Discarded Read online

  Discarded

  Part One

  Shae Banks

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Shae Banks

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.shaebanks.com

  Edits by Hourglass Editing

  Proofread by Zoe’s Author Services

  Cover Design by Wolfsparrow Covers

  Formatted by Kassie Morse

  Kristen.

  You know I’m not a hugs and kisses type, so I’ll hide this where you’ll never see it.

  Thanks for being there.

  Love ya,

  xoxoxoxox

  Chapter One

  The fairy lights on the Christmas tree twinkled, the dulcet tones of my favourite swing singer drifted through the flat as I sat cross-legged on the living room floor measuring and cutting wrapping paper.

  The boxed Caran d’Ache pen I was wrapping was stunning. I’d never seen a pen so beautifully crafted. The sleek lines and etched detail looked like it belonged on a piece of jewelry not a simple ballpoint pen.

  I couldn’t really afford it, but he was the only person I was buying for outside of immediate family, and it was something he could carry with him without it being obvious it had come from me.

  Hearing his key in the lock, I hastily wrapped the box and slapped the bow on top, stretching forward to shove it under the Christmas tree before he came into the room.

  “I could look at you all night,” he said from the living room door.

  I sprang to my feet and walked up to greet him. “I didn’t think you—”

  He cut me off with a kiss.

  One hand bunched in my hair, he stroked my cheek with the other, making his demand clear.

  I had hoped to have something to eat, spend some time together, but I had missed him as much as he seemed to have missed me, so I reached for his shirt, flicking open the buttons until I reached his belt and tugged to free the tails.

  I loved the feel of his chest beneath my hands and ran my flattened palms over the hair as I worked to push his shirt from his shoulders, but he stopped me, pulling me close, and I felt his erection through his pants.

  I’d planned accordingly, wearing a little satin negligee he’d bought me for my birthday. He leaned forward bending me over as he kissed my throat, and I was forced to hold his shoulder for support while he grasped my arse with the other.

  “Mmm, I’ve missed this,” he mumbled against my mouth.

  “I missed you,” I purred, stepping back toward the sofa.

  He followed, shrugging out of his shirt, and dropping it on the floor. “Let me see you.”

  Heart pounding, I stood motionless, watching him reach for the hem of my short nightgown.

  He wasted no time and the smooth fabric tickled my skin as he peeled it over my head.

  A thrill ran up my spine at the way he looked at me. All of me.

  It only lasted seconds before he moved, mouth claiming mine as his hand traced the trim of my panties. I reciprocated, unfastening his belt, clasp, and fly, raising one foot to rest on the sofa and give him better access to my pussy.

  Palm flat against his abdomen, I slid it into his pants and grasped his cock, but he didn’t give me time to properly feel him.

  “Turn around,” he growled, removing his fingers from my panties, having barely touched me, and gripping my hips.

  The movement was rough and fast. So fast I almost lost my balance, but he reached around to support me, pulling me back so my arse was level with his cock.

  One hand on the back of the sofa, my knees resting on the seat edge, I waited. “Johnathan?”

  I was about to turn around when he ran his cock over my slit. I wasn’t nearly as ready as I needed to be, but he pushed in anyway, groaning aloud as he finally forced his way inside.

  It was uncomfortable, and I was more than surprised. He’d never been like that before. He’d always been more attentive, more willing to wait for my body to respond accordingly. Assuming he’d missed me, I ground my hips, moving to accommodate him and reached down to find my clit. After making a few expert circles to help things along I was better prepared, and he began to move.

  With my body accommodating him, I relaxed, enjoying the feel of him inside me, longing for that promised release. It wasn’t how I’d imagined it, having planned a few hours together, but I needed him.

  The first hard thrust caught me off guard, and I had to throw up my other hand to stop myself from rocking forward too far. Holding onto the sofa with both hands, I angled my hips up as he gripped my hair and rammed into me hard.

  I knew he was going to blow without the slap to my arse and the drawn out “aaaaah.”

  When he finally released me, I hung my head, giving myself a minute. I wasn’t sure what to say, what to do. He’d lasted all of three minutes. That had never happened before, but he didn’t seem concerned and withdrew.

  I turned, curling up in the corner of the sofa, and watched him.

  Not even bothering to wash his cock, he fastened his jeans and kissed the top of my head. “I can’t stay, sweetheart.”

  “You’re leaving?” I asked, pulling my knees up to my chest. I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment.

  “Yeah, I have dinner...” he trailed off, fastening his belt.

  “You’re having dinner... tonight?” He didn’t bother to answer and began buttoning his shirt. “So you came here to g—”

  “Don’t start that shit again, Bekah. Yes, I’m having dinner with her because she’s still my fucking wife, they’re my children, and it’s Christmas fucking Eve.”

  There was no humor in my laugh as I got up and walked into my kitchen. I could feel his ejaculate seeping down my thighs but ignored it. He followed, standing at the door as I pulled a bottle of Scotch from the cupboard. I didn’t even like the stuff, I’d bought it for him to drink on the few occasions he stayed, but they were so few and far between the bottle sitting in front of me was still half full. I pulled out the cork and grabbed a glass from the drainer.

  He tucked in his shirt and watched me pour a measure and knock it back followed immediately by another before he said, “You knew what this was before—”

  I put the glass down and turned to face him. “You told me… You said…”

  The words wouldn’t come. He had told me he was getting a divorce as soon as his eldest was done with his exams. He could handle college with parents separating, but he couldn’t do it at a crucial time. The other two… well, they’d be okay. Better to go through that than grow up in an unhappy home. I’d agreed. I could wait.

  “I fucking waited, Johnathan. Three months ago, he started college, and I’m still fucking waiting.”

  Straightening his shirt sleeves, he said, “I am not prepared to discuss
this now. I have dinner. I’ll speak to you when you have calmed down.”

  “Don’t you dare, you condescending shit. You can’t do this to me. Not today. It’s Christmas, and you’re leaving me for—”

  “My family,” he said coolly. He always used the same tone when I mentioned them, as though I shouldn’t be talking about them. As though he didn’t want them and me being mixed up in the same conversation. “Yes.”

  His family. The people who would always come before me. Who he would always leave me for. Oh, the promises had been there but his words, it seemed, were eternally empty. It may have taken me a while, but the penny finally dropped. He was never leaving them. He was never going to choose me. Shit, he hadn’t even bothered to get me off. I was just a convenience.

  After all I’d done for him. I dropped everything to be with him. My already strained relationship with my family had suffered for him, I hadn’t seen my friends in over six months because plans with them would limit the time I could spend with him. He didn’t like me not prioritising him. He wanted me here waiting. I fucking complied.

  Nicky had just had a baby the last time I saw her. I’d missed the first year of his life, more or less. And Kaz. Well, I had no idea what was happening in her life. She’d stopped bothering to contact me by April, and I didn’t blame her.

  The rage was building, and I didn’t even try to stop it. I’d had enough.

  I took three steps toward him and slapped him across the face. The sound of it broke the silence in my kitchen, and his control with it.

  Gripping my wrist with one hand he pulled me toward him, taking me by the throat with the other. I didn’t have time to react, and his grip was so firm I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even swallow. My response was one of flight, but his hold kept me from running. I was trapped between him and the kitchen worktop, the pressure of his thumb on my throat increasing. There was fury in his eyes that struck even deeper fear into me, and coupled with his thumb pressing on my windpipe, I froze.

  I don’t know what he saw in my eyes, but he released me abruptly, shoving me away so that my lower back connected painfully with the worktop behind me. “Do that again, you little slut, and I will not hold back.”

  I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. Entirely naked and afraid, I wrapped my arms around myself and focused on one of the kitchen tiles by his feet. The longer I stared, the longer he stood in front of me, and the more terrified I became. My vision burred as tears welled, but I didn’t look up. I didn’t try to wipe them away either. I just stood here.

  He was still looking at me, and I began trembling. Whether it was from the cold or shock I didn’t know, but I hugged myself tighter so he wouldn’t see and tried to focus on something else.

  Anything else.

  I wanted to leave. I wanted to hide in my room and wait until he was gone, but my limbs wouldn’t work. I couldn’t do a damn thing but stand naked before him and shake. The silence in the room was crushing me. If I had the ability, I’d have run, but I was frozen. Instead I listened to the quiet tick of the clock on the wall, counting the seconds until he left.

  Thirty-three seconds of tense silence spread between us before he closed the distance between us and stroked a hand over my tousled hair. “I’m sorry, I…”

  His voice was soft. Apologetic. The fear ebbed away to be replaced with anger, but I wasn’t stupid enough to have another go. I didn’t know what else he was capable of. Instead I turned my back on him, reaching for the scotch.

  “I’ll call,” he said as I poured.

  “Don’t fucking bother,” I choked, necking my drink and pouring again. My throat was burning, my eyes still brimming with tears, but I kept drinking, it kept me from slapping his face again. That didn’t end well, clearly.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said quietly, then turned and walked away.

  I let him leave and listened for the sound of the door closing for confirmation I was alone. When I had it, I sank to the cold tiled floor and let the heavy, salty tears roll down my cheeks. What was I doing?

  “Next month,” I told myself. “It’ll be different. He’ll leave.” But it never was. He never did. All he delivered was empty words and broken promises.

  He swore it was me he wanted, but he never left. It went around and around. On and on. The only thing that really changed was the length of the time he spent with me after sex. That got shorter.

  Glass empty, I reached up for the bottle and drank straight from it. The burn in my throat was fading, replaced by a warm sensation in my stomach. It was strangely comforting in the absence of a body to snuggle up to. It was a poor substitute for closeness, for the affirmations I needed after that sort of intimacy but was almost always denied.

  It wasn’t love we shared. It never could be. Not on his part, anyway. He wanted the release. He wanted the gratification. I needed... more. The silence was broken only by the slosh of the whisky as I righted the bottle and the ticking of the wall clock. I stared at it, watching the minutes creep by. Minutes he was spending with them now that he’d taken what he needed from me.

  I didn’t begrudge his family his time. Never. It was her I had the problem with. The reason he came home with me in the first place. Her neglect pushed him into my arms, my bed. She didn’t love him. She barely tolerated him living under the same roof as her, but he kept up the masquerade for his children, and she played the game for the lifestyle. I snorted to myself. Children. They weren’t exactly toddlers.

  But he kept it up, and I kept on letting him. I kept on loving him, despite it all.

  He came and took what he needed, then discarded me to go back to his perfect family. His perfect life.

  I was just around for release. For him to get his kicks and leave until he needed it again. He was using me. I’d known it for months but couldn’t seem to let go. I couldn’t bring myself to face being entirely alone.

  No more.

  I shouldn’t have slapped him, but fuck, the way he grabbed my throat. That was the final straw.

  Alone was better than abused. Anything was better than feeling so… dirty.

  I looked at my glass. The scotch was gone, it’s warming effect wearing off. I needed a substitute. Feet cold and numb, joints aching, I hauled myself up using the worktop for support and struggled to the bathroom.

  Turning on the bath taps, I got in and pulled my knees beneath my chin as steam billowed, filling the cramped space. The water was too hot, but I didn’t bother to cool it, it was better than the icy cold of the tiled floor I’d just left.

  Heat was good. It cleansed. Washing away the feel of his body on mine. That was the last time he would touch me.

  The water was cold when I got out and went to bed.

  I tugged the comforter up over my shoulder and squeezed my eyes closed, waiting for sleep to come and take the pain away.

  Chapter Two

  There was weak sunlight coming through the window that conspired with my throbbing head to keep me from getting back to sleep. I had to get ready for work. And I should probably call my mom. No, no I wouldn’t call her, Ruth would be at the house already for the family breakfast, and I’d be seeing her tomorrow anyway. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and groaned. It wasn’t there. I had no idea where it was since I’d crawled into bed drunk only a few hours before.

  Forcing myself into the bathroom, I looked in the mirror. My dark-brown hair was a mass of tangles, the dark circles beneath my eyes dulled their usual light blue.

  My head was fuzzy, a dull ache behind my eyes. Work was going to be hell, and I swore under my breath. I’d volunteered to work Christmas Lunch. I had nowhere else to go. No one to see. I had the usual invitation to my parents’, but I declined. I couldn’t sit at the table with my sister knowing what she thought of me.

  She’d seen me with Johnathan once and noted the wedding ring immediately. I had tried to defend myself. Tried to explain. Looking back, it was ridiculous. “He’s leaving his wife.” Ruth had laughed in my face, then told me I was as
despicable as him. There was no way I could sit and eat at the same table as her after that, and she’d probably told my other sister, Trudy. No. I was better off working.

  It didn’t take long getting ready, I didn’t have time given the taxis weren’t running, and I would have to walk to the hotel. With my uniform neatly folded in my bag, I pulled on my boots and set off walking. It wasn’t far and the fresh air would do me good.

  The large town I lived in was silent. No traffic. No people. They were all snug inside their houses. Lovers sleeping late. Children tearing excitedly into their gifts. Others exchanging gifts with their families and friends. I huddled further into the hood of my coat and picked up my pace.

  The boutique hotel I worked at was an impressive Georgian town house. Once the home of a wealthy family of merchants, it had all its original features and was decorated to the highest of standards. Times changed, and the family left to move to London when the sea trade in our small harbor town died off. Still owned by the family, it was renovated by one of their descendants and became the restaurant of choice in the area for all the high earners.

  It’s how I first met Johnathan.

  I forced all thoughts of him from my mind and followed the driveway of the building to the carpark and staff entrance. I wasn’t surprised to hear the usual nineties music blaring from the kitchen mixed with the sound of male voices. Pushing back my hood, I opened the backdoor and went straight into the staff changing room.

  Once I was changed into my uniform, I went into the kitchen to let them know I was in.