Light

14

Yury

I sit in our living room waiting for her to come home. This woman has been starving me of her affection. Fucking hell she hasn't even smiled at me once and its been almost there months since her kidnaping.

She refuses to sleep in the same bed as me using the excuse "I fell asleep on the sofa while watching tv." Even tho the TV doesn't even get turned on when she comes home. I haven't touched her in three god damn months and I'm starting to go mental.

The room is cold. The whole penthouse is cold without her here and I've been told that recently I've been getting more and more violent. Probably due to being on withdrawal of my fucking wife, which lives in the same fucking apartment as me.

I take a sip of my half empty glass of vodka. At this point I had drank half the bottle. I wasn't drunk. I was as sober as a fucking human could be. I swirled the translucent liquid in my hand glaring at the glass. I didn't know why I was glaring but I was. I was pissed about her not giving me kisses. or letting me even fucking look at her smile.

I hear her key click into place as she opens the door and turns on the lights. Her eyes land on me immediately. They narrow once they take in my state. My hair wasn't as neat as usual, it was a little disheveled, my dress shirt unbuttoned almost all the way.

"Where were you?", I asked her, with a grim expression on my face. My eyes scan her from top to bottom and then they land on her right hand. "I was out.", she replied with a monotone voice as she took off her heels and trench coat. "I figured as much. Where were you?", I repeated myself as my voice dropped a few tones. "At the bar, with friends", she answered as she walked into the kitchen.

She wasn't wearing her wedding ring, nor was she wearing our engagement ring, which pissed me off to an extend none of you could imagine.

"Which friends?", I asked her as I took another sip. She ignored the question all together and just got herself a cup of water. So I got up and followed her into the kitchen.

Her perfume filled my senses as I stepped into her proximity. It didn't smell like usual. It smelled more masculine, like she'd been in close proximity with another man. This woman is the death of me. I couldn't stand behind her like this as she ignored me for no god damn reason.

Friends often meant men and women, or only women and I wasn't going to discard the fact she's so dry. There was no way in hell that she was drunk. "With who were you at the bar, Nora?", I repeated myself my tone dropping to an even darker and huskier voice.

"Mind your business.", she states as she tries to walk past me. My impatience gets the better of me and I wrap my hand around the back of her neck pulling her towards me and pressing her against the kitchen counter. My whole body pressing against hers.

"With who were you out? Were you out with other men? Do I need to go out there and chop some random dudes fucking hands and dick off for talking to my fucking wife?", I asked her. My tone dropping to a dangerous snarl as I look at her.

My free hand trails down her side and to her leg. "I wasn't with other men."; she snarls back at me, clearly pissed that she's now trapped by me, with no way to escape other than to start a fight she will lose.

"Didn't I tell you not to leave the god damn house without the ring on?", I snarled into her ear as I slowly pushed up her skirt lightly letting my fingers trail over her thighs. "Do you need me to remind you who's wife you are?", I asked her as my fingers slowly trailed over her thong. "Mhm?", I hummed as I applied a small amount of pressure onto that bundle of nerves, which made her clutch onto the kitchen counter and drop her head back onto my shoulder.