Chapter 12: The Punishment
The clock on the nightstand read 11:47 PM. Adrian lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his body humming with an unspent tension that had followed him home like a specter. The house was quiet—too quiet—the kind of silence that made every creak of the old floorboards sound like a scream.
Evelyn shifted beside him, her hand finding his chest in the dark.
"You're still awake," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
He turned his head, looking at her in the dim light filtering through the curtains. She was beautiful in that soft, unguarded way—her blonde hair mussed, her face relaxed, her lips parted slightly. She looked like the cover of a romance novel, all gentle curves and innocent warmth.
And all he could see was Raven.
"Work," he said. "The O'Hara project. Deadlines."
She propped herself up on one elbow, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. "You work too hard."
"I know."
"Come here." She leaned in, her lips brushing his jaw. "Let me help you forget."
He should have said no. He should have rolled over, pretended to sleep, let the moment pass. But his body was still on fire from earlier, still aching with the need Raven had stoked and left untended, and Evelyn's touch was kindling.
He kissed her.
It started soft, gentle, the way he usually kissed her. But something was off. His hands found her hips, pulling her closer, and there was an edge to his touch that made her gasp.
"Adrian—"
"Shh." He rolled on top of her, his mouth finding her throat, her collarbone. "I need you."
She moaned softly, her legs parting beneath him. "I'm right here."
He pushed her nightgown up, bunching the silk around her waist. She was always so ready, so eager to please, and tonight that willingness felt like a drug. He closed his eyes, and suddenly it wasn't Evelyn beneath him.
It was Raven.
It was Raven's dark hair fanned across the pillow. Raven's pale skin flushed with heat. Raven's wicked smile curling as he pushed inside her with a single, brutal thrust.
"Oh—" Evelyn gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "God, Adrian—"
He knew he was hurting her. He could see it in the way her eyes flew open, in the way her mouth formed a silent O of surprise. But he couldn't stop. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Raven. Every time he moved, he imagined it was her cunt wrapped around him, tight and slick and perfect.
"You feel so good," he growled, the words meant for someone else.
"I love you," Evelyn whispered, her voice trembling. "I love you so much."
He drove into her harder, the rhythm turning punishing. Her soft moans became sharp little cries, her body rocking beneath him like a ship in a storm. He didn't care. He couldn't care. All he could see was Raven's face, all he could hear was Raven's voice telling him she'd give him something to remember.
"How many times did you dream about this?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "How many nights did you lie awake thinking about me inside you?"
"What?" Evelyn's eyes were wide, confused. "Adrian, what are you—"
"Answer me."
"I... I think about you all the time. I love you."
"Say my name."
"Adrian—"
"No." He slammed into her, making her cry out. "Say my name."
"Adrian! Oh God—Adrian!"
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
He reached down, grabbing her hips and tilting them higher, driving himself impossibly deeper. She was crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she was also moaning, her body betraying her confusion with pleasure.
He came with a guttural groan, spilling inside her, collapsing onto her sweat-slicked body. For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then, softly, Evelyn spoke.
"Adrian?"
He rolled off her, landing on his back, his chest heaving.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice small and fragile.
"I'm fine." He stared at the ceiling. "Go to sleep."
She hesitated, her hand hovering over his arm before pulling away. He heard her shift, felt the mattress dip as she turned her back to him. The silence that followed was heavier than the one before.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, and felt the first cold tendrils of self-loathing wrap around his throat.
---
The Blackwood Tower rose against the morning sky like a monument to ambition. Adrian stood at the window of his office, coffee in hand, watching the city stir to life below. He hadn't slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Raven's knowing smile. Every time he blinked, he saw Evelyn's tear-streaked face.
His phone buzzed on the desk.
Raven: I'll be in at 9. We need to discuss the Milan trip.
He stared at the message. Milan. He'd almost forgotten. A week of meetings, site visits, and hotel rooms in Italy. A week alone with Raven, away from Evelyn, away from his carefully constructed life.
What had he agreed to?
A knock at the door. He didn't turn.
"Good morning, Mr. Blackwood."
Her voice was a live wire running straight to his groin. He took a slow sip of coffee, steeling himself.
"Morning."
She moved past him, setting a stack of papers on his desk, her perfume trailing in her wake. When she turned to face him, he saw it immediately—the knowing glint in her eye, the slight curve of her lips.
"You look terrible