Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“That’s it, baby, come for me,” he said.
Clarissa’s gaze fell on him, and he felt the change within her as her pussy tightened around his fingers, and he kept stroking her clit.
She came, and he felt the tightness of her pussy as it contracted around his fingers. He was amazed at how she felt, and how she came apart. It was beautiful, and he knew it was something he had never seen before.
When she couldn’t take much more, he let go and cupped her face, kissing her.
“What happened?” Clarissa asked, a little breathlessly.
“An orgasm. You had an orgasm. You’ve never felt that way before?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m a fucking shitty husband.”
“What?” Clarissa asked.
“I should have taken the time to get to know you, to explore you, to allow you to feel this way, and I didn’t, and that is on me.”
“Don’t,” she said. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not fucking okay. I’m the husband here. I’m the one that should have known.”
And he was ashamed. He had fucked up.
The horrible truth was, prior to him consummating his wedding night, his dad had told him it was his duty to have a child. It was nonstop how important it was for Clarissa to be with child. Rather than love his new bride, he’d treated it as a duty. He allowed his father to rule his fucking head.
Lorenzo got up and without a word, he walked away from Clarissa.
Chapter Eight
The old Clarissa would run away to her sewing room and lock herself inside until she was able to deal with what happened.
That was the old Clarissa, the one who didn’t want to deal with conflict. She wasn’t the same person. In that moment, she realized she had changed in a very short amount of time, because Lorenzo had proven he wasn’t an asshole. At least, prior to this moment, he had proven he wasn’t an asshole.
There was no way he could have gone far, seeing as his clothes were still on the floor. He might be comfortable walking around their heavily guarded home completely naked, but she had some reservations.
Securing a robe, she wrapped it around herself and tied the belt before making her way out of her bedroom. She heard the sound of glass, and she knew exactly where he had gone—his office—it was where he went whenever he was in a mood.
Clarissa went to the office, and sure enough, there he stood, complete with a glass of whiskey in his hand, and he looked like he’d just received the worst news in the world.
“Do you want to tell me what I’ve done that is so bad?”
This is completely out of character for her.
Is it? Really?
She couldn’t help but imagine her sister’s voice. For a second, Clarissa just stood there, looking across at her husband, as she thought about how pissed off her sister would be at the life she’d lived. The fact she would lock herself away and refuse to speak. She became a shell of her former self. She allowed herself to be controlled and manipulated.
Lorenzo turned to look at her, and she noticed his cock had lost its arousal. He was flaccid.
“This is not about you. You can go and do whatever you want. I’ll see you in a bit.”
The old Clarissa would turn on her heel, go and sulk back into her sewing room, and not give this another thought. That was the Clarissa that didn’t want to make waves or be a nuisance. The same woman who was afraid of losing everything. Clarissa knew what it was like to lose everything, and she also knew what it was like to be pushed aside by Lorenzo, as well as treated like a friend. She was not going to allow herself to be pushed into a corner.
“No,” Clarissa said. “Giving me an orgasm pushes you to drink, is that it?”
She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Inside, there was a part of her telling her to go back to her sewing room, because this was not her place. She needed to retreat.
Lorenzo turned toward her, and she saw she’d surprised him.
If he hurt her, she would need to know that now. Although, he had never so much as raised a fist to her.
“What?” he asked.
“You give me my very first orgasm, which is what I assume I just experienced besides you telling me, and now you’re drinking. I think it is a fair assessment to say my arousal pushes you to drink?” she asked.
Her heart raced. It was the first time she had stood up to fight for herself, and she squared her shoulders and looked right at him.
“Why are you angry?” he asked.
Was he expecting her to step down? To not take him to task about what happened. She was not going to back down. Not now, not ever. She glared at him.