Brighton City Airport was still much the same since I’d been there last. Pangs of nostalgia pricked at me when I parked up and scanned out over the dimly lit runways. Ryder and I used to come here when we were in our teens, what used to be Shoreham Airport at the time. We’d lay on the grass and watch the planes take off and land, pretending we were anywhere but Brighton. Even as teenagers, our longing to leave the city behind had been deep. The last time I’d been here was after my father had died and I’d sold a hanger I had no idea he’d had. The hangar had been empty when Ryder and I had pulled open the vast doors, just another Rinaldi Snr puzzle. There was no clue as to why he had a business at the airport. I still didn’t know.

I settled my attention to the old airport building, remembering why I was sitting in the dark and cursed up a blue streak. Memory lane would have to wait. Stella would come flouncing out in no time at all, acting like she didn’t put me on the spot. What the hell was she doing?

I stayed in the car, in no hurry to reconnect with the ice-queen that was soon to be my ex-wife. I was hoping against hope her stay would not be long, that I could endure it unscathed. She was up to something, I could feel it in my gut. Stella didn’t do anything without reason. She’d cooked up some elaborate plan and had set Beaufort and me in her sights.

My phone chirped on the dashboard, most likely Ryder. He was in a bar with his girlfriend and her friend, the picture messages would roll in soon enough. He was as predictable as frostbite on Everest with no gloves. And it’s never one coming through either, he did it to torture me, show me how the other half lived, how normal people lived. He’d sent me his fair share of picture texts through the years, most not fit for public eyes.

Opening the message, I read the caption first; ‘wish you were here, dickhead!’ Well, that’s inventive, like he’s never called me that before. I smirked at the goofball, he was at the local pub, I wasn’t missing out on that much.

I flipped my phone on its side to get a better look at the picture. The most stunning pair of eyes I’d ever seen stared back at me. Deep russet brown, swirling full of emotion, eyes you could melt into like chocolate. Hypnotic. I studied the picture closer, pulling the phone to my face, recognising those sad brown eyes from the cafe, the day we looked at the restaurant that first time.

Scanning the three of them, Taylor tucked under Ryder’s arm, looking all cosy. Beside her must be Laura, my eyes kept drawing back to the beautiful woman. I forgot where I was as I scrutinised the picture more closely, wishing I was there, like Ryder’s caption said. Unquestionably a dickhead. I wanted to be huddled close to the woman whose enormous eyes had captured me the second I’d looked her way. I zoomed in, on Laura, and laughed. She’d been taken by surprise, looked awkward as hell, and gorgeous. This woman staring back at me with a cute grimace had a hidden depth in her eyes too; something shifted in me, stirred a taste. I considered what it was like to want someone, really want someone for the first time. It startled me, and I felt ridiculous that a simple picture could have the effect it was. For the umpteenth time, I regretted taking Stella’s call.

Shit, I was losing my mind.

A sharp rap on the window next to my head scared the shit out of me. The soap opera that was my life glared through the window. Frosty, steel grey eyes tight with annoyance met mine. She stood unamused as I scrambled to close out my phone and tuck it into my pocket. My headache from earlier punched right back at me, making me feel queasy. Scratching the scruff on my chin, I turned back to Stella, refusing to pull the window down. I did a double take and muttered ‘shit’ a few times when I saw it wasn’t only Stella making an inconvenience of herself. Oh no, bitch from hell number two had tagged along.

Could it get any fucking worse?

Alexa Carter was standing behind Stella looking far too goddamned smug for my liking. Ryder was going to flip his shit, especially with Taylor around. Stella and Alexa together equalled the stuff nightmares were made of when they set their sights on you. Guaranteed they’d have Taylor in their crosshairs the second they figured out Ryder was dating her.

I tipped my head back in frustration, asking whoever was fucking with me to kindly stop now. What the hell had I done to deserve this? Sighing, I squinted back at Stella when she moved away from the side of the car.

“There you are!” Stella exclaimed the minute I got out. “I brought Alexa along, darling. I hope you don’t mind.”

Like I ever had the choice...

She sidled up to me, then pushed me towards the baggage trolley loaded with obnoxiously expensive luggage. I moved toward the poor bloke who looked like he couldn’t wait to escape and thanked him, ignoring the two bitches yakking about the poor service on the plane behind me. Lugging the cases into the boot of my car, I barked at them to get a move on.

I sped back to the house in silence, not apologising for it either. I didn’t want to be in the car with either woman a moment longer. When I pulled up in the darkened driveway, I slid from the car the second the engine stopped and strode to the house, seriously pissed at myself for allowing this to happen. A cough from behind gave me pause, I swirled around on my feet, meeting Stella’s formidable stare.

“Bags, darling?”

The condescending tone of her voice pushed pins into my skin as she arched her eyebrows at me. She was grating on my last fucking nerve and I’d barely been in her company for an hour. Alexa wisely remained standing at the car, silently. I looked Stella up and down, making sure she got a hint of the derision pouring from me, then marched back to the car, flinging open the boot. Grabbing at two cases, I hauled them toward the house, unceremoniously dumping them on the porch then unlocked the front door. I was being an arse, I couldn’t have cared less.

Stella grappled with her case, struggling to pull it into the foyer. Huffing in disapproval, she looked around the large reception area, her face scrunching up in distaste. The old property was homey and warm and lived in, pictures lined the hallway walls, so far removed from our life in York, with intention. Stella hated it.

I hurried down to the kitchen and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge, drinking straight from the carton. Escape to my room and locking out the vapid atmosphere this pair had dragged from God knows where, was a mighty fine idea. Searching for some painkillers in the cupboard above the cooker, I found a packet and popped two in my mouth as I guzzled more juice. I traipsed back into the foyer, making sure I looked unaffected by them being here. Showing no emotion gave her no ammunition.

“You’ll have to share a room.” I stared Stella in the face, daring her to complain. “Last door down the hall. Or get a hotel, but good luck with that.”

Holding up my hand, I stopped her. “Not negotiable.” I stink eyed first Stella, then Alexa, neither saying a word for a change. Maybe they’d finally picked up on the fact that they’d royally pissed me off. “Ryder won’t be home. Leave him the fuck alone, Alexa, or you can get the fuck out of my house. All right?”

Alexa’s hackles went up as she snapped back at me. “Oh, he’s out banging his whores, is he?”

Her comment aggravated me no end, knowing exactly where Ryder was right now. Having a better time than me for sure. Since arriving in Beaufort, before that even, Ryder had calmed his slutty ways and hadn’t had anyone over for a long time, including Taylor. This pair didn’t need to know that of course, having the upper hand for a change was energising. I smirked at Alexa.

“You’d know about that, huh?” If she was offended she didn’t show it, the woman had little shame. “And no, he isn’t.”

Alexa’s face transformed into something akin to a hungry wolf. She knew Ryder well; if he wasn’t shagging anything that moved, then he was doing other things. I back-peddled, hoping to get away with the mistake.

“He doesn’t bring his whores back here.”

A disappointed look flashed across her ugly face. The woman would love nothing more than to sink her claws back into my best buddy. No fucking way, wasn’t happening again.

I skulked away, mumbling a goodnight as I went, beating a hasty retreat to the sanctuary of my room. Leaning against the closed bedroom door, I told myself it was over. Stella and I were done, she couldn’t get to me anymore. I had to push her to the back of my mind, not let her rile me up.

Half an hour later, the house fell silent. I stripped down to my birthday suit and climbed into bed at half past ten on a weekend night. Since moving to Beaufort I’d enjoyed the freedom from Stella, she knew she wasn’t wanted in this room, so I relaxed, feeling comfortable enough to remain naked. My boxer briefs always strangled my poor nuts by the time morning came, sleeping nude was the way to go. Opting to stare out into the inky, dark sky, I didn’t bother getting up to draw the curtains.

Reaching over I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, wanting to list all the people I had to contact in the next few days, to get this restaurant up and running. I made sure my lawyer’s name was top, I could find out where things lay with the divorce, too. I didn’t want it taking any longer than necessary.

Finished with the memo’s, satisfied I’d remembered everything, my mind wandered back to Ryder and his candid selfie. Well, not a selfie, more a candid shot. I brought up the photo on my phone again and studied the three of them, noting how comfortable they all looked together, even though this was a first meeting for Ryder and Laura. Yet still, there was a haunting to her eyes I couldn’t put my finger on. She held my attention like nothing before, no other woman had ever looked so utterly captivating.

She was the absolute opposite of Stella. Dark waves of hair framed her face and her awkward smile screamed a subtle warmth. It was a silly notion, I wanted to think that smile was for me, and for me only. I struggled to grasp onto the way she was making me feel. Hope. I think that’s what it was. Hope for something I didn’t even know.

I squinted at the photo, at her, following the curve of her neck, where the hint of a scarf stood out along the bottom of the picture. Such a simple thing – the line of a woman’s throat - it set my pulse racing, my dick thickening under the warm duvet. I wasn’t even surprised at the bugger getting a stiffy over a little flesh, he’d been starved of attention for a long time. I snaked my hand down my stomach and under the covers, taking myself in a firm grip, still staring at the enticing woman on my screen.

What was it about her?

As I admired her full, pert lips, my cock strained so hard I clenched my teeth, it was almost painful. I gripped myself tighter, the sweet agony feeling like heaven, the pressure intoxicating. Closing my eyes, I imagined the woman’s tongue sliding up the thick vein that pulsed hot blood to the crown. Holy shit! My balls were aching with tension, if I started jacking off I’d come in minutes. Watching sub-standard porn and using my hand were never enough to fully arouse me, but the mere sight of this woman gave me the hardest erection I’d had in a long time.

Groaning, I removed my hand from under the duvet, feeling perverted for jerking off to a photo of a woman I didn’t know, Taylor’s sister, of all people. I was disgusted with myself. Undeniably losing my fucking marbles. Still, I was rock solid, and I couldn’t stop thinking about her lips around me.

I snapped my phone off and angrily threw it onto the nightstand. “Lukewarm shower it is then.” I continued to lay there and scowled at the ceiling, making no effort to get up.

The muffled noise of my bedroom door creaking open roused me from a semi slumber and I twisted my head to catch Stella sneaking into my room - uninvited. I shut my eyes, hoping she didn’t spot I was awake, hoping she’d slink back off. Stella whispered out my name across the dark room. I ignored her, intimating the hint to fuck off. I wasn’t in the mood to entertain whatever crap she was about to throw at me.

Her muted footfalls padded across the carpeted room then I felt the whoosh of chilly air as she pulled back the duvet and invited herself into my bed. The brazen bitch climbed right on in, like it was her God given right to do so. It perhaps was once, that ship had long sailed. We hadn’t shared the same bed in almost two years, she wasn’t sharing it now.

My earlier annoyance resurfaced, the pretence of sleep foiled. I didn’t want her here, especially not in my bed. She whispered my name again and this time I snapped at her.

“What?” I didn’t take the trouble to hide my anger at her audacity, didn’t bother to open my eyes to look in her direction when she shuffled closer.

“Can I sleep here?”

The murmured ‘please’ that followed almost sounded sincere. I’d had twenty years of listening to ulterior motives and I recognised one when I heard it. Especially from her mouth.

“No.” I said, my voice void of any emotion.

My hard on was taking its sweet arsed time to shrivel back into its hidey hole the way it usually did when Stella was around and making her intentions clear. I prayed she didn’t notice. Considering I was flat on my back and Stella was sharp as a tack, missing nothing, I wasn’t getting away with it. She’d take it all the wrong way, thinking she could still turn me on like she used to in the old days. She’d manipulate me with a hot fuck, because if there was one thing my ex-wife was good at - it was fucking.  

“Go back down the hall, Stella.” I wanted to avoid the impending messy scenario.

She inched closer again, pushing her body against my side, the coldness of her skin shocking my warm flesh. Her breasts pressed against my arm as she breathed into my ear. Say what you like about my ex-wife - ugly as sin - except on the outside; Stella was a pin-up beauty and knew it, my body did too, responding to the softness of her skin.

“You’re my husband, Lucca.”

I stiffened at her comment, nerves wound tight, all too aware of the title that bound me to her. I was her husband, had been for a long time. I should have been her only lover, all she desired, but no - there had been more than me warming her bed these last twenty years, and I couldn’t even stomach the thought of how long she’d been fucking around with Adam. Our marriage vows had been meaningless, she’d thwarted most everyone. Funny she’d forget that now she wanted from me.

“Stella...we need to talk.”

Those cliched words had never sounded so bitter on my tongue before. Maybe having her naked and vulnerable lying next to me was the perfect opportunity to engage in some civil conversation. When I finally turned to consider her, she had an expression on her face I hadn’t seen in years. Like she cared. I figured that couldn’t be right, she’d never cared. The truth of it was - neither of us gave a shit, we’d told each other repeatedly.

“Tomorrow,” she mumbled.

Trailing her icy fingers down my chest, I shivered. Bumps rose along my flesh, not the arousing kind because it didn’t feel good. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach and I edged away from Stella only for her to follow.

“I know what’s coming, Lucca.” She squeezed my wrist with her other hand. “Can’t we pretend for tonight, that we’re still married, that we’re still husband and wife?”

She let go of my wrist and slid her arm across my stomach, her fingers brushing the tip of my semi soft dick. Her words were razors to my heart, for all the things we could have been but never were. A pining for a love I’d never felt, yet knew was out there. For Stella and me, love had been unattainable. How we’d managed to survive together for all these years I would never know.

Stella giggled in my ear as she wrapped her cold fingers around my length, and from nowhere the idea took root and became enticing. The pressure of her dainty hand around me only served to remind me why my cock was standing to attention in the first place. Mahogany eyes stared back at me as I closed mine and dragged in a breath. Stella took it as a green light and stroked me, I was fucking hard as granite again under the hand of a woman I could barely tolerate. And it was Laura’s face filling the space in my head.

How’s that for fucked up?

Stella was halfway over me and crawling down my legs before I’d returned to my senses. I grabbed at her shoulders to drag her back up when I felt the warmth of her mouth engulf me. No hesitation on her part. Pushing her off was the sensible thing to do, I couldn’t bring myself to stop. Instead, I grabbed tufts of Stella’s blonde hair and gripped tighter when she moaned around me, the vibrations rousing me further. It had been a long time since Stella had touched me like she was, lavishing attention on me. I even forgot I hated her sucking me off, her mouth anywhere near my manhood, dangerous. My body took on a mind of its own and before long my hips were pushing up roughly, my length forcing its way down her throat. I foolishly continued, committing to the act, never hesitating yet anticipating nothing good would come of this.

Stella shamelessly sucked my cock and it felt so goddamned perfect I was reluctant to pull out. When her hand cupped my balls and I groaned noisily, an unfamiliar orgasm threatened. I’d not come in so long. I yanked Stella up the length of my body until she was face to face with me.

“Please, Lucca.”

Warring furiously with my morals, Stella recognised the indecision in me. I thought back to the many times I’d woken up handcuffed to our bed, Stella’s lips around my dick, my vehement protests meaningless. Teeth and flesh didn’t ever go hand in hand well. She’d climb on top and use me, being nothing but brutal. I remembered the way she’d gouge her spiked nails into my chest, drawing blood, leaving scarred lines. How her hands would wrap around my throat so tight I’d almost black out from the pressure, while she took her pleasure. I recounted the time she whipped my legs black and blue with one hand while the other squeezed between my legs until the pain was so unbearable I sobbed and begged for mercy like a child.

The last time I’d slept with my wife was not by choice. You’d think I’d have learnt my lesson and slept with one eye open at night. I somewhat had until Stella lulled me back with false apologies and fake securities. I’d let my walls down and regretted it.

It had been another mistake, which had culminated in a beating so appalling, I’d ended up in the hospital. Only after she had fucked me raw with whatever implement she could find in our bedroom, to the point of making me bleed. My cock hadn’t liked that one little bit which only angered Stella and spurred her on. Four hours of hell later, my bruised and battered body finally succumbed, my orgasm as painful as my broken wrist, bloodied ankles and blackened eyes. Talking my way out of that mess was still a blur, but I had, with Ryder’s help. Her viciousness was the final straw, the start of the end for Stella and me.

My wife was one sadistic bitch who got off on my pain. The ‘r’ word always hovered on the tip of my tongue, yet I could never bring myself to utter it. Stella was my wife. Her proclivities were beyond the bit of rough sex I enjoyed on occasion. Early in our marriage I’d made no secret of the fact I’d like to try a dirty, hard fuck now and again. And we did, but her extremes became too much and at times sickened me. I’d made damned sure never to put myself in that position again.

If she wanted a hate fuck now, then she’d better hold on. For old time’s sake, I was going to give her exactly what she asked for. If that made me a bastard? So be it. I was taking control back. I needed this, needed to know there were no feelings left. That I could use her the same way she used me.

Was I really going to entertain her? Yes - yes, I was.

I shoved her away, rolling her over roughly, pinning her underneath me. I grabbed her hands and yanked them above her head. “Don’t move them.” I looked her in the eye, mind made up. “You want me to fuck you? Is that what you want?”

“No. I want my husband to make love to me.” Her voice was so timid I hardly recognised it.

I sneered at her, raising myself up onto my haunches. I spat in my hand and grabbed my cock, leaning over, stroking my erection inches from her face. Her eyes were glassy as she flicked her tongue across her lips and reached up to brush her finger over my nipple. Her delicacy confused me.

“Fuck me then.”  

My strokes got faster, my grasp tighter. I wanted to be almost there before I fucked her. Stella tried to pull me down toward her, expecting a kiss. I refused to look at her and ordered - yes, ordered - her onto her stomach. I didn’t even want the woman touching me, never mind looking at me. It was a bastard thing to do but so was hate fucking. I shrugged it off and gripped her arse cheeks, rubbing my spit lubed cock along her crack, anticipating a quick and angry screw.

My fingers slid from her chilled flesh and reached into the bedside drawer to pull out a condom, one of the many Ryder had thrown at me the day my divorce papers were delivered. I hastily rolled one over my softening erection, closing my eyes, not regretting seeking the image of Laura in my head. All the blood rushed southward and, it helped. Oh lord, did it help. Stella mumbled some shit about not needing a condom, no way was I fucking her raw.

Slapping her arse, I growled at her. “Shut the fuck up, Stella.”

She soon quieted when I ran a finger up her slit, making sure she was wet. I might be acting like a prick right then, but I wasn’t sadistic. I didn’t want to kiss her, cuddle her, hell - any foreplay was unappealing with this woman, the intimacy too much. I made my intentions clear as she wriggled underneath me, grabbing her hips roughly and raising her arse from the bed. I speared into her, not caring in the slightest for the gentle touch. I rammed my dick into her pussy so hard, she jolted up the bed and cried out.

“Lucca...what the fuck?”

I heard a hint of panic in her voice as I pulled out and impaled her again. I didn’t have it in me to ease up, I went at Stella with punishment in mind. No way in hell was she getting off tonight, not from me. I was taking what I wanted; a warm body to fuck, to hell with her. I rough handed her, gripping so tight the flesh was white around my fingers.

Then I fucked her.

Fucked her like the slut she was.

Fucked her like I hated her.

And when my roaring orgasm emptied into the rubber, I pulled out and rolled away from her. Sweat dripped down my chest as I gathered my breath, Stella’s whimpers off to my side barely registering. I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

I leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Fuck you very much.”