Ch.5

Juliette

I managed to make it into the bedroom somehow, closing the door behind me and immediately heading for the shower. I shouldn't have let him corner me. Shouldn't have let him touch me between my legs. Because now I was a storm of emotions; anger, hurt, lust. Especially lust, I thought, recalling how easily he'd sank his fingers in my pussy.

The water was hot as I stepped into the shower. Too hot. My skin burned, but not enough to distract me from my hardened nipples, or swollen clit. By the time I stepped out of the shower and tied my robe around myself, I felt worse, not better. The robe lightly scratched against my nipple, the friction so tortuously delicious I almost screamed.

Damien thankfully still hadn't come up yet.

I pulled open the small drawer in my wardrobes, taking out the pink dildo laying inside of it before padding down the hallway barefoot to the guest room. I didn’t bother locking the door. At this point, I no longer gave a fuck. just wanted one moment — one single second — where I could feel something other than pain and hurt. I lay in the middle of the bed, loosening my robe and pressing my lips together as I rubbed the head of the dildo over my clit, squeezing my tit in one hand.

I threw my head back as tiny pinpricks of electricity skated up my spine. Buying down on my lower lip, I slowly sank the dildo inside my pussy. I gave myself a second to adjust to the feel of it before moving my hands back and forth as I began fucking myself with it. I was vaguely aware of a small creak sounding then, of Damien's presence by the door, but I needed my release too much to care.

Let him watch.

Just to torture him, I planted my feet firmly on the bed, spreading my legs widely as my pleasure mounted. I pushed my hips off the bed, gyrating wildly in the air with each drive of the toy inside my wet center. My moans echoed in the silence of the room, mixing with Damien's own labored breath. By the time I was coming so violently I could have sworn I saw stars, he had moved further into the room. I was still struggling to catch my breathing when I felt the bed dip at my feet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, gently gripping my ankle and prying my legs apart as I tried to close them. His eyes met mine. “Let me. Please.” He said softly. I didn't stop him. Not when he buried his tongue deep inside my pussy and ate me out like a starving man. Not when he kissed me like he hadn’t tasted anything sweeter in his entire life. Not even when he threw my legs over his shoulders and fucked me so hard, the bed began moving beneath us.

I let him love me like we weren’t falling apart. Hadn't already fallen apart. And when it was over, we stayed wrapped in each other's arms. Breathless. Silent. Sated. Eventually, his breathing slowed and he fell asleep.

I didn’t.

I slipped out of his arms just before the sun rose fully, quietly heading back to our bedroom. I needed to clear my head before facing him. I took an early shower, stepping out a few hours later and dressing in casual clothes. I needed to reach a decision, needed to remember who I was without him. I needed to remember what it felt like to be just me. I drove aimlessly at first, and then found myself parked in an open field.

I climbed down and slowly headed for one of the long benches, sitting with my arms crossed and simply watching the sky get brighter. It didn't take long until I had to leave to get breakfast. I went to a popular diner only a few blocks away. Got seated in a booth by the window, and ordered eggs and toast I knew I would hardly touch. I was still halfway with my food when Damien came on the news. Together with the woman from the bar.

The picture of them was enough to dampen my mood and cause me to lose what little appetite I'd had. The news anchor made some remarks about our marriage, before she moved on to some other gossip. The pitying glances started slowly as I turned back to my food. It first started with the waitresses, followed by the man two booths over. Soon enough everyone in the diner was taking not so subtle glances at me.

Feeling uncomfortable from all their stares, I got up and walked to the restroom, barely managing to stop myself from throwing the little I'd eaten. Still, I couldn't escape them. There were three women in the bathroom. All in their mid-thirties, talking like they didn’t have a care in the world. Which in reality, they didn't. “She gave up everything for that man." One of them was saying. "Now look at her.”

“Pathetic.”

“I mean, have some pride. The man’s obviously trying to shake her off. The least she can do is stop embarrassing herself.” And then their laughter followed. I stood quietly in that stall, my hands shaking, my eyes stinging as humiliation washed over me. It was only after they left that I stepped out and stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes had reddened, my face extremely lake.

“What are you doing?” I whispered to myself. “When did you become so weak?”

I held my own gaze firmly for a few minutes, before finally reaching a decision.

The one that was going to end it all.

I drove straight home from the diner.

Damien was about heading out, his keys in hand and his jacket half on. He froze when he saw me. I stepped beside him and marched upstairs, knowing he wasn't going to leave just yet now that he'd seen me. Pulling the drawer open, I grabbed the divorce papers and a pen. Just as I'd predicted, he was still there when I came back down. I held his gaze, and then I did what he'd been asking.

I signed the papers.

“There,” I said coldly, dropping the pen on top of the documents. “I have now officially freed you from this marriage, Damien. Just like you’ve always wanted.”