“My wife needed me." (Patreon)

She winced as her damp skin dragged against the tiles as Roth lowered her to the floor. She stared at him, dazed, as she leaned against the wall and tried to catch her breath. There were some odd sounds coming from beyond the stall, but she couldn’t focus enough to decipher what it could be. As if he had all the time in the world, Roth cleaned himself and then her and flushed the tissues down the toilet. He straightened his clothes and then hers before he tugged her away from the wall and unlocked the door.

As Roth ushered her to the sink, she saw there were five men in the bathroom. They were silent spectators who didn’t move a muscle as Roth placed her in front of him and washed her hands. She allowed him to do this because she still wasn’t in control of her faculties. She kept her head bowed because she couldn’t bear to look at them, but stiffened when she heard the hiss of a zipper and a stifled groan.

Her eyes flicked to the mirror and fixed on Roth. He didn’t miss a beat as he washed her hands the way he did everything—thoroughly. But his attention wasn’t on her, it was on the men, and his expression was sinister.

“Roth?” she whispered.

His attention flicked to her and he dipped his head into her hair for a moment before he straightened. “Come on.”

He grabbed paper towels to dry her hands and then his and used his body to shield her from their audience as they exited. He twined their fingers together as he led her back to the table. The first thing she registered was all eyes were on them. The second was that all plates had been cleared away except Roth’s. How long were they gone? Ten minutes? Twenty? She hauled back on Roth’s hand and blurted, “I’m gonna go.”

Roth didn’t stop or let go of her. “The hell you are.”

He dragged her the last five feet to the table and pulled out her chair for her. She collapsed into it while he took his seat beside her as if nothing had happened and smoothed a hand down his now wrinkled dress shirt.

“You were gone a long time,” Jennings said with arched brows.

“My wife needed me,” Roth said coolly, reminding her of the last time he had used that line.

She smacked his arm, making Theo’s eyes pop open wide. Roth’s only reaction to her assault in front of his associates was to grasp her hand and place it on his thigh.

“She needed you?” Mark said in a skeptical voice that said he was desperately trying to find another meaning to that word other than what they were all thinking.

Roth gave him a flat stare. “Yes, my wife needed me. And wherever we are, she gets my attention, unreserved."

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Sins. Please do not share or distribute.

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