Текст книги "Arsen: a broken love story"

Автор книги: Mia Asher

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

The blonde girl extends her long and pretty hand first. How I hate her hand.

“Hi! My name is Jillian, but you can call me Jill. And this,” her free hand settles in the center of Arsen’s solid chest, “is Arsen Radcliff. A close family friend.” Her stupid face lights up when Arsen smiles down at her. Fisting my hands so hard I can feel my nails breaking through skin, I fight a visceral reaction taking over me. I want to slap the smile clean off her face.

He is mine.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Ben’s grip is now so painful, I can feel myself growing numb around my waist.

“Jill, it’s alright. I already know the Stanwood’s. Catherine,” Arsen’s raspy voice emphasizes my name, “worked for my dad. I trained under her tutelage until I decided I didn’t give a shit anymore.” Blushing by his words, I observe as Arsen addresses Alan and Loretta, a smirk on his lips. “I hope I haven’t offended you, Uncle Al.” He turns to look at the regal woman standing next to him. “And Aunt Lo, you know I mean no disrespect. Ahh…I hear the band playing in the ballroom.”

Lifting Jillian’s hand to his lips, he places a soft kiss on her palm and drops it in the air. “Gorgeous, would you mind if I took a turn around the dance floor with the lovely Mrs. Stanwood? It’s been a while since I saw her last,” Arsen says sarcastically.

Arsen addresses Ben, without looking at me. “Would you mind if I stole your wife, Ben? You know, for just a little while?”

I wince when I listen to his blatant lies and innuendos, blushing with the color of shame. Ben’s jaw tightens as the thick veins on his neck appear before answering Arsen. “If Cathy wants to, I don’t mind.”

When he pins me with his pleading gaze, Ben’s cool façade chips a fraction, allowing me see the vulnerability behind his act tonight. His eyes beg me not to go. Not to leave with Arsen. To stay with him.

Please. Please. Please, don’t go with him. Stay with me.

The thing about being selfish is that you don’t care if someone is at your feet begging you to stay with him, offering you the world, his heart and soul. It doesn’t matter. You’ll do whatever you want to do. What you need to do for yourself. Nothing matters but what you want. What you think you need.

I want to be selfish.

I want to be careless.

I’m past feeling guilty.

I’m completely and utterly out of my mind because of a man and I don’t care. I’m like a heroine addict going through withdrawals. I must have Arsen.

And I’m angry.

I’m angry because that slut is here with him and not me.

Without looking at Ben, I pull myself away from his hold and take Arsen’s hand in mine, accepting his offer to dance.

Slipping.

I’m slipping away slowly from Ben and his hold on me.

“Yes. I would love to.”

Odd. Somehow my voice sounds clear and calm, not giving away the raging storm brewing inside me.

I let go of Arsen’s hand once we begin to move away from the group and head towards the ballroom. I never look back, even though a big part of me wants to, the part that knows how much I still love Ben, the part that hasn’t allowed fucking to cloud her judgment.

But I don’t.

And I know I should have.

Arsen leans down to murmur angrily in my ear. The breath escaping through his mask makes the flyaway hair on my neck tickle my exposed skin as his voice sends shivers running down my spine. The closeness of our bodies ignites my body with need once more.

“Is Ben in some kind of fucking denial? You just eye fucked me in front of him and a shitload of people, then agreed to walk away with me for a dance, and he still doesn’t do anything. Is the guy fucking blind?” he growls.

“How dare you?” I hiss.

“How dare I what? Speak the truth? Insult your husband? Ignore your pathetic calls and then show my fucking face at this party with a date? What is it, Dimples? Give me your fucking best.”

I can’t continue listening to him without either breaking down and crying in the middle of the dance floor or slapping him across the face, gathering unwanted attention towards us. I push his hand away forcefully, leaving Arsen at the entrance of the ballroom as I go in search of a place where I can be alone and calm down.

Finding a small room that is clearly not intended for guests’ use, I walk in and when I’m about to shut the door behind me Arsen appears out of nowhere, pushing me further into the unlit room as he shuts us both inside.

“What the hell are you doing here? Someone may have seen you follow me. There will be gossip!” I protest.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunts me. “Seeing me with someone else? Ignoring your phone calls because I’m too fucking busy with real life to deal with a fuck buddy? Now you know what it’s like to not be wanted.”

“I never said I didn’t want you!” I yell.

“Yes, you did.” Taking his mask off and throwing it on the floor, I watch him run a hand through his blond hair. “You told me not to push you. That you love your husband, and you gave me the sorriest excuse that I’ve ever heard…to give you fucking time. But you know what, Catherine?” he says, an ugly smile plastered on his achingly perfect face, “I’m okay with your shit, but don’t expect me to wait back at my apartment for you to call me whenever you’re bored. You get to go back to your husband and play house with him, so why the fuck shouldn’t I enjoy some pussy on the side? Oh, wait, no...I’ve got it.” He smacks his forehead, “You’re the pussy on the side, right?”

I slap him across the face. My stinging hand hurts just as much as I hurt on the inside. His cruel words are like a dagger to my heart because they are true.

“H-how dare you!” I’m trembling in anger.

Laughing Arsen, shrugs.

“I hate you. I hate you. Do you hear me?” The words are torn from my chest, but I can’t stop myself from repeating them. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Fisting my hands on my sides, I want to kick him, scratch him, bite him; whatever I can do to cause him pain. I want him to feel my pain. I want him to hurt just as he’s making me hurt.

“So what?” he asks nonchalantly.

As I watch Arsen shrug his shoulder carelessly once more, something inside me snaps. I lunge toward him and start slapping, biting, kicking…whatever I can do to hurt him.

“YOU’RE SUCH A FUCKING ASS—”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He yells back at me as he grabs my hands forcefully and turns our bodies, pushing me against the wall.

Our chests rise and fall, breathing heavily as we stare at each other. The want, anger, and need reflected in his eyes make me want to fuck him, right here, right now. But instead, I murmur defeated, “Let go of me…I need to get back to Ben. We’re done.”

Arsen lets go of my arms to urgently lift my ass in his hands, pushing our bodies closer against each other as he growls in my ear, “No. Never. You’re mine. All fucking mine.”

As panic rises inside me, a surge of desire so strong, I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything but feel, rushes over me. I need Arsen in my body. I need to feel his dick sliding in and out of me. I want him to fuck me hard. Surrendering, I wrap my legs around his waist and let him do whatever he wants with me.

I am his.

He kisses my neck, then pushes a hand inside my thong. I gasp when his fingers slide inside me, searching me, stroking me as I pulsate with want for him.

“Arsen…” I whimper as I tilt my head back not caring that we could get caught. Not caring that Ben could be looking for me at this moment.

His mouth crushes mine as waves of heat and sensation crash down over us, washing the despair and shame I feel away. I kiss him back and open my mouth and legs wider for him. I can feel his erection as he grinds himself against me. Losing myself in the depths of his eyes, I hear the sound of his zipper sliding down, and of silk being torn.

One hard thrust and he’s inside me. Entering me deeply, roughly, yet gently, filling me completely. Lifting my ass higher with his hands, he leans his forehead against mine as sweat begins to cover our bodies.

“I can’t, I can’t. I thought I could share you, but I can’t. Please…leave him. I need you, and I know you need me too. You need me. Be mine...” he says gruffly.

Thrust.

“I’m yours. I’m yours,” I reverberate.

Thrust.

“I can’t share you. Seeing you with him is fucking breaking me. It’s breaking me.” His voice is husky with passion.

Thrust.

“Leave him. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I can’t keep sharing you.”

Thrust.

“Yes, I’ll do it.”

Thrust.

“When?”

Thrust.

“Tonight.”

Arsen curses fiercely into the curve of my neck, thrusting faster, harder, driving us closer to our climax.

“I can feel you shaking…fuck...your pussy is so fucking tight…hell, you’re so close. Look at me, Dimples. I want to watch your eyes when you come.”

He puts his lips next to my ear and whispers hoarsely, “Come for me, Catherine, come for me. Now.”

I explode, losing myself in the blue sea of his eyes. Arsen kisses me, smothering my cries with his mouth as he begins to slide out of me like he always does. I’m not sure if it’s me tightening the grip of my legs on his hips, or just getting lost in the heat of the moment, but instead of withdrawing he pushes himself deeper into me, coming inside as his large body vibrates fiercely with the power of his climax.

After a couple minutes pass and our breathing evens out, Arsen pulls out of me, making me flinch as his softening erection leaves my sore body. He zips his pants up while staring at me.

Without saying a word, Arsen hands me a tissue to clean myself up as the skirt of my dress falls from my waist down to the floor in a river of black silk. In a daze, I can barely manage to look at him as I clean the sticky liquid in between my thighs.

Once I’m done, Arsen takes the tissue from my hand, walks to the garbage can and throws it away for me. As he makes his way back, he spots my thong on the floor. Thinking that he’s going to discard it himself, I’m surprised when Arsen picks it up and tucks it inside his jacket instead.

“Let’s go back before people start wondering where the fuck we are. But, Dimples, as you walk back to meet Ben I want you to remember what you said to me.” Stepping closer to me, he wraps my hair in his hand, giving it a tug so that I’m staring at him. “When you go back to him, remember that I am inside you…that you belong to me.”

I leave before him while he waits inside the room so that we don’t raise any suspicion. My legs are shaking from the hard grip I had on his hips as I make my way back to Ben. I am trembling and so ashamed. I can’t believe I just let Arsen screw me against someone’s door while my husband is in the same building, and not once did I think about him. Not once. Not even as I was coming and saw fucking stars. As guilt tries to take over me, I try not to think of what just happened, pretending like it never did.

When I return to the main room, Ben immediately spots me walking towards him. At first he looks angry as he scans my countenance from afar, but by the time I reach him all I can see is sadness in his eyes.

Such despairing sadness.The eyes that used to shine so bright with love now look empty and drained. Lifeless.

When Ben lifts a hand, I instantly assume that he’s going to take mine in his, but instead, it goes to his front pocket. Retrieving a handkerchief, he hands it to me.

“Your lipstick is smudged,” Ben says quietly.

As I look at Ben’s eyes filled with such raw pain, I think that I shouldn’t be here. Not after what happened last night. I should have gone to a hotel and spent the night there.

My mind is a cluster fuck of thoughts, so many of them swimming through my head not letting me be at peace. But I guess I don’t deserve peace, right? A lying, cheating, and deceitful woman like me should suffer.

Oh my God. What have I done?

This is over.

But it has been for a while.

Since the first time I went back to Arsen’s place.

Oh, Ben.

Ben and I are over.

My marriage is over.

I did this.

I did.

Can you be physically ill from a broken heart?

Because it hurts. So much.

I feel dirty.

Worthless.

I don’t deserve to feel pain, though. I don’t deserve the tears that are beginning to form in my eyes. I don’t deserve him. But after today he will be free of me. He will be free of me once he knows the truth.

What have I done? Shortly after I return from having fucked Arsen against the wall, the soreness between my legs proof enough, Ben decides he’s had enough of the party and that it’s time to leave. As we are saying our goodbyes, someone disguised as a lion approaches us needing to speak to him about work. Excusing himself, Ben follows lion man and gets lost in a sea of masked strangers.

Feeling a strong hand wrap around my elbow, Arsen whispers in my ear, “Don’t go back with him. End it now. Come back with me. Call him on our way to my apartment. Just don’t go back with him,” he pleads with ferocity.

I shake my head and pull myself away from his hold. “I have to. I need to end it the right way, Arsen. Not that there’s a right way to do this. Now, please, stop it. I told you already that I’m leaving him, but you’ve got to let me do this in my own way. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

If Arsen in his jealousy thinks that my going back home with Ben means that something is going to happen, he is insane. I can still smell him on my skin, on my clothes, taste the cigarette he had smoked before…Arsen is everywhere.

He is on me.

Inside me.

Around me.

I know I have to go home and somehow manage to come clean with Ben. My sweet, sweet husband. He deserves to know the truth. He deserves to know how the woman he claims to know and love, has been fucking a younger man for a while now, loves it, and doesn’t plan on stopping.

I need to get out of here.

When Ben sees me walking towards him, he stands up. Frowning, he watches my clothes, my hair, my every move. It makes me think that he already knows.

Good. I want to get things over with.

I’m about to ask if he is ready to leave, but his empty eyes rob me of words. I wonder how much he knows, and if he will hate me once he learns the truth.

There are two warring parts of me in this whole fiasco. The one who wants to do right by Ben, and the selfish one who just doesn’t care anymore. The Cathy who loves him wants to take him in her arms and beg for forgiveness, promising him that it meant nothing.

But that’s the thing…

It isn’t about the thrill anymore, the high Arsen makes me feel whenever he makes me come, or the numbness he provides me. Now it means something.

We ride together in the car in silence. He has an arm around my shoulders for the entire ride, sometimes leaning his cheek on top of my head, sometimes kissing my hair, inhaling the smell of it…I want to drown in the current of tenderness flowing between us, but what if he can smell Arsen on me?

I keep my head reclined on his shoulders with our hands linked together. It is uncomfortable with the console between us, but that is the last thing on my mind—I just need to feel him close. Looking at our hands intertwined makes me feel as if I am being sucked into a black hole of sorrow and pain. I know with certainty that this is going to be the last time Ben and I ride in his car together like this.

I lift my head and look out the window for a moment. The moon looks red tonight. Beautiful.

By the time we are home, our masks long gone, I’m about to tell Ben that I am going to take a shower, when he takes my hand in his and makes me follow him to the kitchen without saying one word. After turning the lights on, he lowers his body and embraces me in a hug so fierce in its nature that it leaves me breathless and a little shaken. When he opens his eyes to look down at me, he shatters me.

“How about a glass of wine?” he asks softly, smiling sadly at me.

I can’t do this tonight. I can’t do this to Ben. But I already have. Returning the hug, I stand on my tip-toes and kiss his chin as I feel a full blown panic attack coming on. I can do this. Just don’t think about it. Talk to him tomorrow.

“Would you mind if I shower first?” I need to take a shower and wash Arsen off. Will the guilt of what I have done wash off too? I doubt it.

When I’m out of the shower, Ben has changed into sweats and a Columbia t-shirt and is cooking something.

“Dinner?” I ask.

“Yes, I’m starving. I don’t understand how people expect men my size to be satisfied with hors d’oeuvres. It boggles my mind.”

Ben and I hardly speak through our late meal, but I don’t mind the silence. The last thing I want to do in what will be our last night together is make small talk. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to drink the wine he served me. I just want to watch him. Memorize the patterns of his dark stubble, the way his dimple peeks at me every time he chews, begging me to kiss it.

After I help Ben remove the dishes from the table, I start to wash them. The hot water burning my hands is a welcome relief. Nothing like physical pain to numb you. The haunting voice of a man singing about how he can’t take his eyes off of his lover envelops the whole kitchen. I close my eyes and get lost in the singer’s melancholy voice telling his lover that without love there is no glory.

With a knot in the back of my throat, I feel Ben’s warm arms wrap around my waist from behind. Letting go of the dish, and wiping the soap on my yoga pants, I bring one hand behind his neck, pulling his face closer to the curve of my neck as my other hand rests on top of his on my stomach. With my back against his front, we sway to the gentle rhythm of the music…slowly…tenderly. Ben kisses my neck, my hair, behind my ear, showering me with kisses that feel final.

The knot in my throat keeps getting bigger and bigger until tears fall down my cheeks. Treacherous tears. I don’t know if Ben sees them. I don’t care. I just want to get lost in his touch, in his warmth, in him for one last time.

When the song ends, I turn around as Ben lets go of my body. Bending down, he lifts me with ease into his arms. Saying nothing to each other, I put my arms around his neck, and rest my head on his shoulder as I inhale deeply into my lungs, trying to absorb his smell. As he carries me, I can hear his breathing accelerating, becoming strained, and somehow I know it isn’t because of my weight.

He can feel it too.

Our last night.

Our grand finale.

I want to say something, but I can’t find the right words.

It isn’t until we make it to our bedroom, and he places me tenderly on the bed, that I know I have to stop whatever is about to happen.

But I can’t…

And not because I care that Ben may erase Arsen from my body. I don’t fucking care about Arsen at this moment. I can’t do it because I don’t want to sully Ben with my body. I don’t want our last time together to be the day I let someone else come inside me while panting his name in an empty room.

Slowly, Ben removes our clothes until there’s nothing left between us.

“So beautiful…” he whispers hoarsely as he runs a hand over my breasts. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

I’m about to stop Ben when he leans over me. What I see punches me in the gut, leaving me speechless. Taking my hands in his hold and looking down at me, I see the glimmer of tears in his eyes as he whispers against my mouth, “Please, Cathy…not tonight. Not tonight. Let us…let me just kiss you.”

He kisses my tears away, licking them off my face and swallowing them as if they are his own.

“It’s always been you, Ben…” I choke as deep emotion overpowers me. I want to tell him that it will continue to be him forever, but that would be a lie.

Ben lowers his forehead to press against mine. I feel the moisture from his tears, my tears, our tears. Together.

“I don’t want tomorrow to fucking come, Cathy. I’m afraid.” His voice is hoarse with pain as he pleads. He bends down to kiss my lips, my eyes, my temples, my nose. I try doing the same as my arms and legs wrap fiercely around his body. I want to consume him, absorb his body in mine and keep him that way. Just the two of us, filling each other, surrounding each other.

Holding both my hands over my head, he looks down at me as he slowly and gently slides inside me. He looks so lost, so hurt, so vulnerable…it is so tender, so sweet, and so painful. Our emotions guide us through the dance of two bodies trying to communicate at their most honest, vulnerable, basic, and raw moments together what they can’t with words.

I love you.

Please forgive me.

Don’t leave me.

How could you.

I hate you.

I love you.

I will fucking die without you.

You are mine.

Only mine.

I belong to you.

Only you.

It is beautiful. It is soul shattering. It is good-bye.

Late Sunday morning. I watch as my husband’s large and powerful body falls to the ground in surrender.

Broken…by me.

“I fucked Arsen,” I tell him quietly.