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Gemma knocked hurriedly on the door. She could no longer distinguish the beating of her own heart from the dull thud of her fist against the wood.
Simon opened the door almost immediately. He raised his eyebrows slightly when he saw her.
“Again?” It was barely a laugh, “Never satisfied, I see.”
She burst in and slammed the door behind her. He probably thought she was coming back to taunt him. To admire how well she had managed to break him.
“Our son is missing.”
“ You really don’t know what to say anymore to get a reaction out of me.” He smirked.
She did not answer, only lowered her eyes to the carpet.
He frowned. Ah. Maybe it wasn't provocation.
“He didn’t come home, Simon.”
When she looked back at him, he noticed that her eyes were red.
“I called. Nobody saw him.”
Simon stared at her, scrutinizing her face, searching for the lie, the crack, the calculation. Though, he found nothing.
No, it was definitely not provocation. The color quickly left his face.
“What do you mean he hasn’t come back?” He asked simply, “It doesn’t make sense.”
He was waiting for an answer but found none. His ex wife remained silent.
“He must be at a friend’s house,” he said too quickly. “ He’s doing this to make us pay.”
She glanced away towards the window, her arms now crossed against her chest.
“ I called every parents I knew of his friends. Nobody has seen him.”
“He must have told them to lie. He clearly doesn't want us to found him.”
“ Simon, he’s not at a friend’s house. I’m sure.”
She looked at him intently. Understanding passed through his eyes. Then fear.
He took a step back, pale, and leaned against the window. His hand moved up to his beard, a nervous gesture she knew all too well.
“That’s not possible.”
Then he suddenly sat up and turned his glance towards her.
She recognized that look immediately.
The fear was already fading. Something else was taking its place. More insidious. More tenacious.
“It’s you,” he said in a whisper, “It’s your fault. If you hadn’t decided to destroy everything that was left - if you hadn’t ruined my life - then he would never have left.”
Gemma wanted to laugh. It was typical of Simon, really : he had to find someone to blame. And inevitably, it would be her.
“Ruined your life? Please, Simon.” She rolled her eyes, “ Kate left because you lie like you breathe.”
He looked at her and she knew he hadn't forgiven her. That he probably never would.
“Kate would never have left me if you hadn’t put ideas in her head.”
“You're a cheating liar, Simon. She left you because she finally realized you would never change.”
Her voice was harsh. He looked angry. Good.
“You sabotaged everything,” he turned his back to her. “You never accepted that I could come back. That I could be happy with someone else than you.”
“Happy? You mean with another woman?” She laughed, “Do you think that’s what this is about?”
“ What else ?”
“Oh Simon…you're really not as smart as you think you are.”
He just grinned.
“You can’t bear the thought of me being loved without you. Of me being able to breathe without you.”
“Breathe? Come on Simon … you're suffocating everywhere you go. What you need is an audience, not a woman.”
She was satisfied, thought he would burst into anger. But instead, he had the audacity to smile. It was a sly smile, just the right amount of petty.
“Okay.” He said more calmly, “Whatever makes you sleep at night.”
These words exasperated Gemma. She ran a hand through her hair. She would not give him satisfaction to see her annoyed.
“Honestly ? I could not care less about you being with another woman.”
He said nothing, his exasperating smirk still playing on the corner of his lips.
Fuck him.
“In truth, you can’t bear not to win. That’s why you had to destroy everything I built.”
She stared at him, speechless. She was looking for something in his eyes, remorse, perhaps. There was none.
“Oh god.” She laughed, “You really think I wanted to destroy your family? That it was my goal all along?”
He was so convinced in himself… it was truly unbelievable!
“ No, Simon. What really disgusts me- ”
She moved slightly towards him.
“… Is that you had the arrogance to come back here,” she paused for a moment, “… to expose yourself as if nothing had happened, as if you had any right to be here after everything you’ve done to me.”
He did not back down, only raised his arms in a gesture of exasperation, acting like she was overreacting :
“ Yes, ok, I cheated on you. Hands down to that. I’m the bad guy. I get it.” He scoffed, “But that doesn’t justify what you did to me after, Gemma. Making me believe that…”
He looked away for a moment, then back at her, a trace of suffering in his eyes.
“…that you killed our son.” He said abruptly, “ Do you know how fucked up you have to be to make believe that to someone ?”
She merely laughed.
“ Oh no, I didn’t make you believe anything. You assumed it, only because you thought I would be capable of it.”
He stepped forward, clearly taunting her. His lips were twisted in a sly smile :
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Fuck off, Simon.”
He let out a bitter laugh, but didn’t look away. The game was just starting.
“No, fuck you, Gemma.”
He held her gaze : A look of pure disdain on his face.
“You turned our son against me. You planted the idea in his head that I am a failure.”
“I didn’t plant anything.”
She paused, then smiled wickedly.
“He saw it all by himself.”
She watched Simon's face crumble. He wasn't smiling at all anymore.
“I am not a failure, Gemma.”
She shrugged.
“What did you say sooner?”
A mocking smile crossed her lips.
“Oh, yeah: whatever makes you sleep at night.”
He turned away from her slowly, shaking his head in disbelief. When he turned back to her, he sounded bitter :
“You don’t deserve anything.”
His voice sharper :
“You think you're better than everyone...You really don't know how you look to people, do you?”
“Right. Well we’ve already been there, Simon.”
She turned away slightly.
“I'm a narcissist bitch and I sound like I despise everyone, is that it?”
She sighed lightly :
“ It doesn’t hurt me.”
He held her gaze, a desperate laugh escaped him:
“That's the problem, Gemma. It doesn't hurt you.”
He approached her, his breath too close to hers.
“Nothing hurts you !”
Then, without warning, he took her by the shoulders, gazing into her eyes. He looked a bit mad, sick, perhaps.
“You don’t feel anything in your fucking heart.”
She was barely breathing, gripped by his hands on her.
“I cheated on you.” He let out in a guilty breath, “And yet, for weeks, all you could do was looking at me like you were some kind of ghost.”
He laughed nervously, his arms still wrapped around his shoulders.
“ You knew … and you wouldn't say a thing until you decided to make me pay back”, He then spat, “Not a fucking thing!”
She frozed. Only a second. It was comfortable, the way he was holding her … Almost reassuring in the familiarity of his hands around her, the smell of his perfume, the intimacy of his breath.
He let go of her. Eventually.
“No. You would rather trap me, humiliate me and then scare me to death to the point I knocked you unconscious, rather than admitting you've suffered.”
She laughed. He looked up at her as if she were crazy.
“And what do you think I would have told you?”
He didn’t answer to that so she kept going, an ancient anger coming back.
”That your ruined my life? Our son's life? That you wasted all of our money to fuck an underaged girl?”
She finally smiled, but she did not feel as satisfied as she thought she would be. Rather discouraged.
“ You're a self-absorbed dick, Simon.”
He brought the palms of his hands to his eyes, rubbing them nervously. His voice sounded almost uncertain when he finally spoke.
“She was not underaged.”
“That’s your excuse?”
She laughed even harder.
“Fucking unbelievable.” She looked back at him, “Well you're right. She was 22, so yeah, technically legal.”
He then stared at her. Only for a few seconds.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Twist everything until I look like a monster.”
A slow smile appeared on her lips.
“Maybe you are. Have you thought about that?”
He took a step towards her. She didn't back down this time.
“ And you're so rightous.”
He stared at her with that petty smile she knew so well.
“I cheated first, that's true. But it was within a day that you decided to fuck one of my best mate in return. How's about loyalty?”
“One of your best mate? Simon … really ? Neil hates your guts.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Right. That sorts everything out then.”
“I'm not going to apologize for taking pleasure where I could.”
He sneered.
“Fuck that, you only wanted to get back at me.”
“Did it work?”
He didn’t take his eyes off her.
“Yes.”
A guilty silence settled in.
“Good.”
But her voice was not as confident as it was minutes ago.
They stopped speaking, and Simon looked at her for a few seconds.
“Did it make you feel better? To hurt me?”
“You hurt me first.”
“That wasn’t my question, Gemma.”
“But that's my answer.”
He gave a slight smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
“ That was a fucked up thing to do to your friend. You realize that don’t you?”
This time his eyes shone with amusement. He lowered his voice :
“ Well. Too bad his cock was not as good as mine.”
Vicious.
“You're digusting.”
He stepped back slightly, a wicked smile on his lips.
“ It takes two to tango.”
She didn’t say a word for her minute. She wanted to bit. To tear his ego and petty smile away. Just for a second.
She finally raised her head.
“You deserved to suffer.”
His jaw tightened. He gazed intently into her eyes.
He wasn’t looking at her with resentment anymore.
“I loved you, Gemma.”
“You don’t get to say that now.”
But he moved closer and she could feel the warmth of his body again.
“And you loved me too.”
“Past tense.”
He laughed.
“Stop lying.”
Their breaths almost mingled.
“Despite everything… you can't let go of me.”
She held his gaze. Her voice was not gentle when she replied:
“And yet, you're the one that came back home two years later.”
She moved closer to him, her thighs barely touching his.
He did not lower his eyes, his voice a mere whisper:
“I really fucking hate you, Gemma.”
She never took her eyes off him when she pressed her hips against his, it only lasted a few seconds.
He didn't move.
She lowered her eyes, then came back to his glance.
“That’s why you’re hard for me?” His voice was low, cruel, “You really can't help it, can you?”
Simon assessed it silently. His voice was restrained:
“ I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She moved a millimeter closer. Deliberate. She brushed her hand against his torso, running her finger over his bare skin where his shirt was slightly open.
She leaned towards him, just a whisper:
“And you're harder now.”
He inhaled sharply, his torso straining against his hand.
She finally stepped back, a sour smile on her lips.
“You're pathetic.” She spat out the words, victorious.
Yet, she too felt the heat rising. That familiar tension between her thighs. That magnetic field they had never been able to deactivate.
She looked back at him, and he understood. He knew her too well.
He was the one who stepped forward. He only stopped when his breath reached his ear:
“Well, that makes the two of us then.”
Gemma felt something crack inside her.
He saw him and cupped his chin, gently resting his forehead against his.
Their breaths were now mingling. They both closed their eyes.
She thought back to their life before. When he didn’t let her leave the house without her kissing him goodbye. The family games on Saturdays. The love notes he left in his coat pockets.
It had been so simple.
He seemed to be thinking the same thing as her.
His voice was almost tender when he spoke:
“It’s the only way we have to communicate now, isn’t it?” his voice lower : “War. Possession.”
She wanted to say something, but the words remained stuck in her throat.
After a moment, she managed to whisper:
“We were happy.”
“Yes,” he admitted, almost in spite of himself.
For a brief moment, she felt sympathy for him. She wanted to take him in her arms, confess that she missed him. She didn't understand why, but she wanted to. It was almost an urge.
But then, she opened her eyes and met his gaze, and just like that, the betrayal returned stronger than ever.
The moment ended.
“ You ruined everything.”
Simon sensed the change in the way she looked at him. Darker. More fixed.
She smiled. It was slow, cold, almost cruel.
“What are you going to do now, Simon? Hurt me?”
She leaned slightly towards him, her voice gliding against his skin.
“ No. I don’t think so. You want something else. Even though you pretend you don’t. Am I right ?”
Her lips brushed against his neck, just enough to awaken a memory.
“You could fuck me hard. As we did before. I know you like that.”
He shivered slightly, closed his eyes for a second. She smiled against his neck.
“I don’t think you were allowed to fuck Kate like that, right?”
She slid her lips along his neck with calculated slowness, then lingered on a specific spot she knew by heart: that sensitive spot that made him tremble involuntarily. She placed a deeper kiss there, then barely nibbled it before gently taking it between her lips.
He moaned. It was a pathetic plaint against her.
“Yeah. I thought so”, She slid against his ear, “Too young. She wouldn’t want you to think she’s a slut.”
She sucked harder, leaving a mark.
“But I could. Be your slut, just for tonight. If you’d like.”
She moved slightly aside to look at him.
His eyes were blackened, burning with a dark glow. He looked almost desperate. His erection against his thigh was undeniable.
Her voice was no longer arrogant. It was almost weak:
“We really shouldn't.”
Gemma pressed herself against his chest. She smiled.
“Yes, we shouldn’t. But it wouldn't mean anything. You hate me, remember?”
She placed a hand flat against her chest. Her heart was beating fast. He was looking at her : furious or lustful, she couldn't tell.
“ Is that one of your fucked up games again?” He whistled, caustic, “Aren’t you going to record this time?”
She gave a playful smile. He always assumed the worst of her. And maybe he was right.
“Not this time.”
She gently rubbed her pelvis against his. She rose onto her tiptoes, bringing her lips to his ear:
“This time, I really want to feel you in me. Hard.”
He didn't give her time to back away. He grabbed her by the hips, turning her around so that her back was against his chest.
“I won’t be gentle, Gemma.”
“Good. I don’t want you to be.”
His words barely spoken, he slipped his hand under her dress. He didn't even take the time to remove her panties, he just pushed them aside with one hand.
His fingers slid quickly inside her; there was no resistance.
“You're so wet.”, he whispered into her neck. “I could fuck you with your clothes still on.”
" Do it."
She challenged him.
He turned her over then, and crushed his lips against hers. It was hard, their teeth clashed. A gasp of breath, almost painful.
He forced her mouth open, demanding, dominant, his tongue seeking hers as if challenging her to a duel. His hand moved up into her hair, tugging gently, not really to hurt, but to maintain control. To dominate.
When she finally opened her mouth, he pushed his tongue in, forcing it against hers. She responded by biting her lower lip, enough to make him gasp.
“That’s what you want?” He groaned between kisses, “That I fuck you in your little panties?”
She moaned into his mouth, and he shoved her against the wall behind her with restrained brutality. The impact vibrated through her back, into her stomach. He slid a hand onto her hip, pressing her hard against him. She felt his hard cock against her, the heat radiating from his body.
She smiled against his lips.
He deepened the kiss, slower this time, deciding the rhythm. His tongue brushed against hers, then held it, pressing against hers, withdrawing, forcing her to follow.
Then he stepped aside and, with one hand, he unbuttoned his shirt with a sharp movement, pulling it aside roughly. His fingers found her breasts, and his mouth followed almost immediately.
Gemma tilted her head back, a sigh escaping her. She missed feeling his fingers inside her.
He sucked harder on one nipple, and she felt her legs buckle slightly. He then spread her thighs with his knee, to slide between them.
“I should make you suck my cock.”
His voice was hoarse against her skin. She opened her eyes again. He stared at her intensely, his mouth still moist with hers.
“Maybe that way, you would finally shut up.”
She didn't reply, only gave him a dry smile.
Her hand moved down of its own accord, found the bulge in his trousers. She pressed her hand against him, through the fabric. He hissed. Too many clothes. Too many barriers.
She quickly opened the zipper; he didn't help her. His eyes were dark, waiting, as she finally freed him.
Hot. Hard. Trembling against his palm.
He let out a small moan when she took him in her hand, when she caressed him, once, twice. Then he grabbed his wrist firmly and pinned him against the wall.
"No. I decide when I want to take you."
His voice was low, calm, and authoritative.
He pulled up her dress with one hand, roughly pulling her panties aside. She felt the air on her skin, the anticipation, the emptiness.
He positioned himself against her. The tip of his penis barely touched her.
She wanted to press herself against him, to fill that unbearable space. He placed a hand on her hip to hold her still.
His gaze met hers but he didn’t move. She frowned.
“What are you waiting for?”
He gave a slight smile.
“Beg me.”
His voice was low. Almost quiet.
She wanted to laugh, but she scrutinized him. He wasn't smiling. He was serious.
Silence. Just their breaths. The tip of his cock against her, barely, just enough to make her shudder. She felt the wetness of pre-ejaculate at the tip. It aroused her more than she would admit.
Gemma blurted out after a moment:
"Seriously ? No, absolutely not."
He raised an eyebrow. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
"So I'll stop. At three."
She waited. But he didn't move. Nothing. Just the warmth of him, that infinitely light pressure that drove her crazy.
"One.”
She gritted her teeth.
"Two."
She hated him. She hated him for knowing her so well. She hated him for desiring him, even now.
He stepped back a millimeter. Barely.
"Three."
He was really going to do it. He was going to stop and leave her there, soaked, trembling, humiliated.
"No, wait."
She had spoken before she could stop herself, her voice more fragile than she would have liked.
He froze. His eyes darkened, but not just with triumph. Something else. Something deeper.
"Beg me, Gemma."
It wasn't a game anymore. Not really. His voice had lost its arrogance. It was a need. He needed her to lower herself. To give in. Just once.
Gemma felt her throat tighten.
“Okay.” She sneered, “Fuck me then.”
He shook his head, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
"No. That's not what I want to hear."
She closed her eyes. For a second. Two. When she opened them again, there was no longer any defiance in her gaze. Just her. Naked. Disarmed.
"Please, Simon."
Her voice was barely a breath.
"I beg you. I want you. Fill me up. Please."
He froze for a second. As if the words had struck him right in the heart.
He groaned, then thrust against the entrance with a single movement, never breaking eye contact. He pushed in all the way to the hilt.
He remained there, motionless, until she got used to it. His forehead against hers. His eyes closed.
"Fuck, Gemma." Her voice was choked. "You're so tight."
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer.
"Move."
He obeyed.
His first thrusts were slow, deep, almost cruel. Each time, he sank completely, stayed for a second, then slowly withdrew before plunging again.
She dug her nails into his shoulders.
" Harder. “
He accelerated. His hands gripped her buttocks, lifting her with each thrust to penetrate her deeper.
She felt the wall against her back, the heat of him inside her, the sweat running between her breasts.
She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. She pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips:
“You missed that, didn’t you?”
He turned his head away. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
She smiled. She pressed herself close to his ear.
"I missed it."
She lightly touched his ear with her tongue, as she knew he liked.
“Your cock in me. Hard. Deep.” His tongue nibbled on her lobe. "I touch myself thinking about it. Sometimes."
A moan escaped her. He thrust deeper, as if to silence her.
"Gemma..." A warning. His voice was weaker. "Don't."
“Tell me.” She tightened her legs around him. "When you fucked her. Tell me you thought about me."
He looked up. And she saw. That glimmer. That truth he couldn't hide.
She laughed. A low, cruel sound.
"I knew it."
She caressed his cheek, almost tenderly, before her voice turned icy.
“You're a fucking loser.”
He smirked.
“ Though I’m fucking you. So what does it say about you?”
“ Only that I love a good fuck. And I Could have it with anyone.”
“ You really don’t know how to shut up.”
“Make me.”
He accelerated. Brutally. Desperately. Each thrust of his hips pressed her harder against the wall.
She moaned, slid her hands down his arms, took his fingers in hers, and squeezed them.
He lowered his gaze to their intertwined hands. It was a gesture too intimate, too guilty.
She felt him weaken. She sank deeper.
"Admit it."
His voice was now just a whisper.
“When she had her mouth around you. You closed your eyes and pretended it was me.”
He moaned. Long. Deep. He pushed in further, she was so wet, it wasn't complicated.
"Fuck." His breath was ragged against her mouth. "Yes, Gemma... fuck, yes. Do you really want to hear it?"
He fixed his eyes on hers. He seemed devastated, excited, broken. All at the same time.
“I’ll admit it, yes,” His voice broke, “Her body, it was yours I saw. Her moans, it was yours I wanted to hear.”
She moaned loudly, almost in agony.
"Liar." She could only breathe, her legs tightening around her hips.
"Not this time." His voice was muffled against hers. Choked. "I hate loving you like this. I fucking hate you so much, and yet…"
His voice was now nothing more than a faint whisper:
“I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I leave you, even when I hate you. I always think about you.”
She felt something break inside her at this revelation.
All that anger, that hatred, that obsession, which transformed into something else. Into a need. Into a visceral desire to keep him inside her forever.
"Don't stop." Her voice was more broken than she intended, "Please, Simon, I've missed it. Feeling you inside me … I need you."
He slowed down. His movements became deeper, slower, more intimate. He raised his head, his eyes met hers, and something changed.
He smiled at her sincerely.
It was tender, sweet, almost like before.
His fingers left her buttocks to caress her cheek. Such a tender gesture, so incongruous in what they were doing.
"I'm sorry."
The words struck her. She wondered if she had dreamt it. He had never apologized. Not once.
"I'm so sorry, Gemma. For everything. For us. For what I did."
She hadn't been dreaming. She felt her eyes burning. She shook her head, refusing to hear it, not now.
"No, shut up."
Don’t cry, not now.
“Shut up and fuck me.”
He obeyed. But his eyes never left hers. And in every movement, there was a pain that had nothing to do with desire. He was more tender, kissing her deeply.
She felt the orgasm rising. Slowly. Inevitably. Not the brutal explosion she had sought. Something deeper. More devastating.
"Simon, I- "
She didn't have time to finish; orgasm hit her suddenly. It was intense. She felt full, happy, so good.
She came with his name on her lips. She repeated it several times, almost sobbing.
Simon came right after. He felt her tighten around him, her nails digging into his skin, her body trembling against his.
“Gemma …”
His name died in her mouth as he thrust into her one last time. Then finally, he ejaculated inside her, deep inside, his fingers gripping her hips, his face buried in her neck.
Their breaths were slowly calming, their bodies still warm, still entangled.
Then reality returned : brutal and silent.
Gemma regretted it almost immediately.
Simon withdrew gently and she immediately felt the emptiness, a sudden absence that tightened her chest.
She pulled herself out of his arms and nervously adjusted her dress. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.
The silence was deafening.
Then he spoke. His voice was calm. Empty.
“ Should we talk about it ?”
She shook her head. It wasn't the right time.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
A strange calm had settled between them: fragile, almost unreal. The kind of silence that hadn't existed between them for two years.
Simon knew perfectly well what she was thinking.
Tom.
He could almost see the anguish behind the mask she was trying to keep intact. He knew her too well not to recognize it. He was worried too.
He ran a tired hand over the back of her neck, then raised his head slightly towards her.
“We'll find him.”
Gemma remained silent for a few seconds.
Then she asked, without looking at him:
“How can you be sure?”
Simon barely hesitated.
“We've hurt him.” His voice was low. “Both of us.”
He paused.
“But he’s only fifteen.” He took a slight breath. “And he still loves us.”
He looked up at her.
“He'll come back.”
Gemma was silent for a moment.
Then she finally turned her head slightly towards him.
“ Why do I have to tell you that I hate you to death for you to become a semblance of the husband I loved?”
Simon let out a dry laugh.
“I still hate you too, Gemma.”
She held his gaze.
But there was something unexpected in her eyes. A tired gentleness.
She decided not to analyze it. She didn't have the strength.
Her voice remained calm when she eventually replied:
“It's ok. I still pretty much fucking loathe you too, Simon.”