After that strange outing with Davis, it’s back to studying.

Fortunately, I’m an actress. That means I’m used to reading really long, relatively boring documents and memorizing what they say. I keep thinking about this binder of Davis’s life as basically just one long script, and I’m the narrator.

It’s slow going. I’m just one girl, after all, and I’m supposed to memorize this guy’s entire life story.

Like, for example, I’m supposed to know that when he was ten years old, he had a rabbit named Charlie. Well, he and Charlie used to be close pals, hopping around the basement and all that crap, until one day Davis took Charlie out on a little walk.

You can probably fill in the rest of the story. It ends tragically, like most of these stories tend to. Davis is heartbroken, and Charlie goes to live out the rest of his life on a farm upstate somewhere.

Apparently, it was a farm that could magically heal truck-induced trauma, but little Davis wasn’t thinking too much about that.

His life is filled with little anecdotes like that. A lot of them involve his father, and I can totally see why the two of them didn’t get along.

Around one in the morning, I find a particularly gross story. Davis is eleven, Charlie long forgotten at this point. He’s heading home from a baseball game where the coaches gave out participation awards. Little Davis runs right up to his father, excited and giddy, and shows his father the trophy.

“Isn’t it cool?” he asked his dad.

His father took the trophy, stared at it, and broke the little baseball man off the base. He smiled at his son and handed the two pieces back. “Go win some more.”

I think his father meant that as a motivational thing. I think his father was trying to get his son to work hard and earn more awards.

Instead, it just made the poor little kid cry, which only pissed his dad off more.

If there’s one thing I’m going to take away from reading this binder, it’s this: spanking your kid does not make him stop crying.

I have to shut the binder after that. I feel a little sick, a little upset. I keep thinking about that little boy, desperate for his father’s love, and getting absolutely nothing but rejection in return.

Rejection and the occasional physical punishment, of course.

I can’t help but think of my own parents. If I had a father like that, I don’t know how I would’ve turned out. I mean, they cut me off and basically kicked me out of the family when I decided to become an actress…

But at least he didn’t spank me whenever I cried. At least he showed me some affection. He’s still an asshole, but Davis’s father was worse. I can admit that.

I get out of bed and stretch. The binder drops onto the floor as I pull on some sweats and a crewneck sweatshirt over my t-shirt. Quietly, I head downstairs.

I haven’t heard from Davis since earlier. I figure he’s either not home yet or in bed, since the house has been quiet. I go into the kitchen, open the refrigerator, and pour myself a glass of white wine that’s still open from yesterday.

That’s when I realize the TV is on mute, and Davis is sitting in the living room.

“Shit,” I say, startled. “You scared me.”

He smiles. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing?”

He holds up a paperback novel. “Reading.”

“With the TV on?”

“I don’t know why, but I like to have something going on in the background.”

I sigh and put the wine bottle back into the refrigerator. I take a sip and look at him.

He’s wearing the same clothes from earlier, a bit rumpled now. There’s a half-empty glass of something brown next to him, and his eyes look tired.

“Have you been busy, little mouse?” he asks me.

I shrug. “Doing some light reading.”

“Same.” He puts a piece of paper into the book and tosses it aside. “Except this thing sucks.”

“What is it?”

“Just some historical book about a dead white dude that fought in some battle.”

“Oh, you mean, every history book ever?”

“Pretty much, yep.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It’s not, but there’s something about biographies. They always help me get to sleep.”

I laugh softly. For a second, I’m torn between going back upstairs and getting away from him and heading deeper into the living room.

I take a step toward him. I suddenly see Davis as the eleven-year-old, desperate for his father’s attention. I see him as the ten-year-old, mourning the loss of his pet. I see the child that came before the man, that lead to the man.

That formed the man.

It explains a lot about him. Davis is an asshole, but I don’t think he knows any other way. His father didn’t show him a better way, at least, and it doesn’t seem like his mother was much better.

I drift into the living room, surprising myself. I’m starting to see Davis in a completely new light.

He cocks his head, smiling slightly. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You were staring at me. I know I’m handsome, but come on.”

I bite my lip. “I’ve been reading too much about you, I think.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What were you just looking at?”

I hesitate. “I was reading about Charlie.”

He laughs softly. “That little chestnut.”

“Is it true?”

“Very true. Poor rabbit. I should’ve put it in a leash.”

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been…”

“Tough?” He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”

“Still.”

“Everyone has a fucked-up childhood, Carly. That’s what brings us all together in the end, hatred for our parents.”

I laugh softly, but inside I feel like I’m breaking apart. “That’s not really true.”

“It’s not?” He frowns. “Did you have a great childhood?”

“I mean… yeah, I did.”

“Are you sure?”

I sigh and come toward him. I sit down on the couch, leaving a cushion between us.

“My dad wanted a specific kind of life for me,” I say slowly. “But when I was younger, he really loved me. He was a good dad.”

“That’s nice,” he says. “Maybe my theory really is wrong, and I’m just the fucked-up one.”

“You’re not fucked up,” I say.

“I thought I was an asshole.”

“You are.” I hesitate. “But maybe it’s not totally your fault.”

He laughs and leans toward me. “What if you’re wrong?”

I bite my lip, meeting his gaze. My heart starts to beat quickly, although I’m not sure why. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe I really just am an asshole. Maybe I can’t blame it all on mommy and daddy.”

“Do you think that?”

He shrugs and stands suddenly. “Who fucking knows.” He grabs his drink and walks into the kitchen with it.

I watch after him. I should leave this, go back upstairs, go to sleep. But I can’t help myself.

I stand up, wine in hand, and follow him. “I don’t buy this little self-pity thing you’re doing right now.”

“You don’t?” He sighs, grinning. “Damn. Thought it might work.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, be serious.”

“What can I say? I don’t like the idea of blaming all my problems on my parents.”

“Okay, fine. It’s not all their fault. But you still have to admit, you had a really shitty childhood.”

“You won’t hear me argue that.” He puts his glass down and cocks his head. “You’re starting to feel bad for me, aren’t you?”

I hesitate a second. “Maybe for the little version of you.”

“That version’s long gone, Carly.” He steps toward me. I can feel my heart jump in my chest. I cover my excitement by sipping my wine. I try to pretend like I’m not staring at his lean, muscular body.

I try to pretend like I’m not thinking about his mouth between my legs.

“There’s only the big version now, little Carly,” he says softly. He comes closer to me, and I don’t back away. He takes the glass of wine from my hand and puts it down on the island. “I don’t need you to pity me.”

“I don’t pity you.”

“Good. I was given a lot and I’ve built even more.”

I nod, staring into his eyes. “You should be proud.”

He laughs softly and reaches out. I don’t flinch away as he touches my cheek with his hand.

“Come on, Carly. Don’t pretend like you’re starting to feel something for poor old me.”

I bite my lip. “Not even a little bit.”

“No?” He steps closer, his lips whispering against mine. “Are you sure?”

I want to push him away. I want to scream.

Instead, I step forward and kiss him.

He’s not surprised. He doesn’t even hesitate. He kisses me back, rough and hard, lips tight against mine.

A thrill runs down my spine as I wrap my arms around his neck. He stoops down, hands on my hips, his tongue in my mouth.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Kissing him here, in this house, it’s so dangerous. It’s setting a dangerous precedent.

We have to live together. We have to pretend to be married.

If we add this into the mix…

But I don’t care. I can’t help myself.

I’m not thinking about the young version of Davis anymore. I’m thinking about the man in front of me, the man that pisses me off, drives me insane, pushes my buttons, gets me soaking wet, gets me so excited I can barely breathe.

There’s only the asshole from my past, the asshole I need.

He pushes me back and I let out a gasp as he pulls off my sweatshirt. He tosses it aside, eyes hungry, hands roughly teasing my breasts through my thin cotton t-shirt.

“No bra, that’s a good start,” he whispers. I feel my ass press against the cold granite countertop. “Let’s see what else you neglected to wear.”

I groan as he slowly slides a hand down the front of my sweatpants.

He finds my panties and cups my pussy overtop them.

“How disappointing,” he whispers in my ear. “But at least you’re dripping wet.”

“No, I’m not,” I protest.

He laughs softly, teasing me with his fingers before sliding his hand down my panties. I gasp as he touches my clit, pressing against it softly, rolling around it with his middle finger.

“You’re definitely wet, little Carly,” he says. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”

“No,” I say.

“Liar. You’ve been picturing what it would be like to fuck your husband.”

“I haven’t. It’s only going to make things more complicated.”

“What’s complicated about a man fucking his wife senseless?” He laughs and slides two fingers inside of me. I gasp, grabbing onto his muscular arms tightly as he kisses my neck.

“You know what I mean. If we keep doing this…”

“You’d be lucky,” he says.

“No, I mean, it would get messy.”

“Good. Let’s make it nice and messy.” He slides his fingers out, making me groan, and teases my clit. “You seemed to like to make it messy when my cock was down your throat.”

“No,” I groan, although even I know I’m lying.

“Yes, Carly. You liked swallowing my cum, taking every last drop. And you loved it when I tongued your little clit until you came.” He teases me again before pushing his fingers inside, slowly moving them in and out, curling his fingers, teasing, stroking.

“I have an idea,” he says. “This time, I can fuck your ass, and you can clean it off with your mouth. How does that sound?”

“Davis,” I gasp.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t want that. I’ll fuck your tight little ass and make you lick it clean after I come deep inside you.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Good.” He grabs my hips and lifts me easily up onto the countertop. I stare at him, chest heaving. He rips my shirt off, pulling it up over my head. My hair spills around my bare shoulders as he bites a nipple, teases it with his tongue, and tugs off my sweats.

When he’s done undressing me, I’m naked on the granite countertop. It’s cold under my ass, but it’s hard to care about that as he spreads my legs wide and teases my pussy with a skill I’ve never felt before. His fingers move between my clit and my pussy, fucking me, rubbing me, working me.

It’s like magic. And the thought of sucking his cock after he fucks me in the ass…

I should be disgusted, turned off, freaked out. Instead, my heart’s pounding. He’s so filthy.

I love it. Oh my god, I love it.

Maybe I’m filthy. Maybe I’m fucked up.

Maybe I like it.

I kiss him, bite his lip. He grunts and pushes his fingers deep inside me, fucking me with them.

“You like it a little rough,” he says, pulling back. He slides his fingers deep and grabs my hair with his other hand. He pulls my chin up, pain flashing as he finger-fucks my pussy. “But don’t forget who controls you, Carly.”

“Nobody controls me, asshole.”

“Your husband does.”

“Fuck you.”

He smirks. “I can arrange that.”

I gasp as he pulls me off the counter, spinning me around. He bends me over and spanks my ass, hard. I turn to look at him, outraged, as he pulls his shirt off.

His muscular body is gorgeous, and all my outrage disappears. He grins, grabs my hair, spanks my ass again. It hurts, stings on my cold, bare ass. It’s going to be bright red by the time he’s done with me.

He spanks me again, again, and again. Just when I think I can’t take any more, he slides his fingers inside of me, and pleasure comes flooding through my skin.

“Oh, god,” I gasp.

“You need to learn that a little pain makes it all that much better,” he says softly. “I can push your limits, Carly. If you just let me.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I say.

“Does it matter? I know what your body wants. That’s all I care about.”

I groan as he spanks me again before rubbing my clit. I bite my lip and look at him, but he’s stepping back again.

I watch as he takes off his pants. He kicks them aside, boxer briefs on the floor. His cock is straight and hard and thick. It looks bigger than I remember.

He steps up behind me again. My eyes go wide as he teases my pussy and my ass with his huge tip.

“Think you can handle it?” he whispers.

“No,” I groan.

He presses it against my ass. “Are you sure?”

I can feel the pressure of him. “Davis,” I groan.

He spanks me again. “Don’t worry, little Carly,” he says, sliding his cock down lower, back down to my pussy. “You’re not ready for that. Not yet.”

And he presses himself inside of me.

I gasp, grip the hard countertop. I hold it tight as he slides himself deep inside of me.

I must be soaking wet because he slides in so easily.

I didn’t know I could fit a cock like that. I’ve never had a man of his size before, and it’s like he’s tearing me in half as he slowly slides deeper in and back out, his hands on my hips, his body leaning over mine.

I look back at him and he kisses me. It’s surprisingly tender as he slides himself in and out, fucking me slowly at first. I realize that he’s just getting me used to his size.

He reaches around my hips to tease my clit as he fucks me slow. I groan as the pleasure starts to come back, rolling through me in waves, mingling with the slight pain of his thick cock.

“You’re barely ready for this,” he says, and I can hear the smirk on his lips. “You can barely take me, little Carly.”

“Don’t be so cocky,” I groan in response. “You asshole.”

“You’re already losing all that pity.” He laughs, thrusts hard. I groan in response as he spanks my ass. “But don’t worry. So am I.”

He starts to fuck me faster. His hands tease my full, perky breasts, pinching my nipples, squeezing hard. I gasp as he thrusts deep, hands on my skin, rough and intense.

I roll my hips back against him. I can feel myself loosening, relaxing. Dull ache turns into dull pleasure turns into sparkling, intense joy. I roll my hips faster, pushing back against him, as he leans over me and grabs my hips.

“Look at your body,” he whispers. “Big, round, perky breasts. An ass that would drive any man insane. And these fucking hips. God damn, Carly. I married the right woman.”

“We’re not really married,” I groan.

“We’re married, and I’m taking my wife. Whether you like it or not.”

I gasp as he grabs my hair, pulling my head back. He fucks me hard now, taking my pussy deep and rough.

I buck my hips back against him. I’m not going to let him win this, not by a long shot. It’s strange, as I ride his cock, sliding back against him, how I feel suddenly competitive. But it feels so fucking good, and I want to make him come first.

I want him to fill me up. I want his cock deep inside my pussy as he fills me up.

He groans, slaps my ass. “You fucking sexy girl,” he says. “The way you move on this big dick drives me wild.”

I smirk, turn, kiss him. As he pulls back, I move forward. He slides out of me and I turn, dropping to my knees.

He looks down at me, eyes wild, on fire, as I take his cock in my mouth. I suck him fast, tasting my pussy. I love it, I clean every inch of his big cock, licking my pussy juice from his skin. He groans, pushes me deeper, slides into my throat. I gag but I keep going, sucking his cock faster.

He pulls me back, grabs my hair. He lifts me up again, up onto the counter. My legs are spread wide, my pussy swollen and begging for him as he grabs my hips and thrusts inside of me.

I groan and roll myself against him again. He kisses my lips, biting me softly, hands firm on my hips. It feels so fucking good I can barely breathe.

“I know what you’re doing,” he whispers. “You want to show me what a good wife you can be.”

“No,” I groan. “I want to make you come first.”

He laughs. “You think you can do that?”

“I know I can.”

“Go ahead. Prove it.”

I stare into his eyes and kiss him. I roll my hips as he fucks me, thrusting fast, my breasts shaking with each new press of his hips.

I’m moaning into his kiss. The competition is basically forgotten as he fucks me. I don’t know what I can do other than let him take me, let him ravish me. As much as I want to pretend like I have control, we both know the truth.

Davis is the one in charge here, and I’m just letting him have me.

It feels so good, I can’t complain. He fucks me deep and rough and I ride him back the best I can. My pussy’s spread wide, one of my legs up flat on the counter, his hands on my hips. He teases my breasts, biting a nipple, fucking me deep.

I groan and suddenly sit forward. He slides out of me again and I push him back to the couch. He grabs my hair, making me gasp.

“You still think you can win,” he says, laughing gently, dragging me to the couch. “You dirty fucking girl. I love it.”

I turn on him and push him down onto the couch. I straddle his legs and lean back, sliding down along his long, thick cock.

I shudder, groan. He grabs my hips as I start to ride him, hands on his shoulders. I push back and down, rolling my hips.

He palms my ass, spreading me open as I take his thick cock deep inside. I’m moaning, my groans spilling out from my lips, and I can’t stop myself. I can’t help it. I’m out of control and I don’t care.

He sucks my nipple, biting down, and I ride him faster. I need it so badly, I can barely breathe. I need his cock, his cum, his body. I’m sweating and panting and gasping as I listen to his skin slap against mine.

He fucks me hard, gripping my ass. “Fuck, Carly,” he groans. “You want me to come in this pussy, don’t you? You want me to fill my little wife’s tight cunt up, you dirty girl.”

“Fuck, yes,” I gasp. “You asshole. I want you to fill my pussy up.”

He spanks me, fucks me hard. I ride him faster, feeling it building, feeling the orgasm starting to grow deep between my legs.

I know it’s wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I don’t care. That only makes it so, so much fucking hotter.

I keep going. He fucks me faster, his thick cock tearing me to pieces. I close my eyes, gripping his muscular arms.

“Oh, fuck, Davis,” I gasp. “Oh, keep fucking me.”

He grabs me tight and thrusts harder. “I knew you couldn’t handle it,” he whispers in my ear just as the orgasm rips through my body.

I come hard, every muscle tensing. It’s explosive, intense, incredible. Every fiber of my body is tingling and for a second, I think I might black out.

He doesn’t relent. He fucks me through it, fucking me deep and hard and rough. It’s almost too intense, too much. He slaps my ass, though, holding me tight, thrusting deeper.

And he comes. I can feel him coming inside of me, filling me up, pushing my orgasm to a whole new peak. I groan, letting him take me, giving myself over to my new asshole husband.

Slowly we come down together. I’m sweating, panting, and my pussy’s full of his cum. He holds me tight against him, a smile on his face.

I grin right back. “You win,” I say.

“I think we both win.” He kisses me softly and holds me tight.

As much as I hate to admit it, I think he’s right.

At least, I feel like a winner in this moment, in his arms, my post-orgasm brain floating in bliss. I don’t let myself analyze or overthink any of this, I just enjoy it, being in his arms, feeling so good.