My Beloved Cheating Husband

Sarah POV The sunlight crawled weakly into the bedroom, falling across Ryan’s bare chest. He was sprawled on the bed, mouth slightly open, sleeping peacefully as though the man who broke me last night didn’t exist. I slipped out from under the sheets, every muscle in my body aching as I walked naked to the washroom. My legs trembled with each step. I glanced back once more before shutting the door. He looked so harmless when asleep. That illusion had fooled me too many times. The mirror showed me the truth. I froze, staring at the reflection of my body. My skin was a battlefield. Red welts across my neck and breasts, purple bruises spreading over my thighs, bite marks along my collarbone. My breasts were swollen and tender, my lips split and raw. My back throbbed and between my legs there was only pain. His scent, his touch, his violence clung to me like a curse. I placed both palms on the sink and leaned forward, my chest heaving. I looked into my own eyes. Empty. Hollow. It hadn’t always been this way. Ryan used to be gentle. He used to ask. He used to kiss me like I mattered. But now the moment he stumbled home drunk, I became nothing but a body to use. My pleas, my tears, my words meant nothing. I had told him, begged him, over and over, but all I ever got in return was a cold laugh. “We’ve been married this long and you still can’t handle me?” Maybe I should stop expecting him to change. I practiced the smile again. That smile that could cover bruises, silence doubts, make it all look normal. My lips curved. My eyes stayed blank. Perfect. The door opened. Ryan walked in, naked, his erection standing hard and proud. My stomach twisted. He didn’t hesitate. His arm coiled around my waist, yanking me back into him. I felt him press between my ass cheeks, his hand clamping over my breast, fingers digging into the tender flesh. His mouth found my neck, sucking, biting, marking. He looked into the mirror. Our eyes met. For a second, he froze. He had seen it. My emptiness. The smile that wasn’t real. Panic shot through me. If he realized I was faking, it would be worse. Much worse. I tilted my head back, forced my lips open, and moaned. “Mmmh… ahh… Ryan…” My voice trembled but I bent my spine, arched my body against him, gave him the sounds he craved. His smirk returned. His grip tightened. In a single motion he spun me, lifted me onto the cold cabinet, and spread my legs apart. His palm slapped down hard on my breast, making it bounce painfully. He sneered. “Now that’s a good morning, isn’t it, darling?” I opened my mouth to answer but my voice broke into a scream as he shoved himself inside me in one brutal thrust. The pain tore through me, raw and ripping, and my nails dug into the marble surface until they scraped white lines across it. My tears spilled instantly, running hot down my face, but Ryan only grinned wider. My screams fueled him. His hips slammed into mine over and over, merciless, each thrust harder, faster, as though he wanted to break me apart from the inside. The cabinet creaked under the force. My head fell back, eyes blurring, but I still forced out moans. “Ahhh… ohh… Ryan… mmmh…” They weren’t real. They weren’t pleasure. They were survival. His breath was heavy, ragged. His expression twisted into something almost inhuman, drunk on the sound of my pain. He slapped my breast again, harder this time, and hissed, “That’s it. That’s what I want.” The tears wouldn’t stop. My body shook violently, my legs numb from the force of his thrusts. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, trying to silence the sobs that mixed with the moans I forced out. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, but the tears kept flowing. My body betrayed me, shaking and convulsing under his assault. His pace quickened, each thrust deeper, until with one final growl he spilled himself inside me. He pulled out roughly, leaving my hole aching and raw, his c*m spilling down my thighs and dripping to the cabinet. I sat there panting, chest heaving, unable to move. My legs trembled violently, my whole body sticky and sore. Ryan’s eyes dragged over me, from my swollen lips to my trembling knees, and then he smirked. “As expected. You only look good when you’re f****d like a whore.” The words stabbed me. They always did. But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t reply. He ran a hand through his hair, already moving toward the door. “Breakfast in an hour. I have a meeting.” I slid off the cabinet slowly, my legs almost giving out beneath me, his c*m still dripping. I was halfway to steadying myself when his hand grabbed the back of my head, yanking me back. His mouth crushed mine. His kiss was violent, biting, pulling, his teeth tearing into my lip until I whimpered. He pulled away only when he was satisfied with the taste of blood. “Don’t be late,” he whispered darkly against my ear. “Tonight we’re having guests. Make sure you look pretty.” I nodded. My body obeyed like a machine. His grip tightened once more. “And Sarah…” His eyes burned into mine. “Smile. Don't keep your face blank like you always do. We have to look good in front of my boss.” He shoved me away and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him. I stood there in front of the mirror again. My lips were swollen and bleeding. My breasts covered in his handprints. My thighs sticky with him. My eyes lifeless. And still, I smiled. Because that’s what I had learned to do.