“Get Nicholas and come home, now,” he ordered, hanging up.
He was pissed. Shit. I was scared. Maybe I shouldn’t go home just yet. Maybe I should stay with Celeste and Alicia for a while until he calmed down. He wouldn’t come there and cause a scene, he didn’t work that way. Drew couldn’t hide behind his sheep’s clothing if he did that. He wouldn’t blow his cover. Then again, I’d just make things worse for when I did go home.
Drew stood at the door, waiting for me with his hands in his pockets. He was pissed. I could tell right away. Nicholas kicked his legs, lunging for his daddy, happy to see him. Drew’s face lightened, just a bit. Nicholas had that effect on everyone he came in contact with.
I decided to play this pissed off role too, not sure if I was safer that way or just apologizing my ass off. I stormed past Drew, turning his shoulder with mine, and stomped toward the kitchen.
“What the hell, Morgan?” Drew asked, following me.
I glared at him, feigning anger when in truth, I wanted to just come out and ask him, tell him that I’d found a key. “You tell me, Drew,” I barked, taking Nicholas and sitting him in his highchair with a hand full of cheerios.
“Give me your phone,” he demanded with an open palm.
I took my phone from the pocket in my purse and slammed it on the countertop with a pissed off expression. That time wasn’t fake. I was pissed.
“Is there a problem, Morgan?” he asked, opening the screen on my smartphone.
“Nope, go ahead Drew. Read my text messages, see who I called, see who called me, see if I give a fuck,” I nonchalantly gestured with a nod.
Drew was around to my side of the island in a split second, speaking down, inches from my face. “Maybe you need a timeout, Morgan. Maybe you need a few days of isolation, get your shit together, timeout. Is that what you need? You need a break from society for a few days?” he threatened through gritted teeth.
“Maybe I do,” I argued, giving it right back to him. “Maybe I need to take my son and give you the fucking timeout. I’m tired, Drew. I can’t live like this anymore. I don’t need you to be my fucking keeper. You can take all your lies, your secrets, your dominating self and shove them clear up your ass,” I yelled, shoving him backwards. Oh, my god. I just shoved Drew. He was going to kill me.
“You need to stop, Morgan. You need to stop right this second,” Drew quietly spoke in my ear after grabbing and turning me into the refrigerator. Holding my arm high in the center of my back, I tried to move away from him. I couldn’t, he lifted my arm higher, causing too much pain for me to do anything.
“Let go of me, Drew,” I demanded.
“Are you going to settle down? You’re acting like this in front of your son. He’s sitting right there watching you. How does that make you feel, Morgan?”
“Drew, let go of my arm.”
“Stop acting like a lunatic.”
“Really? You’re calling me crazy?” I asked, vehemently. How dare he.
“Okay, okay, let’s stop this,” Drew said, softening his grip and turning me to face him.
I didn’t look at him. I looked passed him.
“I think we should spend some time in my office. You seem to have forgotten where your place is here,” Drew whispered, kissing my neck and grinding into me with an already noticeable erection.
“I don’t want you to touch me,” I whispered in the same way, mimicking his tone.
“You two going to get it on right here in the kitchen, in front of Nicky,” Marta interrupted, carrying a sack of groceries.
“No. We’re finished here,” I assured her, stepping around Drew and taking my son from his chair.
Drew took him from me with a stern look, placed him back in his seat and walked me out of the kitchen, holding both my arms. I should have protested. I shouldn’t have let him think he won—again. I could have. I wasn’t afraid that he was going to hit me. That wasn’t why I didn’t protest at all. I didn’t protest because I was as sick as my twisted husband. I was too busy trying to put my vagina in its place to protest. I knew where we were going, and I knew why. So did my aching pussy.
Drew closed the door, slamming me against it. His mouth crushed mine with a powerful I’m-the-one-in-control kiss. “You know what it does to me when you disobey me, Morgan,” Drew rasped in my hair while his fingers fumbled with the buttons on my blouse. I couldn’t speak, no words would form. I was having a hard enough time, reminding myself to breath.
“This is so fucked up, Drew,” I panted in some sort of breathy moan. It was fucked up. My husband was about to punish me for disobeying him, and I was more aroused than I could handle. I would have done anything he told me to do at that moment—anything.