Scandalous Games: Chapter 43

“Motherfucking hell,” I mutter to myself as I flush the toilet and amble to my office.

Nothing makes my day turn hellish than when it’s the first day of my period, especially when they surprise me while I’m at work. The bane of every woman on the planet’s existence.

I dread them almost as much as they’re a relief when I tick it off every month. Because the alternate possibility is worse. Actually, they are a pain in the ass either way. I don’t care if I sound whiny.

Because hello, mood swings.

Also, I happen to have the worst case of cramps. Or perhaps I have a lower pain threshold. Either way, I have every right to complain.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes as another painful cramp hits my stomach and I take a deep breath. My colleagues are already staring at me weird as I hobble my way to the elevator, not caring I’m leaving in the middle of the day.

I need my bed, comfort food aka burgers, and sleep. Stat.

“Bianca, I needed a favor—”

“Text me,” I cut off the new girl who joined today and I wince when my voice comes out rude. “Sorry, I’m not feeling good.”

“Oh, no problem. I’ll ask someone else.”

I nod with a forced smile and enter the elevator before pressing the button for the parking lot. First day of my cycle is always straight out of a nightmare for me and by the end, I look like someone hit me with a truck and dragged my body through the dirt.

As soon as I get behind the wheel, I throw my purse in the passenger seat and turn on the ignition. Switching on the radio, I pause on the channel playing some current hit song to distract myself from the building ache in my lower belly.

Organizing the engagement party has taken the majority of my time that I completely forgot about my period since I usually take a day off to rest at home.

Liar. Party wasn’t the only distraction, my brain taunts.

Fine. So maybe dirty thoughts of Dash has been plaguing and frustrating me. The infuriating man hasn’t attempted to fuck me after igniting a fire and thirst that my own hands can’t quench since Paris. In his defense, we hardly got a chance.

I’m still mad and horny.

After we’d come back to the apartment from dinner the other day, a deep and an unbidden sexual need had stirred in my pussy. Something about the way he had defended me made the feminine parts of me swoon. The sheer display of his dominance and protectiveness—it turned me on.

I finally understood why women fawned over commanding and domineering men. Since, evidently, I’ve fallen prey to the same.

Dash’s desire was mirroring my own. His expression screaming he was waiting to get me alone, seconds away from ripping my clothes off to finally lay his claim. One step was all we had taken before his phone rang, interrupting us like a cruel twist of fate.

Apparently, there was an emergency at his headquarters which required him to travel immediately. A wave of pining had hit my chest with a force of a thousand bolts because I didn’t want to watch him go.

I realized with a clarity that I was circling back to my old self and that a simple crush was blossoming into something more. Something scary.

It was at the tip of my tongue to ask him to stay.

But I shoved that urge down.

It was the perfect reality check and maybe distance from him would be good so I could lock my heart again. Though, I kept these thoughts to myself while he packed his bags, glancing at me every so often.

A soft, sensual and drugging kiss was all he had gifted me before he left.

I didn’t count on the desperation with which I would miss him. Four days have gone by since he left and every night I come home to an empty apartment, I feel his absence in the quietness. Sleeping alone has become a daunting task without Dash to curl up with and his strong arms holding me protectively.

When I had teased him the other day that he must be enjoying having the bed alone and not having me cuddle into him like a koala since he hated it, he had rendered me stunned by confessing it was growing on him. And that when he comes back, he’s spending the whole weekend with me sleeping in bed because he’s unable to get any sleep there.

Am I bad for secretly loving the fact that he was missing me too?

The wait will finally be over tonight. Because I woke up to his text that breathed life into me again.

DARLING HUSBAND: I want you naked on my bed when I come home tonight, wifey.

A rush of arousal had arisen when I saw he had managed to change his name from “Bossy Fiancé” to “Darling Husband” in my phone behind my back. And no, I didn’t revert it back to the original name. I physically couldn’t.

I assumed his flight was arriving at night but he had surprised me when he told me that it was early in the morning and that he’ll be going straight to Kian’s office for a meeting with him and his team. I hated it but at the same time, I was relieved he didn’t come straight to me because I need to get my bearings.

It was a likely possibility I would have jumped straight into his arms if he had.

The urge is that strong.

I also had the worst case of butterflies in my stomach because even away, he constantly smothered me with his texts, calls, and video calls. Like he was going through the same withdrawal I was. Like he felt as miserable as I did.

He’s too perfect at being a fake husband and pretending that what we have is real.

That our bond is more than lust and fatal attraction.

Or maybe it stopped being ‘pretend’ a while ago… Before I can dare to admit it to myself, I arrive at my apartment building and a few minutes later, take the elevator up to my floor. It’s funny how easily I’ve forgotten my old apartment as my home. When I had gone downstairs one day, it hadn’t felt the same or brought the same feelings to rise in my chest.

Until this morning, I was brimming with giddy excitement and actually considered surprising Dash by waiting for him naked. But my stupid period has ruined all my naughty fantasies. Naked and surprise never works in my favor, it seems.

I may sound desperate for his touch, something he easily turns me into with a few filthy words. After all, he has already fucked me. But anal doesn’t count. I might be the first woman to let a man fuck her ass instead of her pussy after meeting him after years and enjoying it.

Then again, nothing about him and I is conventional.

The lock clicks and I push the door open before throwing my purse carelessly on the cream-colored sofa. I forget to walk slowly when pain hits my lower stomach as I take hurried steps, desperate to find the bed instead of going to the kitchen.

I’ll order from the bedroom.

As soon as I enter it upstairs, tiredness hits me with a force and without bothering to change my clothes, I throw myself on the bed and curl into a comfortable ball. My plan is to always sleep to avoid the worst waves of cramps. Basically, I turn into a live robot, not moving unless absolutely necessary.

Switching on the AC to full blast and turning off the lights, I hike the blanket over my shoulder and will myself to nap. It doesn’t take long before I’m halfway asleep with Dash and anticipation for his arrival on my mind.

In my hazy state, I feel I should probably leave him a text but my phone is downstairs.

Never mind, he’s always late anyway.

***

A frenzied and worried voice penetrates through the fog of my peaceful slumber, followed by warm hands pushing my hair back from my face. I push them away when it tickles, not wanting to be disturbed. My whole body aches and if I wake up, it’s only going to get worse.

But those grabby hands are insistent and strong, and they actually feel nice.

“You’re worrying me, kitten.” The soft voice stirs me. Am I dreaming of Dash? “Wake up, please.”

I blink my eyelids open, trying to recognize my surroundings through the blurriness. My thoughts are all frayed and when Dash’s pinched face comes in my line of vision, I jerk awake with a startle.

“Dash.” My voice comes out scratchy as I sit up in bed. I swallow the dryness in my throat before asking in a daze, “Is it night already?”

“No. It’s the middle of the day.”

“Then… why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at your meeting?”

“You didn’t pick up my calls.”

“Huh?”

“I texted and then called you several times but they went ignored,” he explains, the angles of his face tight with a mixture of tension and anxiety. His right palm cups my cheek, observing me unnervingly. “Why do you look so pale?”

My stomach chooses the moment to throb in pain and it makes my eyes sting. I hide my gaze, not wanting Dash to notice and give an explanation.

“I’m fine. I left my phone downstairs.” I turn sideways, making his hand drop. “You should go to your meeting.”

“Stubborn girl. I don’t give a fuck about my meeting,” he growls, pulling me onto his lap when I move to slide off the bed by using the momentum in his favor. Tilting my eyes back to his, he confesses, “You nearly gave me a heart attack when I couldn’t get in touch with you. Do you realize that? Then I find you passed out in bed and looking sick. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“What? No.” I push at his chest when he goes to stand. My cheeks flame in slight embarrassment and playing with the top button on his shirt, I say in one long string of words. “Itsmytimeofthemonth.”

“You’re going to have to speak slowly, kitten.”

Kill me now. “I am menstruating, okay? They make me sleepy and achy. I don’t need a doctor.”

At first he appears lost and shocked, making my lips twitch. It’s plain as day that he’s never been around a woman at a time like this. I would find it a whole lot funny if pain wasn’t rising with every breath I take.

“What do you need then?” he asks after a long pause, still looking worried.

I can’t resist placing a soft kiss on his mouth, shocking him into silence, as I whisper, “Sleep but since you’ve woken me up, I’m going to take a shower.”

I swing my legs to the floor from his lap and he reluctantly lets me go while watching me carefully as though I’ll disappear. My heart swoons behind my rib cage that he left his important meeting and came straight for me. No one has ever put me first like he does.

At this rate, he’s going to break down the walls I’ve constructed around my heart.

Or maybe, that’s just my hormones talking. Yep, that must be it.

“I swear I’ll be fine, Dash. Seriously, go back to your meeting,” I call out over my shoulder as I gingerly amble to the bathroom, hoping a shower will provide me much-needed relief.

“Take your shower, kitten.” He sighs. Jeez, and he calls me stubborn.

“Oh god!” I mumble, staring in horror at my reflection in the mirror. My hair looks like a bird’s nest while mascara is smudged around the corners of my eyes. Don’t even ask about my ashen cheeks, the color dull.

And my husband saw me like this. Ugh. So unfair.

Dumping my clothes in the hamper after quickly taking them off, I stand under the shower and sigh in pleasure as the hot water hits my skin. Some of the tension melts from my muscles and I take my time scrubbing my skin. Despite the discomfort, filthy thoughts of Dash’s mouth, his cock, run rampant in my mind, igniting a low throb in my core.

Instead of relieving the ache, I end my shower, dry myself, and put on a bathrobe before I pad outside. I find Dash sitting on the edge of the bed, where I left him, and he looks up at the sound of my footsteps.

His piercing eyes darken in lust at my hidden nakedness but his concern for my health wins as he doesn’t roam his gaze down the length of my body. I notice he has lost his suit jacket, remaining in a white dress shirt, which is plastered to his muscular physique.

Crossing the distance, he massages the back of my neck. “Feeling better?”

“Mmhmm,” I moan, his expert fingers working their magic.

“Have you eaten anything?” My stomach growls in answer and I close my eyes as he chuckles. “Want me to make you a sandwich?”

I make a scrunched-up face at the suggestion. He quirks a brow, his expression soft and adoring.

“Or… I could order you a burger.”

His phone rings, interrupting us as it vibrates against my leg from the inside pocket of his pants. I pull back and tell him, “I’ll order. Why don’t you take the call?”

“Get dressed while I do,” he orders, walking toward the balcony with his phone already attached to his ear.

After changing into my comfy shorts and one of Dash’s T-shirts I’ve been sleeping in every night while he was gone, I head downstairs. There’s a skip in my step at having Dash back home.

The distance has done the exact opposite of what I had hoped.

My phone is in my purse where I left it so pulling it out, I make myself comfy on the couch. The cramps are a dull throb now but if I don’t eat something soon, that’ll change. I quickly open the online food app and scan for my favorite restaurant.

Scrolling down, I click Reorder since I always order the same, only to frown when it comes up empty. My already turbulent mood deflates. I search twice but no, the one chicken burger that I loved is gone. Just like the chicken wings and special chutney they took off their menu a few months ago.

To make matters worse, my cramps skyrocket and I clutch my stomach while bending at the waist. It’s like I’m triggered and the tears I was holding at bay drip down my cheeks. Deep breaths don’t help and I remember I ran out of my pain tablets last month.

Fucking shit.

Dash finds me with my head hanging between my shoulders and I’m pretty sure I’m back to looking like a disgruntled mess. I watch him lower to his knees and rest his palms on my thighs.

“Kitten, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Hiccups lace my voice.

“Is it the pain? Is it always this bad?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine,” I mumble.

“Then why are you crying?”

“You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“Look at me,” he orders. My blurry gaze meets his and he coaxes, “Tell me.”

“They stopped making my favorite burger.” God. I sound silly saying it out loud. He’s going to think I’m crazy but I’m too upset over the news to care. Those people should’ve given me a damn warning or a notice or something.

I expect Dash to laugh or tease. Instead, he shrugs. “Then order from another place.”

“You don’t get it.” I shake my head.

“Kitten.”

“Go away, Dash.” I remove his hand and lie down, facing away from him.

“Eat something before you sleep.”

“I’m not hungry,” I snap, while knowing I’m being rude. This is why I tend to stay alone on days like these. I don’t have the patience to deal with anyone.

Dash intelligently doesn’t push, and I hear clothes rustle as he stands to his feet. Then a second later, I hear the front door slam shut.

Great. I’ve finally succeeded in scaring Dash away.