. I feel him press inside me, filling me and I moan loudly in response. Wrapping my legs around him, gripping at his back, he takes my mouth in his and begins to move his hips slowly. He catches every one of my moans in his mouth, matching them with his as he moves his body with mine. The heat of our bodies rising together and I dig my nails into his skin deeper as his pace picks up.

“I love you,” he groans in my mouth. “I need you, Steph. I need you to be mine.”

              A tear falls down my cheek because I know that this may not have the happy ending we want, but I want this moment to last. No matter what happens I want to remember the love that he has for me, I want to feel it every day for the rest of my life.

             
“I love you, Eric.”

             
He buries his face into my neck, pushing into me harder and faster as I climb to another orgasm. Tugging at my hair, sucking on my neck, I release around him. Screaming his name in pleasure and he releases along with me, moaning into my neck. Both our bodies come to a slow pace until finally becoming still and we relax together, as one. I sigh, in pure bliss.   

Chapter Twenty One

I curl up on the couch for another night of faking sick. I’m feeling guilty for lying and betraying my husband, especially after today. Eric and I didn’t just fuck, we made love. Sex with him was something I’ve only experienced with him. Even though I’m feeling guilty lying here on the couch in my nightgown while Travis is taking his shower, I still can’t help but fantasize about Eric. What I feel for him outweighs the guilt.

              Today I didn’t want to leave Eric’s place. After several hours of love making, we enjoyed a glass of wine and he had a strawberry cheesecake he had bought that we enjoyed as well. I will never get tired of him telling me about his fights and how he’s working towards being number one in his weight class. We talked about his fight coming up and how happy he is that I’ll be there. I’m excited; I’m just not sure how I’m going get it past Travis. I’ve always been home in the evenings. I can’t even begin to think how I’m going to convince him that I will not be home for a night. Either way, right now I’m lost in the bliss that is Eric and nothing can bring me down from this high. Never in my life have I felt this happy to be around a man.

             
Curled up under the throw blanket, I hear Travis’ footsteps as he begins to come downstairs. I’m still on the couch, afraid that he will see right through me and my lies. When he came home and I was laying here he didn’t say a word to me, just went to the bathroom to take his shower.

             
“Why are you lying here on the couch, Stephanie?” he asks from behind me and I turn to face him. His dark hair wet and messy. He’s shirtless and his sweat pants are hanging low to the point that I can see his pubic hairs. It’s a sexy look, I won’t deny him that, but then I get a look at his dark eyes and fear runs up my spine. He’s angry and drunk. Not only are his eyes glossed over, but I can smell the liquor radiating from his breath. It’s like invisible smog of alcohol that surrounds him. I cringe at the reminder of my own father and muster up the courage to answer him.

             
“I’m not feeling well,” I respond quietly, in fear of him lashing out. He adjusts his stance so that both his hands are on the back of the couch and he leans in closer to me. His bare chest hovering closer than I would like as his hazy eyes look straight at me.

             
“Again?” he grits between his teeth.

             
I tuck the blanket under my chin. “My head has been hurting all day,” I whisper.

             
“Hmm… interesting. So, what did you do today? Did you go out?” he questions and I can tell he’s suspicious.

             
“Actually, I did. I went to the market and walked around a bit in hopes that the fresh air would help, but it didn’t.”

             
“You know what?” he raises an eyebrow.

             
“What?” I croak, not sure how much longer I can hold my composure in this conversation.

             
“I find it interesting how you’ve been frequenting the market more often than normal and coming home with nothing. I’m curious to know what it is you find so entertaining at the market.”

             
“It’s something for me to do during the day, Travis. In all honesty I get bored and at the market I’m able to spend hours looking at what people sale or just read by the fountain. I get tired of sitting here at the house.”

             
“Well, maybe I’ll have to take a day off and join you then. See what all the excitement is about,” he grits, and he doesn’t sound at all happy. He leans in grabbing my chin firmly in his hand and places a rough kiss on my lips. Not removing his mouth from mine he bites down on my bottom lip hard and I squeak in pain and squirm out of his grasp. Wiping my lips with the back of my hand, he has drawn blood and it’s already throbbing.

             
“What was that for?” I glare at him and immediately regret it when I see the look in his eyes. He’s too drunk to even think about what he’s doing.

             
“Don’t pull away from me, Bitch!” he growls and I close my eyes turning my head, but quickly he grabs me by my hair, forcing me to face him again. Still leaning on the back of the couch he gets his nose right up to mine. “Do not defy me, Stephanie. You’ll regret it,” he kisses me again, biting down even harder this time and I can feel the blood dripping down my chin but this time I keep quiet as tears trickle down my cheeks.

             
I oblige as he forces his tongue inside my mouth. His grip tightening on my hair. All I can do is pray he doesn’t fuck me, pray he doesn’t force me to touch him. I can’t do it. Not tonight and not when he’s like this. If he takes me right now, it will be for his pleasure only. I can see it in his eyes; all he cares about in this moment is himself and his power over me. I let him take my mouth, even though my lip is throbbing in pain.

             
Finally, he pulls away, releasing my hair and I allow my head to fall back against the pillow. “Tomorrow, Steph. Tomorrow I’ll be joining you at the market,” he states before turning, grabbing what looks like a glass of whiskey off the side table and walking back up stairs.

             
As soon as I hear his bedroom door shut, I jump up from the couch, rushing to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for my now painfully swollen lip. I promised to meet Eric tomorrow and I won’t dare contact him to change plans. I wouldn’t want Travis to catch me. As I face the fridge I place the freezing ice pack on my lips and jump as I feel two large hands grab my shoulders. I’m turned around unexpectedly and greeted by a furious Travis.

             
“Stephanie, I think you should leave your lip alone. A reminder let’s say of how you belong to me,” he whispers between his teeth and I bite my tongue holding back from screaming that I don’t belong to anyone. I don’t say anything though. If I lash out I know what will happen or at least what he’s capable of. After he hit me that night, I can’t trust his anger anymore.

             
He stands in front of me, unmoving and I’m afraid to even blink my eyes. I’m standing motionless, the ice pack in my hand as his grip is still on my shoulders. He grabs it from my hand tossing it to the sink and with him grabbing my waist he shoves me forward out of the kitchen and into the dining area, but I lose my balance and trip, landing hands first on the floor. My hair falls in front of my face and in shame I cry. I cry because too many times I found myself like this with my father. Too many times I’ve been beaten down to nothing, hating myself. Blaming myself for the way men have treated me. Blaming myself for the way my father treated me. Hating my mom for never standing up for me. I’m sick and tired of being the fucking punching bag of these assholes. I sit on my knees, wiping the tears from my face, standing to my feet and I turn to face him. I turn to face the man that I once saw as my savior. After Eric I saw him as the man that was the one I could trust. The one that loved me. Now I face him with hate in my eyes. Staring straight back at him with just as much anger. If I’m going to stay married to this man, I have to set him straight. He has to stop this bullshit.

             
“No more, Travis!” I scream, fists balled up at my side, tears running down my cheeks. “You’re supposed to love me! Why do you treat me like this?” I yell, all my emotions flooding out of me at once. His brown eyes wide and fixated on me as if I’m his target. As if I’m the buck he’s been trying to shoot down all season and is now staring it straight in the eyes with his riffle loaded. He takes a step in and automatically I step back.

             
“Please,” I plead, “don’t do this anymore. I love you, Travis. Love me back…the way you used to,” I croak between sobs and anger. Before I’m able to say anything else his hand collides with my cheek, knocking me back on my ass and I curl up on the floor holding my face.

             
“YOU FUCKING CUNT!” he screams, louder than I’ve ever heard him before and then a sharp horrible pain stabs through my side and I realize he’s kicked me; then again, and again. I curl up tighter into a ball, but the kicks keep coming. Then I hear this shrieking noise and realize the noise is coming from me.

             
Finally he stops, but the pain is so bad I can barely breathe. I feel his breath on the back of my neck, but I can’t move. I’m doing all I can to concentrate on getting oxygen.

             
“You will never stand up to me again, Stephanie. I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispers and then I hear him walk off, leaving me on the cold kitchen floor with my side and back throbbing in pain, my lip swollen and all I can do is curl in on myself and cry. I cry until there is nothing left inside of me, until he’s taken all my emotions, and the only noise escaping my lips are the short wheezing sounds of my breathing.

             
I’m not sure how long I lay on the floor, but when he doesn’t return and there’s nothing left inside of me, I slowly sit up to my knees, clenching my left side as the sharp pain gets worse. I struggle through it, using the kitchen island to pull myself up. I wasn’t expecting him to hit me. I wanted him to see how much I love him, how much I need him to be good to me. I can’t do this anymore. If I stay with him, he’ll end up killing me. If he can go from being prince charming, to verbally abusing me, and now physically abusing me in just two years, what will he do next? I can’t wait around to find out anymore.

             
I fumble my way back to the living room where I fall to the couch, grabbing my side as I groan from the pain. Pulling the blanket onto me I shut my eyes, picturing Eric; the love in his emerald green eyes, the sex appeal his messy blonde hair gives him and that smile, that smile that warms me from the inside. After everything with Travis I fall asleep smiling, dreaming of Eric.

***

Eric

I wait by the water fountain as we discussed yesterday when I dropped her off. I barely got any sleep last night and let’s just say that my time in the gym this morning was worthless. I was way too anxious to come meet her.
To get my hands on her again. I don’t know how many times I crawled out of bed, pacing the floor, wishing I could hear her voice or see her just for a moment. Something! I’m thankful that noon is finally here and she should be pulling up with her driver any moment. I insisted I pick her up, but she didn’t want to make a habit of it. She doesn’t want to get caught or have neighbors see her and become suspicious. Which I can understand, I just hate it though. I hate that she still goes home to him. I run a hand through my hair attempting to get those negative thoughts out of my head and then I see the black car pull up. The one that her driver drops her off in. I stand up from sitting on the bench and begin to take a step forward, but then I see him. I stop in my tracks, hands in my pockets and I take a step back.

A tall, dark haired male exits the vehicle and for a moment I think it’s not her car, but then I see her. I see her long lean legs step from the vehicle. She’s in shorts and a white shirt. Her sunglasses cover most her face. She has her head down and he takes her hand and helps her
, the rest of the way out. I cringe at the sight, balling my fists at my sides. This man has to be three times her size and he fucking hit her! It ignites the anger that is already lingering inside. I stay in my place though, only watching.

He places a hand around her waist, pulling her in close. Then he looks up, almost looking straight at me, and I see the asshole behind those dark eyes. I want nothing more than to beat this piece of shit to nothing. I take notice to his grip on her waist and how tightly he’s holding her. She’s slightly hunched over and walking slowly. To the bystander they may not notice, but I’m paying close attention to her every move and she appears to be in pain. She’s got one arm around her stomach holding her side, while he’s holding her back. He doesn’t necessarily seem concerned with her wellbeing, more just concerned that someone may notice.

I can feel the rage building inside of me. I can’t leave her with this man. I have to stay close. I watch them walk slowly pass several of the stands. She stops at a few pointing things out to him and he responds by nodding his head. No smile comes from either of their expressions. I hate seeing his hands on her. He doesn’t deserve to even stand next to her.

Even with her glasses covering her eyes, her casual clothes and her long auburn hair tied back into a bun, she still looks stunning. I fallow them, but keep my distance. When they stop at another table I begin to walk in
closer. Doing my best not to steal too many glances at them. Then I see it, her swollen lip.
Did he hit her? Is that why she can barely walk on her own?
Even with her makeup I can see her bottom lip is swollen and a little bruised.

Now I stare. I stand in place, hands in pocket, looking straight at her. I need her to see me. I’m sure she already has, but I need her to make eye contact. All she has to do is give me the okay and I’ll kill that mother-fucker right here. I’ll show him what it feels like to be beat on. She doesn’t though, she doesn’t even look my way and I know she’s doing it on purpose. She doesn’t want him to be suspicious. She’s scared of him and I can see it in the way she’s carrying herself. Her head lowered, looking towards the ground as if in obedience.