Chapter 2
CHARLOTTE
“Our anniversary is in five days.”
Interestingly, Brady remembers little things like that.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand dragging my chair closer.
“You know…” He grazed my skin, and my stomach twisted. “I hate to admit it, but you’ve been a very good girl. And good girls…” He unclasped the strap on my right hand and pulled that hand closer to his cock. “... deserve a little taste of this.”
I could not blink, breathe or think as he forced my fingers to fondle his cock tip. I remained still even when he searched for some sort of excitement in my eyes.
His breath hitched as he moved my hand to stroke his slowly hardening cock. “We have come so far, so don’t disappoint me, okay?”
Five more days, I reminded myself.
“I won’t,” I whispered, my body still mostly unmoving. Otherwise, I would have bolted my head against his.
“Good. Ugh…” He groaned as he increased the speed of my hand against his shaft. “Yes.” As he dropped a chunk of saliva to lubricate the motion, I watched his face turn hazy with lewdness. “That’s it. Make me cum, Char. Make me cum.”
It then occurred to me… That it would truly break him when I leave. My timidity fuels the power he thinks he has over me. Once I leave, he’ll definitely crumble.
Ha ha.
That’s even more reason to leave!
So, I pushed back my unwillingness and decided to give him this little moment as a parting gift.
“Oh fuck!” He beamed as I gripped him tighter and squeezed. “Your inner slut is finally revealing herself. Go faster… Yeah…” He fell on the bed while my hand did its thing.
At the same time, I deadened all my senses and chanted to myself, ‘Five more days. Five more days.’
~~~
After that handjob, Brady left with the mistress and hasn’t come home in the past four days.
So, preparing to leave has been quite easy. With a precise evasion of the surveillance cameras he installed in almost all corners of the house, to of course, keep an eye on me, I sent out my little luggage to my friend.
By the time Brady messaged that he would be back in time for our anniversary at exactly one am, I was fully ready.
Dressed in the two-piece black tweed outfit, oozing with delicate expensiveness, with three hired bodyguards standing close to me, I sat in the main living room, the envelope containing our divorce files next to me, while the distant fireplace protected my feet from the chilly air floating in.
And, at exactly one am, the rhythmic clomp of his shoes stepped into the room, his voice ringing with joy as he greeted, “Char, I have a gift for you!”
I drew a sharp breath.
“Char?” He moved closer. “Where are— Charlotte?” Brady’s voice turned cold, and I imagined he was pulling his golden-brown hair out of its ponytail. “What the heck is going on?”
My heart giddy and nervous because my freedom was very close, I rose to my feet, the feel of my fine boots adding to my confidence.
I picked up the envelope, and walked towards him after the guards parted a way for me.
“Brady Simmons.”
“Char?” With a lifted brow, he scanned the envelope I stretched to him. And with disgust, he silently questioned my outfit. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“Brady Simmons…” I swallowed the memory of how he once dragged me against the cold tiles in this very room. And I steadied my hand. “I am… divorcing you.”
After the echo of my voice vanished from my head, the room was silent. For a long time.
All he did was stare at me quite blankly. Maybe expecting me to scream: ‘It’s a joke!’
But I didn’t.
I returned his stare and refused to speak another word.
Then came his laughter.
Like a mad person, his body jerked, and his eyes taunted.
“Is this… Oh…” His laughter mixed with his words. “Are you shooting a movie, Char?”
I didn’t get angry. I remained firm.
“You heard me, Brady Simmons,” I said.
“Divorce?” He burst out another chuckle. “It did seem odd that you never asked for it all this time, so nice attempt.” He swiftly pulled off his denim jacket to reveal the white T-shirt underneath. “Take off your clothes, I need a taste of the virgin pussy I’ve been preserving.”
I didn’t move.
“Are you fucking deaf?”
I tossed the envelope at his feet.
“I am divorcing you. Sign the papers in one week or face the consequences.”
“You’re fucking serious?”
I looked away.
“Look at me, you fucking bitch!”
I still didn’t listen.
“I said…” His feet thundered closer. “Look at me!”
Through my side-eye, I saw that he raised his hand, but it never landed.
“Wh-wh…” He glared at the two men who held him back. “Oh, I see. Are these the men who shag you when I’m not around? Did they teach you to do this? And to give that handjob too?”
Already feeling tired because his rough voice was triggering things, I glanced at the men to let him go.
“Make sure you sign in a week, Brady Simmons.”
“Charlotte!” He hollered as the guards pushed him to the floor. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re my fucking property, Char! You belong to me!”
Now that sparked something in me.
I sharply turned and screamed back, “I am.... NOT your property!”
His eyes grew red and veins pressed against his forehead.
And my rage continued, “I have had enough of you and your cheating and your abuse! I need to live, Brady! I deserve a good life! I deserve fucking peace!” The tears I swore two days ago that I wouldn’t shed were now pinching the back of my throat. “You… You are a monster, Brady. And I am freaking fucking done!”
“Charlotte.” He laughed weakly, rising to his feet. He made to move closer, but a glare from the silent guards stopped him. So, from that distance, he said, “Char, I've changed. Fucking other women? That lady was the last. Placing my hand on you? I would rather hit myself. Doing-”
“Then hit yourself,” I answered.