SHATTERED ON PURPOSE

Broken

The days following the first incident were a quiet, aching nightmare. Rihanna had forgiven him, but the image of another woman's lips on Marcus's mouth refused to leave her head. As she lay awake in the dark, her stubborn, fiercely loyal mind searched for answers for reasons why the man who had loved her so gently for six years would suddenly stray.

"It's my fault, she thought, a knot forming in her throat as she stared at the ceiling. "He's drowning in grief over his mom and brother, and instead of taking care of him in every way, I let the distance build. I haven't even touched him properly since the funeral."

She convinced herself that if she gave him everything, if she reminded him of the erotic , undeniable bond they shared in bed , he wouldn't have any reason to seek a distraction ever again. She was going to hold onto her man with everything she had.

At 1:00 AM, Rihanna slid quietly out of bed.

She walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower. The hot water cascaded over her skin, washing away the tension, the tears, and the lingering scent of that cheap strawberry perfume that had invaded her home days ago. She dried off slowly, smoothing a rich layer of sweet vanilla lotion over her hips, thighs, and breasts until her skin glisten in the dim light. She didn't bother putting on clothes.

Stepping out of the bathroom naked, her body warm and fragrant, she walked silently toward the bedroom.

Marcus was lying on his back, fast asleep, one heavy arm draped over his forehead. Shadows carved deep lines into his chest, highlighting his broad shoulders and hard abs. Even in sleep, his jaw was tightly clenched, carrying the invisible weight of the Syndicate's threat.

Rihanna climbed onto the bed, her heart hammering against her ribs with a mixture of nervousness and determination. She straddled his lap, the bare heat of her thighs wrapping tightly around his hips.

She leaned down, her damp hair falling like a curtain around his face, and captured his lips in a deep, desperate kiss.

Marcus stirred instantly. His hand shot out, wrapping around her waist as he instinctively pulled back, his eyes fluttering open in the dark. "Ri...? What are you..."

"Shh," she whispered against his mouth, her hands cupping his jaw, her thumb tracing his lower lip. "Don't talk. Let me love you, Marcus."

Before he could process her words or push her away, she pressed her lips to his again, turning the kiss urgent and wet. She parted his lips with her tongue, tasting him deeply, pouring all six years of her devotion into the clash of their mouths.

Marcus tried to resist. Every alarm bell in his mind was screaming that touching her, loving her like this, would only make the impending fracture harder to survive. He reached up to grab her shoulders to lift her off him. "Rihanna, wait..."

"No," she murmured, her voice thick with desire as she dragged her lips down his stubbled jawline to his throat, biting gently on his pulse point. "I'm not letting you go."

The sensation of her soft, warm body pressed against his, combined with the intoxicating scent of her skin, shattered his resolve. The sheer pleasure of her touch overwhelmed his defense mechanisms. A low, helpless groan escaped his chest as his hands slid down from her shoulders to grip her curved hips, his fingers digging into her soft skin.

Rihanna shifted her position, sliding higher up his chest until she was kneeling directly over his face.

Her core was hot, slick, and completely open for him. She lowered herself slowly, pressing her wet p***y directly against his mouth and nose, grinding her hips in a slow, sliding motion .

"Rihanna... f**k," Marcus groaned heavily against her wet heat, his hot breath fanning across her most sensitive center.

The sensation sent a jolt of pure electricity straight up her spine. She threw her head back, her fingers tangling tightly into his short hair as she began to ride his face, sliding her swollen lips back and forth over his mouth. Marcus couldn't stop himself; he parted his lips and stroked his tongue upward, licking her wet center from bottom to top, drinking in her sweetness with ragged, heavy breaths.

"Yes... right there, Marcus!" Rihanna gasped loudly, her voice echoing in the quiet room as she rhythmically pressed her pelvis down onto his lips, her body shaking with intense, building pleasure.

Marcus gripped her thighs tightly, holding her in place as his tongue worked relentlessly over her sensitive spot, driving her closer and closer to the edge. The raw, intimate friction, the sound of her breathy cries, and the sheer heat between them erased everything else in the room.

When she finally shattered above him, her inner muscles contracting tightly as a wave of intense climax washed over her, she let out a loud, breathless scream, collapsing forward onto his chest, her heart beating frantically against his ribs.

Marcus breathed heavily, his chest heaving under her weight as he held her close, his thumb stroking her damp back. For a brief, fleeting moment, in the dark quiet of the night, they were just two people madly in love.

***

By noon the next day, the illusion of safety dissolved into cold, harsh reality.

While Rihanna was out at the market buying ingredients for dinner, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks , Marcus sat in his car down the street, staring at his phone.

A new text message sat on his screen from the Syndicate:

`We saw her returning to your place last night. You have 24 hours to make her leave the state, or we end her.`

Marcus closed his eyes, a violent tremor running through his body. The love, the intimacy from last night , it had only made her hold on him stronger. She thought s*x and forgiveness could fix them. She was never going to leave unless he tore her soul out completely.

It was time for the final, unforgivable strike.

At 5:30 PM, Marcus left the apartment's front door slightly ajar. He paid the second escort double the usual rate, giving her explicit instructions.

When Rihanna walked down the hallway at 5:45 PM, humming a song with a bag of groceries in her arms, she noticed the crack in the door. "Marcus?" she called out softly, stepping inside.

She heard it first ,the heavy, rhythmic creak of the bedframes upstairs, accompanied by guttural groans and loud, breathy cries.

Rihanna's heart dropped into her stomach. The grocery bag slipped from her hands, oranges and canned goods rolling silently across the floor. She walked toward their master bedroom like a ghost, her hands shaking so violently she could barely keep her balance. The bedroom door was wide open.

There was no ambiguity. No room for excuses.

On the very mattress where she had given herself to him just hours ago, Marcus was engaged in intense, furious s*x with another woman.

The sheets were stripped back to the corner. The woman was beneath him, her back arched, her hands gripping Marcus's broad shoulders as she moaned out in loud, unrestrained pleasure. Marcus was completely bare-chested, his back muscles flexing and glistening with sweat as he drove into her with heavy, relentless thrusts. His hands were planted firmly on the bed on either side of the woman's head, his jaw clenched in an expression of dark, primal intensity.

The air in the room was hot and thick, filled with the loud, wet friction of their bodies colliding and the heavy, ragged sound of Marcus's panting.

Rihanna stood frozen in the doorway, her whole world collapsing into dust.

The color drained completely from her face. Her breathing turned into a terrible, strangled choke. There was no loud yelling this time. No fiery explosions, no thrown objects. The raw betrayal of seeing him give another woman the exact same intensity he had given her hours ago destroyed her completely.

Marcus didn't stop. He deliberately maintained the heavy, rhythmic movement of his hips for few brutal seconds, making direct, unblinking eye contact with Rihanna over the woman's bare shoulder. He kept his expression cold, wild, and utterly ruthless.

The woman beneath him let out a sharp, breathless moan, burying her face into his neck as Marcus kept thrusting forward, putting on a sickening display of raw physical passion.

Rihanna stumbled backward, grabbing the wall to keep her legs from collapsing under her. The double betrayal cut through her stubborn loyalty like a rusty blade. The first time was a tragic mistake; this explicit intimacy on their own bed was absolute proof that he viewed her love as garbage. He had dragged her pride, her soul, and her love through the mud and stomped on it.

She turned around and ran.

***

The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the empty apartment like a gunshot.

The instant the door slammed, Marcus pulled away abruptly, throwing himself off the bed as if he had been burned. He reached into his pants on the chair, pulled out a thick stack of bills, and threw them onto the mattress without looking at the woman.

"Get dressed and get out," he rasped, his voice raw, shaking, and hollow. "Use the back stairs."

She gathered her clothes and scrambled out of the room.

The second he was alone, Marcus collapsed onto his knees on the cold hardwood floor beside the bed. He pulled his knees to his chest and let out a broken, soundless scream ,his chest heaving with violent, dry sobs that tore through his ribs. He had turned himself into the ultimate villain.

Through the bedroom window, he forced himself to stand up and watch the street below.

Twenty minutes later, Rihanna emerged from the building carrying two heavy suitcases. Her head was bowed, her shoulders shaking with heavy, continuous sobs as she flagged down a taxi in the pouring rain, leaving the state without ever looking back.

A dark sedan parked across the street flicked its headlights twice ,the Syndicate's watchers confirming that his target was gone.

Marcus pressed his forehead against the cold window glass, watching the red taillights of her taxi fade into the darkness.

"I'm sorry, Ri," he sobbed into the quiet room, his heart completely shattered. "I'm so sorry."