Conviction(36)

“That’s okay. Congratulations.”

He shakes his head, still trying to focus on me. “No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nina.”

I move down the stairs toward him. The lamp on the hall table is on and I can see how glazed over his blue eyes look.

“You coming to bed?”

He closes his eyes for a long moment, then holds his hand out to me. I move further down the stairs and take it. He pulls me into his lap and kisses me with more passion than he’s ever shown in our entire marriage. My body responds instantly. My nipples harden and I moan into his mouth while my hands rake through his hair. He pulls away and looks down at me.

“I do love you, Nina.” I’ve waited so long to hear him say those words like he means them and I want so desperately for my belly to do back flips and my heart rate to increase. I want my heart and my insides to react the same way that my body does. But what my body wants is sex. It would react this way to anyone that kissed me the way he just did. What my heart and my soul want, need, is so much more.

“That’s good to hear,” is all I can manage to say. He tries to stand up while still holding on to me, but he’s too drunk. I slide to the floor and walk up behind him, worried in case he might fall backward. Not that I could do a lot if he did. He’s almost six feet tall and I’m only just five.

When we get to our room, he flops down onto the edge of the bed and I take his shoes and socks off for him. I pull his shirt over his head, then push him back so I can undo his suit trousers. I pull them down and over his hips. I go to reach for his boxers, but he grabs my wrist.

“Come here,” he says. I straddle him as his legs hang over the side of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor. He pulls my vest up and takes my nipple in his mouth and bites it, hard, too hard.

“Oww,” I protest. Suddenly his hand has wrapped around my hair and he pulls at it roughly while flipping me over onto my back. He grabs my face between his thumb and fingers and forces me to look at him.

“Don’t make out. You like it rough. I know you like it rough.”

What the f*ck? He’s never said things like this to me before and he’s never behaved like this either. He lets go of my hair and my face. Despite his drunken state, he manages to free himself from his boxers and pull my knickers to one side. Without any kind of foreplay, he tries to push inside me. He’s not fully hard and because I’m not wet, it’s painful and I let out a little yelp.

“Don’t Nina, just don’t. I know you like it rough. I know it,” he says through gritted teeth. He grabs my face again and stares angrily into my eyes.

“Is this how he f*cked you? Is it?”

I don’t know this person, I’ve never seen Marcus like this. My heart is racing now, but for all the wrong reasons. His mouth smashes down on mine and he bites down on my bottom lip. I start to panic and dig my heels into the mattress, trying to push my way up the bed, trying to escape. He grabs me by the throat and squeezes, hard.

“Don’t you f*cking dare, don’t you ever try and run away from me. You f*cking stay here and you take it. You take what I’m giving you, you little slut.”

He’s fully hard now and has no trouble forcing himself inside me. I cry out in pain at the stinging and burning sensation. Marcus isn’t that big, but my muscles are clenched tight and the intrusion unwelcome. I start to cry. I’m angry more than anything, but also humiliated.

“Marcus, please, what are…? Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t Nina. Just stop pretending you don’t love this. Is this how he f*cked you? Is this how you got f*cked by your rock star bit of rough?”

“Oh my God, why are you saying this? What the f*ck is wrong with you, Marcus?”

“Shut up! Shut up! Just shut the f*ck up and take it,” he shouts. Spit is frothing at the corners of his mouth and hanging from the middle of his lip. I try desperately to get away from him, but start to see stars as he squeezes my throat tighter. I make one last ditch attempt to buck him off me and push him away. I give it everything, pulling at his hair, trying to claw at his face. He grips my wrists in his hands, holding them still at the side of my head. I try to roll from side to side. Panic kicking in. This isn’t happening, my husband wouldn’t do this to me. I lean forward and bite down on his shoulder. He stops his brutal thrusts, that drive him deeper inside of me and I think it’s all over until his fist comes down viciously and he punches me in the jaw.

My head spins, but I don’t pass out. I stop fighting and lay completely still apart from the heaving of my chest. He thrusts a few more times, grunts, then stills.

I can taste blood in my mouth where I must’ve bit my tongue or my cheek. I remain motionless for a few more moments, trying to gather my thoughts. I open my eyes when I hear Marcus start to snore, his weight pressing down on me. I move my hand to cover my mouth before a sob can escape and wake him.

It takes a few attempts, but I eventually manage to manoeuvre myself out from underneath him. I leave him, snoring, face down on the bed and head for the bathroom down the hallway. I turn on the shower, step inside and cry like I’ve never cried before. I cry not for what happened, but for every day I’ve spent wasting away in this miserable marriage.

My mind is racing. I just can’t make sense of what’s just happened. What would force him to behave like that? What could’ve happened? And whatever it was, nothing justifies him treating me like that.