The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
You are reading The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage.
Dinner was impossible. Stuck with that disgusting old man lurking around, I had no choice but to barricade myself in my room, seething. When Ethan finally got home and asked what was wrong, the truth stuck in my throat. Instead, I lied—told him I'd sliced my hand and couldn't cook.
He pressed a kiss to my cheek, fingers brushing through my hair. "Then rest, sweetheart. I'll take care of dinner tonight."
Watching him like this—so gentle, so oblivious—made my chest ache. How was I supposed to tell him what that creep had done?
At the table, Ethan kept refilling Harold's glass, nudging me to join. With Ethan there, the old man played nice—mostly. I forced down two drinks, my skin crawling.
What I didn't get was why Ethan was suddenly so chummy with him. After dinner, Harold made a half-hearted show of leaving, but Ethan practically begged him to stay. Before I knew it, he was settling into the guest room.
Later, in bed, Ethan casually suggested extending Harold's visit. My jaw clenched. Fine. I spat out what happened in the kitchen—though I couldn't bring myself to mention the elevator.
Ethan just laughed it off. "Oh, he already told me—just a misunderstanding."
Rage burned through me. I opened my mouth to argue, but Ethan cut me off with a kiss, his voice low. "Be good for me, yeah? I'm in the mood tonight. Let's try again?"
One wrong word, and he'd crumble—back to that pit of self-loathing. So I bit my tongue, letting him peel off my clothes.
His hands were everywhere, his mouth hot and insistent, driving me to the edge. But like always, his pathetic little cock just flopped between my thighs, useless no matter how hard he ground against me.
Finally, he collapsed beside me, silent and defeated, while I lay there burning, my mind racing with fantasies—anything to fill the ache.
Another sleepless night. But by now, I was used to it. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for a dream where Ethan was the man I needed.
And I got it.
In the dream, he was powerful—his body pinning me down, my legs hooked over his shoulders. His cock, finally hard and thick, pressed against me, ready to take what he wanted.
I moaned his name, begging. But then—
The touch turned wrong. Too rough. Too real.
My eyes snapped open.
This wasn't a dream.
Ethan was gone.
Between my thighs, Harold grinned down at me, his disgusting cock rubbing against me. When he saw me staring, his smirk widened.
Before I could scream, he gripped himself and shoved.
He pressed a kiss to my cheek, fingers brushing through my hair. "Then rest, sweetheart. I'll take care of dinner tonight."
Watching him like this—so gentle, so oblivious—made my chest ache. How was I supposed to tell him what that creep had done?
At the table, Ethan kept refilling Harold's glass, nudging me to join. With Ethan there, the old man played nice—mostly. I forced down two drinks, my skin crawling.
What I didn't get was why Ethan was suddenly so chummy with him. After dinner, Harold made a half-hearted show of leaving, but Ethan practically begged him to stay. Before I knew it, he was settling into the guest room.
Later, in bed, Ethan casually suggested extending Harold's visit. My jaw clenched. Fine. I spat out what happened in the kitchen—though I couldn't bring myself to mention the elevator.
Ethan just laughed it off. "Oh, he already told me—just a misunderstanding."
Rage burned through me. I opened my mouth to argue, but Ethan cut me off with a kiss, his voice low. "Be good for me, yeah? I'm in the mood tonight. Let's try again?"
One wrong word, and he'd crumble—back to that pit of self-loathing. So I bit my tongue, letting him peel off my clothes.
His hands were everywhere, his mouth hot and insistent, driving me to the edge. But like always, his pathetic little cock just flopped between my thighs, useless no matter how hard he ground against me.
Finally, he collapsed beside me, silent and defeated, while I lay there burning, my mind racing with fantasies—anything to fill the ache.
Another sleepless night. But by now, I was used to it. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for a dream where Ethan was the man I needed.
And I got it.
In the dream, he was powerful—his body pinning me down, my legs hooked over his shoulders. His cock, finally hard and thick, pressed against me, ready to take what he wanted.
I moaned his name, begging. But then—
The touch turned wrong. Too rough. Too real.
My eyes snapped open.
This wasn't a dream.
Ethan was gone.
Between my thighs, Harold grinned down at me, his disgusting cock rubbing against me. When he saw me staring, his smirk widened.
Before I could scream, he gripped himself and shoved.
End of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage book page.