My Beloved Cheating Husband

Chapter 5

Sarah POV

The guests were gone. Emily’s perfume still lingered in the air where she had hugged Ryan, whispered something into his ear that made him nod.

I stepped toward him, cautiously, my hand lifting to touch his shoulder. Before I could speak, his hand swung across my face.

The slap cracked loud, sharp, sending me stumbling back. My cheek burned, my eyes stung. I stared at him, stunned.

“R–Ryan…” I whispered, trembling.

His eyes flared hotter. He grabbed my elbow like a vice and dragged me down the hallway. His steps thundered until we were inside the bedroom, where he hurled me onto the floor.

“I told you!” he spat, his voice like venom. “I told you this dinner was important. All you had to do was sit there like a f*****g doll and smile!”

I tried to speak, my lips trembling. “I…I did—”

He bent, yanked my hair hard enough to tear a scream from my throat. My scalp burned as he forced my face up to his. “Was that so hard, Sarah? Huh? Was it that f*****g hard?”

Tears slid hot down my cheeks. “I tried, I—”

“Shut the f**k up!” He shoved me so hard I hit the dresser, glass bottles crashing to the ground. Shards scattered, one slicing across my elbow. Blood streamed, warm and wet down my arm.

He didn’t even glance at it. His voice cracked the air, guttural and ugly. “I regret marrying you. Regret it every goddamn day. You were never up to my standard. Still I married you. Still I gave you my name. I f****d you, loved you, tolerated your f*****g defects—” His spit landed on my cheek. “—and all you’ve given me is disappointment.”

I bit my lip, silent, holding in sobs.

He whirled, smashing the lamp, the mirror, the frame. Shards exploded across the floor. His voice roared. “That fucker Alexander… talking down to me like I’m beneath him. Just because of his father’s money!”

“Ryan… please stop.” My voice was small, weak.

He turned, his face twisted, veins bulging. He looked at my bleeding arm. For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Was it guilt? I couldn’t tell. I never could.

Then his voice came, low and cold. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Business trip. Pack my bags.”

I nodded, my head bowed.

But then I remembered his words earlier. The promise. I gathered my courage. “Before you go… can we… spend some time together? Like before?”

His jaw flexed. His silence crushed me. I almost withdrew the words when he finally said, flatly, “Fine. Let’s spend time.”

Hope flickered. Then died at the tone.

He grabbed my elbow, right over the cut, and dragged me to the bed. I cried out at the pain, but he shoved me down hard, my back hitting the mattress with a thud.

The sound of his belt sliding free filled the room. My breath caught, my body shaking.

“Ryan… please—”

“Spread your legs, Sarah.” His voice was ice.

“I’m still sore,” I whispered, trembling.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” His hand stroked his c**k slowly, menacingly, eyes dark.

My body obeyed even as my soul recoiled. I opened my legs. He forced them wider, prying me apart until I screamed. His face didn’t change.

With one brutal motion, he ripped my panties away. His hands clamped on my hips, bruising, lifting me. Without warning, he shoved inside.

The pain was instant. Ripping. Burning. My stomach cramped, bile rising in my throat. I clamped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from retching.

“You wanted time, right?” His voice was mocking, breath hot. “Let’s f*****g spend time.”

His thrusts slammed into me, savage and unrelenting, like he wanted to break me open. The mattress creaked under the force. My sobs filled the air.

“Ryan, please, it hurts—”

Another slap split across my face, harder. My ears rang. His hand gripped my jaw tight, forcing my mouth open as he crashed his lips onto mine, his tongue shoving down my throat. My tears smeared across both our faces, but he didn’t care.

He tore my dress open, ripping fabric until my breasts spilled out. His mouth latched onto them, sucking, biting, bruising. His teeth sank into my n****e, sharp pain tearing a scream from me. He pinched the other cruelly, twisting until spots danced before my eyes.

“f**k…” he groaned, slamming harder. “Your body’s made for this. Such a good f*****g whore.”

I whimpered beneath him, each thrust tearing through me, the burn unbearable. I tried to moan, to fake pleasure, but my cries came broken, raw.

He yanked my hair back, forcing me arched, and pounded into me faster. My nails dug helplessly into the sheets as his hips crashed against mine, bruising bone.

Finally, he pulled out, stroking himself furiously. His hot c*m spilled across my stomach, my breasts, my thighs, marking me.

He breathed heavy, tucking himself back in as though nothing had happened. His eyes cold, he muttered, “Get my things ready.”

And then he was gone. The door slammed.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling. My body trembled. My thighs ached, sticky with him. My elbow still bled, stinging where the glass had cut deep.

I wondered… When did things turn into this?

Why was I still here?

I told myself it was stress. Work pressure. That he’d calm down. That one day, he’d return to the man I once thought I loved.

But deep down, I knew. That man was gone.

The earring. I still hadn’t asked about the pearl earring. But even if I did, what would he say? He’d dismiss me like always.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was defective. A broken piece. I hadn’t asked for this life. I hadn’t chosen to be born like this.

A single tear slid into my hairline as I closed my eyes, my body sticky and sore. And I whispered into the silence.

“I wish… I wasn’t me.”