Chapter 9
750 Words
The day dragged like molasses, every hour thick with secrets and the low, constant thrum between Bella’s legs. She moved through the mansion like a ghost in her own life—smiling at Julian when he bothered to look up from his phone, nodding along to his half-assed stories about work while her mind replayed the way Jax had pinned her against the study door after breakfast, f*****g her slow and deep until she had to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming.
she doesn't seem to feel guilty anymore, just a growing certainty that Julian had stopped seeing her months ago, and within her Julian is dead and there's no longer a string attached to them.
Luna found her in the sunroom mid-afternoon, pretending to read a book she hadn’t turned a page on in twenty minutes. The maid’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” she said, eyes flicking toward the hallway. “Guest house again. They’re getting sloppy. I can make sure the side door stays unlocked. You’ll see everything.”
Bella’s stomach twisted, but not with sadness anymore. Something colder, and she smirked “Thank you, Luna. Really.”
The maid gave her a small, knowing nod and disappeared. Bella let out a shaky breath. Tomorrow. She’d finally have proof. And then she could burn the whole f*****g thing down and at least end things with him once and for all.
what an ungrateful husband she had, she said to herself as a tear made to leave her eye which she stopped mid way.
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Dinner arrived like a lit fuse.
The long table glowed under soft lights, silverware gleaming, wine breathing in crystal glasses. Julian sat on her left, scrolling discreetly under the tablecloth. Jax sat directly across, looking unfairly composed in a crisp charcoal shirt, the top two buttons undone just enough to show the strong column of his throat. Every time their eyes met, Bella felt it like a hand sliding up her thigh.
Which, as it turned out, wasn’t just her imagination.
Halfway through the main course, Jax’s foot hooked hers under the table, pressing her legs apart. His hand followed—bold, unhurried—sliding beneath the hem of her dress. Bella stiffened, fork pausing mid-air. Julian was mid-sentence about some merger, completely oblivious.
Jax’s fingers teased the edge of her lace panties, then slipped underneath. She was already wet. Embarrassingly so. He dragged two thick fingers through her folds, spreading her open right there while his son talked about quarterly reports.
Bella gripped the edge of the table, trying to breathe normally. Jax’s thumb found her c**t and circled it with devastating patience. Heat flooded her face. Her thighs trembled.
“You okay, babe?” Julian asked, finally glancing over. “You’ve been quiet.”
“Fine,” she breathed. Too breathy. “Just… warm in here.”
Jax pushed both fingers inside her without warning, curling them deep. Bella’s p***y clenched hard around the intrusion, a rush of slick coating his hand. He pumped slowly, deliberately, thumb working her c**t in tight, relentless circles. The wet sounds were faint but obscene to her own ears—soft, filthy evidence of how badly she needed this.
Pleasure coiled tight and fast in her belly. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, fighting the moan clawing up her throat. Jax kept his expression perfectly neutral, nodding at something Julian said, while his fingers f****d her harder under the table. Deeper. Rougher.
A broken little whimper escaped her anyway.
Julian paused. “What was that?”
Jax withdrew his fingers slowly, deliberately dragging them over her throbbing c**t one last time. Bella nearly cried out. Instead she forced a shaky laugh.
“Nothing. Sorry—the wine hit me weird.”
Jax lifted his hand above the table and casually wiped his fingers on his napkin, but not before she saw the sheen of her on them. He met her eyes across the candles and licked his thumb clean when no one else was looking.
Her pulse hammered. Her body ached for more.
As dessert plates were cleared and everyone started to rise, Julian reached out absentmindedly to adjust her blouse. His fingers brushed the collar, tugging it aside just enough.
A dark, unmistakable hickey stared back at him—fresh, vivid, right where her neck met her shoulder.
Julian froze. His voice dropped, sharp and confused.
“Bella… who gave you that hickey?”
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