61

Cara
I wake up feeling refreshed and happy. There’s a pleasant glow that hangs around for a while after a night of really good sex-and last night was really good. I’m guessing my post-orgasm floaty-feeling is going to last all day, and if I’m lucky, Eros might keep that going into tomorrow.
Except he’s not in bed with me. I touch his pillow-it’s cold. Which means he must’ve left a while ago. That man works too damn much.
I close my eyes, smiling slightly, unwilling to let this little wrinkle ruin my solid vibes.
Last night was absolutely fantastic. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to treat me like this wife. That beast was absolutely insatiable in a way he hadn’t been before. It was like one taste and he needed to devour me, toes to teeth. Orgasm after orgasm for both of us, and when I thought he was through, his cock somehow got hard again and he was fucking me into sweet oblivion.
I yawn and stretch. Some men are freaks of nature. Eros might be a sex freak of nature. It shouldn’t be physically possible, the stamina that man possesses. But then again, I can’t complain. There’s a dull ache between my legs and I’m tired. I’ll pay for that good time, but heck, I’d gladly pay that price a thousand times over.
I just wish he hadn’t left early.
But I understand. I got the sense something big happened with the war that he didn’t want to talk about. I don’t know what that means for me-if Christopher is dead, or if he’s on the run, or if the entire Pavone Famiglia is destroyed, or what-but I figure I’ll find out soon.
I close my eyes and think about drifting off for a little longer. It’s not like I have anything to do. I’m not going into the diner until all my troubles are ironed out, which means the only thing I have in abundance is time.
Eros’s smell, his taste, the blissful feeling of him between my legs, it lingers in the air. I breathe deep, in and out, nice and slow, my hands sliding between my thighs. I don’t know what’s coming over me, but I’m fucking horny. I wiggle my hips as I think about what he did to me-tongue, hands, cock, spit and cum-and gently tease myself. “Eros,” I whisper, loving the sound of his name on my lips. “Eros, Eros.”
A door opens in the other room. It bangs against the wall like someone threw it wide. I stop, eyes popping open. A little smile flits across my lips. Footsteps coming toward me. The only person that would barge in like that is my husband, my very filthy, very doting husband. Lucky for him, I’m in a good mood. I wriggle slightly, grinning now. I wonder if I can seduce him, maybe get a little morning sex going.
I yank down my tank top and push up my tits. I think about fixing my hair, but hell, Eros doesn’t care about that. I’m blinking, sleepy and already turned on, when the door to the room opens.
And Sophia steps inside.
“What the fuck-” I say, sitting up and grabbing a pillow.
She closes the door behind her. The lock clicks into place.
Terror rips into my chest. What the hell is happening right now? How is she in here? Shouldn’t there be guards, alarms, something, anything?
She turns to face me, a wicked smile on her lips.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, looking around the room for something I can use.
A weapon.
Sophia’s in athletic clothes. Tight running top, yoga pants, and sneakers. She’s got a hat on, pulled down low over her face, and her hair is piled on her head, hidden under the cap. She comes closer, hands balled into fists.
“Do you have any idea what’s going to happen now?” she asks, speaking quietly. “Now that they’re dead? Now that your piece-of-shit husband is going to win the war?”
My brain races, trying to understand what’s happening here. “Sophia, I have no clue what you’re talking about, but we can figure it out together.”
“I don’t think so.” She walks to the foot of the bed. “I was thinking about you, Cara, about what you said to me in the garden about leaving. This morning I woke up and I thought to myself, I can run away, just like she did. I can run and never look back. I’d be happy, if only I could start over. If only I could forget about my murdered father and my murdered brother. If only I could be more like you.”
“It’s not too late for that,” I say, glancing to the side. If I grab the lamp, maybe I can use it to bash her in the face. There’s nothing in the nightstand, no guns, no knives, nothing like that. Eros said he’s all the protection I need.
Where’s my husband? Where are my guards?
“I can’t let it go.” She comes toward me fast, crossing the distance to the side of the bed. I try to crawl away, throwing myself onto Eros’s side, but she grabs my ankle and punches me hard in the back of the thigh. I grunt in pain and kick out, my heel connecting with her chest enough to shove her back. I roll forward and hit the floor, toppling back awkwardly, pinned against the wall, the bed between us.
My heart races wildly as I struggle to right myself. Fuck, fuck, what is she doing? What is she going to do to me? This is insane, I never imagined Sophia would do something like this and now, fuck, she’s coming.
She’s grinning as she walks toward me, and I realize I’m trapped.
“This is insane,” I say. “My guards are going to come the second I scream.”
“No, they won’t, because your husband sent them away, and he’s too busy getting you breakfast right now. Your loving, doting husband. Do you two even care about each other? Is anything between you real? Actually, don’t answer, because I don’t care. I’m going to hurt you the way he hurt me, and maybe that’ll teach him something. Then I suppose I’ll have to leave the city.”
She comes for me, running fast around the bed. I dive onto the mattress and scramble across, but she fakes me out. She leaps at me, and I kick again, trying to catch her, but she knocks my ankles aside as she slams an elbow down into my chest.
I grunt in agony as she pummels me hard. I try punching, scratching, I flail and finally a scream rips from my throat. I scream loud, as loud as I can, as Sophia hits me again and again in the face and arms and chest. Clearly someone taught her how to fight because each punch lands like a thunderclap, each one bringing fresh waves of pain. I can’t think, can’t move, I’m curled up in a ball trying to survive like I used to survive with Christopher. Go limp, don’t fight back, she’ll work it out of her system soon enough. Just survive, survive, keep breathing, survive-
But she’s not my ex-husband, and I don’t understand why she’s really here until she grabs a pillow and shoves it down over my face.
I thrash, trying to wrench it off. Everything’s muted, like it’s happening from a distance. She has her knees on me, digging into my guts and my chest, and she’s putting all her weight down on the pillow, on Eros’s big memory foam pillow. It sucks into my mouth, into my nose, forming into my face, cutting off my air.
I can’t breathe. I can’t scream. I can’t stop her.
But I hear her, from a distance.
“This isn’t the revenge I wanted. This isn’t even close to what I wanted. I dreamed of Eros’s head on a spike, but I’ll settle for murdering his wife.”
I want to beg her to stop. Black and white spots form in the corners of my vision. I can’t see anything but the pillow and some shadows. I’m kicking, punching, trying to dig my fingers into her, but with each passing second my strength slowly gives out.
I’m dying.
Fuck, I need to breathe. I need to breathe so bad, it’s tearing into my chest. I want to scream, cry, do something.
I’m desperate, heart pounding in my ears.
I’m dying. I’m dying.
I’m going to die, right here in the bed.
“You never should’ve come here,” Sophia says, her voice sounding closer, like she’s leaning down to speak right into my ear. “And now you’re dead, you fucking bitch. I hope it breaks Eros. I hope he kills himself after this.”
No, god, no, please, no, I survived Christopher.
I survived my abuser!
How can I die like this, in a strange bed, in a strange man’s room, alone? With this woman shoving a pillow over my face? How is this happening? I suffered so much, I took my beatings, I did everything right, I got away.
I survived!
How am I going to die now, after everything?