chapter 10
Molly Snow was a professor’s wife whose husband devoted himself to his college students during the day but gave himself fully to her at night. It always turned her on to see the transformation in him—in herself—when the day was over. He would shed his conservative wool jackets with the dated leather patches at the elbow. Ruffle the hair that had been ruthlessly smoothed down with gel. And kick off the staid, ugly shoes that reminded her of a traveling salesman’s.
It was what kept their marriage strong. Shared secrets. A willingness to stretch boundaries and do anything the other needed. Even if it meant taking the latest street drug to spice things up.
Neither had an aversion to drugs. They didn’t do things like acid or heroin, but contented themselves with things that were relatively harmless, like pot or the new “in” thing—bath salts. They added a nice zip to reality. She loved how they made her feel, and how they made him feel, and how, in the morning, he’d kiss her gently, sweetly, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him.
But at night... Oh, at night... He’d turn to her, just like he had tonight, with heat in his eyes and a wicked grin and she’d shiver at what she knew was in store for her.
“You like this, don’t you?”
He squeezed her nipple, pinching it hard through her clothing so that the pain sunk all the way to her core. Yes, yes, she thought when he grasped her silk blouse and ripped it from her in three vicious pulls. Her skirt suffered a similar fate. Despite how rough he was with her clothes, his hands were gentle as they roamed over her.
That’s why she frowned when she felt the pinch of fear...and anger that washed through her. Anger and fear that was definitely directed toward him.
He leaned in to kiss her. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. Are you going to be a good girl for me? Let me do whatever I want? Say it. Say you’ll let me do anything I want.”
She almost couldn’t speak over the emotions washing through her. She hated him. He was a sick man and he was always trying to drag her down with him. But she forced herself to say yes, which made him smile and kiss her again.
Her eyes flickered to the lit candles that flickered fragrantly beside the bed.
In terms of weapons, they were deceptively harmless.
But she’d just have to be creative.
And she was.
An hour later his hands and feet were bound to the bedposts and she was sprawled on top of him.
She wasn’t sure if she hated him now or loved him.
Trying to figure it out made her head hurt, so she stopped trying.
For an instant she thought of the man she’d met at Club Matrix. He hadn’t looked like a drug dealer any more than she and her husband looked like users.
Her husband...
She turned back to him.
When she reached for the candles, he laughed, likely thinking she’d repeat the wax play they’d engaged in a few months ago. But that wasn’t what she did.
As the bed sheets started to catch fire with her still on top of him, Toby screamed, “Why? Why are you doing this?”
Why? Her brow crinkled when the lick of heat against her skin made her gasp.
Once again she thought of the man who’d sold her the Rapture.
She shrugged. “Why not?”