The cheap motel room reeked of stale cigarettes. Ava stared at the ceiling, its peeling paint a roadmap of her poor choices.
The memory of Mark's weight on top of her was still fresh, a phantom pressure grinding into her bones.
He had known that she was a virgin, yet there was no tenderness, no hesitation, just a brutal claiming that left her hollowed out and raw.
He had moved to lie beside her and kept kissing her neck. The kisses were wet and sloppy, a prelude to something she hadn't understood, hadn't wanted.
Then he pushed her legs apart entering her without any restraints. Pressure, then pain, a sharp, tearing sensation that stole her breath. Her eyes snapped wide, the dim light of the room suddenly too bright.
"Mark," she gasped, her hands flying from her knees to his hips. "Stop, please."
He ignored her, a machine driven by its own crude programming. He kept working his hardness deeper and deeper, pulling out and pushing in again. The pain was still there every time he moved. Each thrust was a violation, a theft of something precious she couldn't name.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to disappear. The room spun, the smell of cigarettes intensifying, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. She breathed heavily and didn't think she could take any more.
When he finished, he just rolled over, got up and started dressing. No afterglow, no words of comfort, just the cold, hard reality of what had happened. He pulled on his jeans, the denim scraping against his skin, and grabbed his jacket.
"Where are you going?" Ava's voice was barely above a whisper.
Mark didn't stop as he reached for his jacket.
"Out. Don't wait up. I will be back in the morning."
"Mark… we're married remember? This is our wedding night." She tried to steady the tremble in her voice.
He turned, his eyes devoid of warmth.
"No, Ava. We're contracted. That's all. You were part of a deal I never wanted."
She stared at him, stunned.
"I don't understand, you said you loved me."
He laughed bitterly.
"Yeah? I say a lot of things when it gets me what I want."
And with that, he left. The door clicking shut behind him, leaving Ava stunned. The echoes of her pain reverberating in the empty room.
She lay there for a long time, unmoving, the tears finally starting to fall, hot and silent, tracing paths through the grime on her cheeks. She was now Mrs Vaughn. A title she had never wanted.
....
The turquoise water shimmered under the late afternoon sun, reflecting the opulent grandeur of the mansion that loomed behind the pool. Sunlight danced on the water's surface, creating an illusion of liquid diamonds.
Julian Blackwood stayed at the edge of the pool, his gaze fixed on Aurora his girlfriend as she emerged from the depths, her blonde hair slicked back, framing her face like a raven's wing.
"God, that feels good," she gasped, pushing the wet strands from her forehead. "I needed that."
He grinned, the water rippling around his chin. "Needed what? A swim, or just to get away from your dad's endless pontificating about the stock market?"
She laughed, a sound that echoed across the manicured lawn. "Both, actually. But mostly the latter. I swear, if I have to hear one more word about leveraged buyouts, I'm going to scream."
She swam closer, her body a graceful silhouette beneath the surface. Reaching him, she looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
"So," she purred, her voice a husky whisper against his ear. "What do you suggest we do instead?"
He tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I have a few ideas..."
She nipped playfully at his earlobe. "Oh, do you now? And do these ideas involve anything... scandalous?"
"Depends," he teased, tightening his grip around her waist. "Are you feeling scandalous?"
Her eyes darkened, a playful fire igniting within them. "Try me."
He didn't need to be told twice. He leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. The taste of chlorine and something uniquely Aurora filled his senses. Her arms tightened around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss.
Her phone started ringing. Then it rang again. Aurora broke the kiss, grabbed it, and froze at the name.
"I have to go," she said, climbing out of the pool.
"You've got to be kidding me," he said.
She gave him a quick kiss. "Sorry." Then she ran.
Aurora ran across the lawn, wearing only a shirt over her wet bikini. Her feet hit the driveway fast as she jumped into a sleek black Porsche. The engine roared to life and she sped off down the drive.
Aurora pulled up to the gates of a large white house, the tires of her sleek black Porsche crunching over the gravel. The iron gates opened slowly, revealing neat lawns, trimmed hedges, and a small fountain sparkling in the sunlight.
She stepped out, still damp from the pool, her shirt clinging to her skin. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, took a breath, and walked up the steps. Before she could knock, the front door opened.
The maid greeted her, but Aurora didn't slow down. She brushed past without a word and bolted up the stairs.
A man stood on the balcony of his bedroom, shirtless, a glass of wine in one hand. The breeze ruffled his hair, sunlight casting a warm glow across his skin.
Aurora burst through the doors and leapt into his arms, wrapping herself around him without hesitation. Her legs locked around his waist, arms tight around his neck. She kissed him deeply and fiercely like she'd been holding her breath since the moment she left.
Mark stumbled back a step, his free hand catching her under the thigh, the wine glass slipping from his grip and shattering on the floor. But neither of them noticed. All that mattered was her.