Page 61 of Maverick
It was why he had whores in and out of here. I’d never been good enough to fulfil his dark desires. Maverick had made me feel like I was enough.
I had been enough for him.
And I left.
The silent tears skating down my face were for him, for what I lost, for Van.
Not for this piece of shit who thought he owned me.
Even if he did right now.
“I do have other uses for you, don’t worry. Lots of men who would pay for a piece of Thomas Charman’s daughter, maybe they’ll share you around.”
I suppressed the need to shudder. It wasn’t an empty threat.
Van was safe.
That was the only thing I could be worried about, but I knew he was safe, and eventually he would forget the mama who couldn’t be strong enough to save herself.
The door opened behind him, and I turned my head to see a woman I recognised moving toward us. She wore a tiny bodycon dress that accentuated every curve of her body.
“Here, baby,” she crooned at myhusband. She handed him a large brush you would clean your car with, with an elongated stick and firm bristles. “How much longer? I miss you.”
“Fuck off, Carmen,” he said, without sparing her a glance. She’d been the woman I’d see him bring home and fuck all over our furniture without a care in the world that we had a toddler in the house. Carmen pouted and moved out of the room, just as he connected the brush to the end of the hose. Dread curled tight in my chest, unsure of what he had planned, but already knowing I was going to hate whatever he had in store for me.
“Now, I have to make sure you’re clean of biker diseases,” he said, a smirk laying into his tone. “Wouldn’t want to give thosebuying your services anything to complain about, now would we?”
I wanted to spit in his face, to tell him he was repulsive, that I knew Maverick would come for me and would burn down the entire corporation he ran.
But that was a lie I was telling myself.
He wasn’t coming.
No one would save me.
I was doomed.
As he turned the hose back on, I saw the soap foaming on the brush bristles and I knew what he was going to do. My body shook with the knowledge of what was coming. Hardy moved behind me, bending me over, so I couldn’t see what was coming, before I felt the rough bristles on my bare back. He scrubbed with force, burning my skin with the brush as he “washed” me clean. I could hear his grunts of pressure as he scrubbed for a reaction, but I gave none, feeling my skin be rubbed raw.
I bit down on my lip, stopping the scream from erupting from my throat. Hardy grunted as he continued, lathering my skin, sore and I was sure red raw, and spraying the suds off. He moved down my thighs, scrubbing hard on the sensitive flesh there, almost eliciting a cry but I bit it back, enduring the pain yet again.
I could tell it was pissing him off. He wanted me to cry, to scream, to beg.
I refused to.
He turned the brush upside down, and I almost copped a mouthful of soapy suds as he started to scrub my body from underneath. My breasts, my tummy, and my arms.
My body was weakening, my knees threatening to give way, but I held strong, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
Eventually, the scrubbing stopped, and I was still standing, on shaky legs, but they were holding strong.
I could hear him panting from his efforts to break me, annoyed that I hadn’t. Then. I felt the brush on my ass, between my cheeks.
“Missed a spot.”
My eyes widened as he turned the hose part on and squirted it directly into my asshole, then lower. I grunted from biting down on my lip, tasting blood, before I felt him scrub harder over my ass cheeks and down lower, essentially scrubbing all memory of Maverick from my body.
Now that…was what broke me.
