This wasn't her Carter.

Their tongues tangled together, stirring a haunting lust within she had long tried to suppress.

There was a wrongness in the way he bit her lower lip, hungrily reeling her back when she tried to break the kiss. In the way her breath escaped into his mouth as his hand slipped beneath her panties.

Not wrong because it didn't make her shiver. Not because it wasn't exactly the kind of passion she fantasized about. The kind that came alive when she locked herself in the bathroom after a long day. No. This was everything Charli craved.

Wrong because in nearly three years of sharing a bed, she'd never found a single shard of this desire. In their marriage, he had never made her feel this way — a woman.

"You're so fucking wet for me..."

He held up his fingers, studying the nectar that coated them. Hers.

He hummed in approval after a taste and returned to her. Two fingers brushed her mound and traced the slick curve of her folds. Suddenly, everything was right again.

"Cart-" She was interrupted by her own moan as he slipped inside. Calling him by his own name felt like lying.

If Charli were to describe their sex life in one word, 'utilitarian' would be it. Infrequent encounters, over the moment he finished. Two to five minutes in, a single groan would break the silence and the jackhammer thrusts stopped. He rolled over to the side and switched off the bedside lamp. Sometimes she even got a mumbled 'good night'.

By the time she came back from washing up, her husband was usually already snoring beside a pile of used shirts. Shirts he seemed incapable of ever putting in the laundry bin.

Tonight, 'euphoric' was the only word that fit.

His thumb teased her clit with tender care, pressing harder as the heat rose to her flushed cheeks. Just when she was about to scream, he slowed down, softening his touch. Carter held her right on the edge. Making her beg.

"Oh God!" She whimpered, twisting her leg around his. "I want you inside me, baby..."

The words came out so easily.

"Not God. You say my name." He tilted her chin up to meet his darkened, empty eyes. The smirk that didn't belong on his face. She wanted to look away, but his hand pinned her in place.

"Pray to me."

Her mouth fell open. Whoever this was, it couldn't be the man she knew. And still, she found the shock on her face giving way to a wicked smile.

"Please. Please fuck me, Carter."

He growled, sweeping the books from his desk to the floor. The same dark oak he now bent her over.

They'd never done it anywhere but the bed. Never been the adventurous couple.

She recalled the night of their first anniversary. The tight dress she'd bought for the occasion. The black silk that fit her like skin. The way confidence had made her reckless enough to dare ask him to grab her throat. He stopped immediately and left the room. Left her alone again, wondering what she'd done wrong this time.

The next Sunday after service, the pastor's wife called her aside. She went on in great detail about the duties of a proper, modest Christian wife. Charli nodded along apologetically. When it was over, Carter was already waiting for her outside. He didn't have to say a word, but the message was loud and clear.

She didn't bother trying the second year.

SMACK.

Charli startled at the sting of Carter's palm landing on her bottom, demanding her full attention. She moaned for more. He had a different idea.

Tingling with a blend of pain and anticipation, she felt the solid weight of his shaft settle between her cheeks. He didn't push in. Instead, she got slow, maddening strokes of his tip against her entrance until her need dripped on the carpet beneath.

She opened her mouth to beg again. His hand came around. He thrust into her at the same time, muffling her pleas against his fingers.

He moved with deliberate restraint first. Inch by inch, he sank into her heat. Pulling back just long enough for her to feel the void left by his cock, aching from the emptiness. Then filling her again. Deeper each time. Rougher.

"Mmm. You're taking it so well, baby."

Charli's walls clenched around him in response. Stringing her words together was impossible. All she could do was hold on.

Then, relentless rhythm. He drove into her with his full length. With each rocking of his hip, he pulsed thicker inside her. Fingers tangled in her dark curls, pulling her head up from the desk she'd been drooling on, forcing her to look. Charli gripped the polished edge to brace herself.

Her gaze fell on an old portrait. Their wedding day. Whatever memory she had of Carter was annihilated by the presence currently ravaging her.

Last night, she'd prayed through tears. That her husband would desire her. To be the only thing that mattered to him. His intoxication and sustenance.

Thunder struck as Carter wrapped his fingers around Charli's neck and tightened, sending her over the edge.

Their bodies moved as one in unholy union.

She gasped for air, eyes rolling back.

He gripped tighter still, kept pounding. Feral growls unlike anything she'd ever heard from any man.

Her bare feet curled as her legs trembled and gave out.

Nails dug into her skin. Inside, he throbbed deep within her.

The heavy downpour outside drowned out her broken cries of pleasure. Louder with each flooding thrust he emptied into her. Over and over.

Only then did he let go and she could breathe again.

Down on the floor, a book lay open: the Bible Carter had given her when they first started dating. Her eyes found a familiar passage. One she couldn't remember ever circling. Not in red ink.

"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." — Matthew 7:7

This wasn't her Carter.

And later that night, she would pray again.

That whatever had come would stay. That he would never come back.