< The Reality Check
Pots &
The Reality Check
~Lyra~
I stood there at the top of the stairs watching them argue–watching their hands move, their mouths open, their bodies tense–and honestly, it felt like I couldn’t hear a single f*****g thing.
Their lips were moving, but the words weren’t landing. They weren’t even making it to my ears. It was like someone turned the volume of the whole world down to zero and left me trapped in a bubble of silence, in a house that suddenly didn’t feel like it belonged to me anymore.
Because she kissed him.
She f*****g kissed him.
She put her lips on his like she owned him. Like she had the right. Like he hadn’t been inside me less than an hour ago. Like I wasn’t still limping from the way he split me open with his knot, still aching from how full he left me, still dripping down my thighs like I was some ruined little thing marked and claimed and destroyed.
And there she was.
Putting her mouth on him like she was coming home to her man.
God. Who was I even kidding?
She’s his wife.
His actual wife.
The woman in the picture frame. The woman he said was dead. The one with the perfect blonde hair and glossy smile and long legs and pretty little rich–girl bones that probably never broke no matter how hard she
cried.
And I’m just-
I’m just an eighteen–year–old i***t who fell in love with a man twice her age.
A man I barely know. A man with secrets. A man who breaks people and makes them beg and ruins them in the best, worst, most addictive way possible.
And I let him ruin me.
Willingly.
I wanted it.
I still want it.
I still want him.
Even now. Even after this. Even as my entire chest feels like it’s being chewed on from the inside out by some animal I can’t control.
I wanted to move. I really did. I wanted to run. To scream. To cry or throw something or slam the door so hard it cracked.
But I couldn’t.
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The Reality Check
I couldn’t do anything except stand there, frozen, while my wolf paced inside me like she wanted blood She was angry. Furious. Not just for me. For us. She kept whispering things in the back of my head like mine, mine, ours, ours, get her out, and I didn’t know whether I was going to shift or collapse or start tearing my own hair out from the pressure building in my skull.
Because she touched him.
That woman touched him.
And not just his arm.
She touched his c**k.
I saw it.
I f*****g saw it with my own two eyes.
She reached for him like she knew the exact shape of it. Like it still belonged to her. Like the same c**k that was inside me–inside me–just minutes ago didn’t mean anything at all.
I think I stopped breathing.
My whole body clenched up so fast I nearly blacked out. My legs went numb. My throat locked. My stomach twisted so hard I thought I was going to vomit all over the railing. My heart? Gone. Obliterated. I think it
actually disintegrated inside my chest.
I couldn’t stop staring at her hand.
At her fingers right there, pressing against the front of his sweatpants like she’d done it a million times and had every intention of doing it again.
And he didn’t push her away fast enough.
He didn’t yell.
He didn’t even f*****g flinch right away.
So what did that mean?
What the hell did that mean?
Was he just shocked? Was he just frozen? Was he secretly enjoying it? Or worse–was he comparing us? Was he standing there thinking about how she used to do it and how she probably did it better and how I’m just some young little mistake he got carried away with?
God. Why was I thinking like this? Why couldn’t I shut my brain up?
Why couldn’t I forget what I saw?
Why couldn’t I forget that her lips were just on his?
That her hand was on the same body that just had mine begging for more!
I could still feel him inside me.
Still feel the pressure of his knot.
Still feel the sting between my legs and the soreness in my thighs and the mess dripping out of me and down my legs in slow, sticky trails of humiliation.
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And none of it mattered.
Because I wasn’t her.
Because I would never be her.
She had history with him. A house. A child. A wedding band. A name. I didn’t even have a toothbrush here i didn’t even have clothes. I had a bed I wasn’t supposed to be in, a body he used like a toy, and feelings that were way too big for a girl who thought she was smart enough to not get attached.
I was wrong.
So f*****g wrong.
And now I was standing here, shaking, sweating, still naked under this goddamn sheet, watching the man who said I was his let another woman put her mouth and her hands on him like I didn’t even exist.
I blinked.
Another tear fell.
I didn’t remember crying.
I didn’t remember anything except the scream that was climbing up my throat and the wolf in my head
howling like she wanted to kill something.
But I didn’t move.
I just stood there.
Watching.
And then she did something that made every nerve in my body twitch with rage.
Something that made my vision blur and my hands curl so tight I swear I felt my nails digging into the skin of my palms.
She started unbuttoning her shirt.
Right there in front of him.
Right there in his house.
Right in the same room where I was still standing–barely, shaking, bleeding inside, still dripping from what he did to me–and this woman, this polished, glossy, picture–perfect wife of his had the audacity to slowly undo her blouse like we weren’t even there. Like I was invisible. Like she was walking into her territory and reminding everyone of exactly who had it first.
One button.
Then two.
Then three.
And then I saw them.
Her t**s.
Full, high, perfect, probably enhanced. They sat in her bra like they belonged in a magazine ad. Like they’d been lifted and powdered and prepared just to destroy me. And she f*****g knew what she was doing. She
< The Reality Check
tilted her chest forward ever so slightly, like she wanted him to look. Like she wanted to remind him that she used to be his.
And me?
God.
I wanted to grab her by the hair and slam her face down into the floor.
I wanted to tear that blouse off her body and scream into her face that she didn’t get to do this. That she
didn’t get to come back from the grave and steal him away from me with some fancy bra and a f*****g pout.
I wanted to rip her to shreds with my hands.
But I couldn’t.
Because I was still in shock.
Still in pain.
Still stuck at the top of the stairs, watching the man who said I was his say nothing as his wife tried to
seduce him.
And that was the moment I realized I couldn’t stand there any longer.
I couldn’t watch another second.
Not if I wanted to survive this.
I turned.
Ran.
As fast as my sore, leaking, trembling legs would carry me.
I didn’t even think.
I didn’t even care if he saw me.
I just needed to get out of that hallway. Away from her. Away from the sound of her voice and the sight of her perfect, glossy, rich–girl t**s trying to reclaim something that wasn’t hers anymore.
I got to the room, slammed the door behind me–quietly, so nothing would sound suspicious–but hard
enough that the handle clicked and the sheets on the bed shifted from the gust of air.
And then I dropped.
Right there on the floor.
To my knees.
Hard.
J
t anything except the sound of I didn’t care about the pain. I didn’t care about the cold tile. I didn’t care my own breath catching in my throat and the tears that poured down my face so fast I couldn’t keep up with
them.
I buried my face in my hands and cried. Cried like I’d never cried before. The kind of crying that shook your bones and made your stomach ache and made your soul feel like it was cracking right down the middle. “What the f**k is wrong with me?” I whispered to myself, my voice hoarse, shaking, broken. “Why did I think I
The Reality Check
40 Ports >
mattered? Why did I let him touch me like that? Why did I let him ruin me? I’m so f*****g stupid. I’m so dumb. God, he probably didn’t even mean any of it. He probably just needed someone warm to f**k while his wife was gone. And I–I thought it was real. I thought he saw me.”
“She’s beautiful,” I whispered to myself, tasting the bitterness like poison in my mouth. “She’s everything I’m not. She’s his wife. She’s the one with the history. She’s the one he married. She probably gave him that house, that daughter, that life. And me? I’m just the girl who spread her legs and thought it meant something.
My voice cracked.
“I thought I meant something.”
I laughed once. It was a horrible sound. Sharp. Ugly. The kind of laugh that didn’t come from amusement–it came from devastation.
“She probably knows all the things he likes. The way he likes to be kissed. The way he likes to be touched. She probably doesn’t even have to ask. She probably never had to beg. She probably never had to wonder if he was going to walk away and pretend she didn’t exist once he was finished.”
I clenched my fists and slammed them against the floor once, twice, until the pain in my palms distracted me from the ache in my chest.
“I let him do everything to me,” I whispered. “I let him use every part of me. I let him ruin me. And he couldn’t even push her away fast enough.”
That was when the door opened.
I didn’t hear footsteps. I didn’t hear his voice first. Just the soft click of the doorknob turning and the creak of it swinging open like he had every right to walk in.
I lifted my head.
My face was soaked. My eyes were swollen. My hands were trembling as I clutched the sheet tighter around my chest and glared at the man standing in the doorway like he had no idea he just cracked me open.
And the words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“What the hell are you doing here, Damon?!”
My voice was louder than I meant it to be. Sharp. Full of tears. Full of fury. Full of something that sounded too much like heartbreak to be anything else.
His face changed instantly.
He looked at me like I’d just stabbed him.
But I didn’t care.
Not this time.
“Don’t act like you care,” I spat, getting up from the floor even though my legs were shaking and I felt like I might collapse. “You already made it clear I’m nothing compared to her. You already let her kiss you. You let her touch you. You let her do all of that right there where I could see it. Right after you-” I stopped myself, my voice cracking. “Right after you were inside me.”
He stepped forward.
The Reality Check
I stepped back…
Royalty Writes
My dear readers Thank you all so much for your support. It means the world to me. Thank you for the moon ticket. For the vote and everything. And I would try my possible best to make this book a
success.
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