Drugged His Partner to Claim Me - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Ethan's face swam in my vision, doubling and blurring until the room spun. The constant motion grated on my nerves.
I grabbed his cheeks with both hands, my words slurring. "Stop moving."
He laughed but obeyed, his fingers working the buttons of my dress with practiced ease. Gently, as if guiding a sleepy child, he coaxed my arms up.
The lace dress slipped to the floor—just as a wave of nausea crashed over me.
I shoved Ethan away and bolted for the bathroom. He followed, hovering behind me as I retched into the toilet.
Kneeling there, I waited, terrified another wave would hit. Ethan stayed silent, his presence steady.
Over an hour later, the sickness finally passed. I dragged myself back to bed, my head clearer now. We stared at each other, the silence between us thick with unspoken regret.
I shouldn't have drunk so much. Nerves had pushed me over the edge, and now my recklessness had ruined everything.
Just as the tension became unbearable, a sound sliced through the quiet—the unmistakable click of the front door unlocking.
My blood turned to ice.
My husband.
Before we could react, the door swung open.
Adrenaline burned through the last haze of alcohol. Footsteps approached. Ethan had no choice—he dove under the bed just as the bedroom door creaked open.
I threw myself onto the mattress, feigning sleep.
My husband stepped inside, saw me "asleep," and quietly set his things down before heading to the shower.
Under the bed, Ethan didn't dare move. One wrong sound would destroy us both.
When my husband returned, he climbed onto the bed and reached for me. I pretended to stir, blinking up at him with exaggerated grogginess.
"Surprise, darling!" he said, grinning.
I forced a yawn. "You're back? Let's just sleep. I'm exhausted."
I turned away, but he grabbed my shoulder, flipping me onto my back with rough hands.
"Not tonight," I said flatly. "I'm on my period."
His smile faltered. But frustration won out. "Then help me another way," he begged, voice tight. "I can't take it anymore."
I shut my eyes and stayed silent.
Undeterred, he shoved down his pants, gripped himself, and yanked me toward him. In seconds, he forced himself between my lips.
"Please," he panted, already thrusting. "Just like this. I need it."
I went limp, eyes sealed shut. It took less than five minutes before he groaned and spilled into my mouth.
Shoving him off, I sprinted to the bathroom, vomiting everything out. Mouthwash scorched my throat as I scrubbed my tongue raw.
By the time I returned, he was snoring like a chainsaw.
I nudged the bed frame urgently. "Ethan. Come out."