Too Late To Love Your Mute Wife

Godfrey stood under the showerhead, letting the freezing water hit his back. He braced his hands against the wet tile, his head hanging low.

A sudden, unnatural heat flared in the pit of his stomach. It was not the warmth of the alcohol. It was a sharp, burning sensation that quickly spread outward, rushing through his veins like liquid fire.

He reached out and twisted the faucet, shutting the water off completely. He stood in the dripping silence, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.

The heat intensified. His muscles tightened, and a heavy, thick fog began to cloud his brain. He recognized this feeling. It was a chemical reaction. The smoothie.

He grabbed a white towel off the rack and wrapped it tightly around his waist. He shoved the bathroom door open, the wood hitting the wall with a loud crack.

He marched into the bedroom. Aubree was standing by the bed, pulling the duvet up to smooth out the wrinkles.

Godfrey crossed the room in seconds. He reached out and grabbed the back of her neck. His fingers dug into her skin, his grip completely unforgiving.

Aubree let out a silent gasp. She twisted her body, her eyes wide with pure terror as she looked up at his bloodshot eyes.

He threw her forward. She landed hard on the center of the massive mattress, her body bouncing slightly against the expensive springs.

Godfrey turned to the nightstand. He yanked the top drawer open so hard it nearly fell off its tracks. He reached inside and pulled out a small, partially opened square box.

It was a box of condoms with a broken safety seal.

He held it up to the overhead light, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the shiny foil wrapper he pulled from inside. He turned it slowly.

There, near the top edge, was a tiny, almost invisible prick. A needle hole.

Godfrey felt a violent, uncontrollable energy explode inside his chest. The dark storm he kept hidden from the world surged forward, fueled by the strange chemical fire in his system and the physical evidence in his hand. The herbal detox blend she had made had never reacted like this before, but mixed with the sheer volume of aged whiskey he had consumed, it had created a volatile, blood-heating cocktail.

He threw the foil packet directly at Aubree's face. It hit her cheek and bounced onto the white sheets.

"Is this how desperate you are?" he roared, his voice shaking the windows. "You spike my drink and poke holes in the protection just to get your filthy hands on the trust fund?"

Aubree looked down at the small foil square. Her pupils dilated in absolute shock. She had never seen that box before. She remembered Genevieve's housekeeper lingering in their bedroom that morning, supposedly dusting the nightstands. The realization hit her like a freight train-Genevieve had planted the tampered box to force the issue of an heir, knowing Godfrey would instantly blame Aubree for the deceit. She had no idea what he was talking about.

She scrambled backward against the headboard. She raised both hands, shaking her head violently. I did not do this. I swear.

Godfrey did not care about her moving hands. The volatile mixture of alcohol and the unexpected chemical reaction from the herbs was completely taking over his nervous system, erasing whatever thin line of control he usually maintained.

He climbed onto the bed, his large knees sinking into the mattress. He grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and slammed them down into the pillows above her head.

His massive body covered hers, pinning her down completely. The weight of his chest crushed the air out of her lungs.

"You want a child so badly?" he hissed, his face buried in the crook of her neck. "Fine. I will give you exactly what you want."

Tears spilled out of Aubree's eyes, running down her temples and soaking into the pillowcases. She shook her head, her body thrashing weakly beneath him.

Godfrey reached down and grabbed the collar of her silk nightgown. He pulled his fist back, tearing the fabric straight down the middle.

The sound of the silk ripping was deafening in the quiet room. The cold air hit her bare skin, making her shiver violently.

He did not wait. He did not prepare her. He forced himself into her with a brutal, punishing thrust.

Aubree arched her back off the mattress. A blinding pain shot through her lower body, tearing her apart. Her mouth opened wide, but her damaged vocal cords refused to produce a single sound.

Godfrey moved with a wild, uncontrollable rhythm. The drug drove his actions, turning the act into pure physical violence.

The heavy wooden bedframe slammed against the wall with every thrust, creating a rhythmic, sickening thud that filled the room.

Aubree squeezed her eyes shut. She bit down on her lower lip so hard that the skin broke. The metallic taste of hot blood filled her mouth, but she kept her teeth locked together, enduring the absolute destruction of her body.