Chapter 2 Disappointment Isn't An Option Here

The two escorts were already visibly tense, their anxiety written all over their faces, and the mere mention of William's name sent shivers down their spines.

Renee, her head bowed slightly, felt a surge of anger well up within her. Yet, she masked it expertly behind a veil of serenity and commanded, "You heard him, didn't you? Now that Mr. Mitchell is in the mood, you'd better be at your best—disappointment isn't an option here."

She then raised her head, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark, and flashed a coquettish wink at William. "Mr. Mitchell, consider this an invaluable lesson. You treat the bed like a battlefield—my two companions, on the other hand, know how to make a woman feel cherished. After all, we aren't your foot soldiers. While I might endure your roughness, think of your beloved. She's far too delicate for such treatment, don't you think?"

William responded with nothing more than a frigid glance. Reclining against the back of the sofa, he struck a match with a sharp flick, lighting his cigarette. A veil of smoke soon enveloped him, masking his inscrutable expression.

Renee's irritation spiked at his detached demeanor; he looked almost wounded, though she couldn't fathom what could possibly dent his icy exterior.

Impatiently, she snapped at the escorts, "Well? What are you waiting for? At Mr. Mitchell's request, show him what you've got—who knows, he might actually pick up a thing or two."

With a defiant flair, Renee tugged at the straps of her slip dress, letting them slip down her shoulders.

The men jolted with surprise, their eyes darting involuntarily towards William, whose gaze was icy and unforgiving. Instinctively, they squeezed their eyes shut.

"Uh, Ms. Carter... maybe it's best if we go."

As they stooped to gather their scattered clothing from the floor, Renee fixed them with a frosty stare that rooted them in place.

"I've told you already. Disappointment isn't an option here," she stated, her voice sharp as the winter air.

Her attention turned back to William just in time to catch a camouflage jacket sailing through the air, draping over her with precision, obscuring her view. Before she could shrug off the jacket, she was abruptly swept up by two robust hands.

"William! What on earth are you doing?!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled under the fabric.

Blind to his expression, she could only sense the intense, ominous aura radiating from him. Effortlessly, he slung her over his shoulder, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his fingertips.

In a swift motion, he extinguished the cigarette on the back of one of the men, eliciting a sharp yelp. Simultaneously, his boot connected with the other man's knee, causing a stifled groan of agony to fill the room.

Ryland, who had been nervously lingering by the door, stepped forward in alarm. "Mr. Mitchell, please, let's resolve this peacefully," he pleaded, his voice quivering.

"Get out of my way!" William's command was a low rumble, more animal than human, that sent Ryland stumbling back in fear. Helplessly, he watched as William maneuvered Renee into the back of the jeep, her protests fading into the night.

The engine roared as the vehicle surged forward, a reflection of the driver's burning temper. As Renee collapsed onto the plush, crimson bedspread, the effects of the evening's alcohol started to fade.

Her eyes fluttered open, fixing on the ornate bed in the master bedroom—an emblem of union they had never truly shared since their marriage. The irony stung, blending seamlessly with her sorrow. Their three-year union was not a sexless one. The rare times William came home from his military duties, their encounters, though heated and passionate, were just fleeting moments of intimacy. Yet, their living arrangements spoke volumes—they maintained separate rooms, with this room remaining untouched by either.

But tonight, William's demeanor was unhinged, as he dragged her into this "sacred" space and threw her onto the bed without hesitation.

"William, what the hell are you thinking?" Renee gasped, her voice a mix of bewilderment and fear.

She barely managed to prop herself up when he loomed over her, his gaze wild and red-rimmed.

"Get ready, because I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging for more," he declared, his words seething through clenched teeth as he ruthlessly ripped her dress strap by strap.

"So, Renee, you were saying I was too rough, is that it?" he huffed, his breath hot against her ear, his teeth lightly grazing her earlobe in a chilling caress. "I'm gonna fuck you nice and easy tonight—make you feel every damn second of it."

Trapped beneath his weight, Renee writhed futilely, her struggles inadvertently drawing them even closer. As he tenderly grazed her earlobe with a punitive lick, his voice cut through the air, icy and stark.

"Remember, you're a married woman."

Just then, the shrill ring of his phone pierced the tense air. Although he wanted to dismiss it, the insistent buzzing from his pocket—just as he was about to undress—compelled him to reach for his phone with visible impatience. Recognizing the caller ID, his expression softened slightly.

With a wry, self-deprecating smirk, Renee peeked at his phone screen. Unsurprisingly, it was his childhood sweetheart calling.

Her voice dripped with irony as she retorted, "Seems you've forgotten you're a married man."

His eyes flickered to her, but before he could gauge her next move, Renee snatched his phone and answered the call with deliberate calm.

"Hello, Sylvia," she called out evenly.

There was a brief pause as Sylvia Payne processed the unexpected voice. "Renee... hi," she stammered, her words stumbling over the shock.

Upon catching William's resigned look, Renee's smile twisted into a sly grin. "Yeah, it's me. Sorry, but William and I are a little busy right now. You know how horny couples get after some time apart—it's like a damn craving that needs to be satisfied. He's got his mouth all over me, so I doubt he'll be able to answer his phone anytime soon."