Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)
Chapter 53

"Rupert? Rupert!" Bridget's voice was drawing closer from outside the door.

Sylvia was frozen solid, a thin layer of sweat breaking out on her forehead. The mere thought of Bridget catching them in such a state sent her into a panic. Bridget was cunning and a born actress; she wouldn't let Sylvia off the hook easily. And Rupert, he always sided with Bridget. Sylvia didn't stand a chance. She pressed down on Rupert's wandering arm, pleading, "S-Stop, please. The person you love is Bridget."

She reminded Rupert in hope of awakening some sense in him with the two's affection. But to her dismay, Rupert didn't stop. Instead, his hand ventured under her shirt, his fingertips trailing paths that left her shivering. He leaned closer, his voice husky, "Calling me 'uncle' in this context does have a certain... appeal."

Sylvia was mortified. In a moment of desperation, she kicked the door with her foot.

Bang!

The sound echoed throughout the room.

Bridget paused at the door, knocking, "Rupert? Are you in there?"

Sylvia couldn't believe Rupert, who loved Bridget deeply, could bear to let Bridget witness this scene. After all, he always favored Bridget.

But the man before her just chuckled lightly. This only heightened her sense of dread as his face inched closer, menacingly. With a rip, Sylvia's shirt tore open and slid off.

Panicking, she wrapped her arms around herself. Her clothes were still in the dryer; she was wearing nothing underneath.

Without her hands in the way, Rupert's advances became more fervent. His hands, long and strong, caressed her shoulders, teasing her slowly, as if to prolong her torment.

Their bodies were pressed together, their warmth mingling. His voice was a low growl, "You were the same that night."

Sylvia bit her lip, feeling humiliated. Her sincere feelings had turned into a mockery. She knew no matter what she said, Rupert had made up his mind that she was the one who had drugged him. Otherwise...there was no explaining the series of coincidences.

He was drugged, she appeared out of nowhere, they ended up in the same room, and she was so willingly intimate.

Rupert leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He curled his lips and then kissed her.

Sylvia felt no joy, only stiffness throughout her body, as if she were reliving her past life.

He was always like this, too smart, understanding every change in her, knowing how to control her, tear at her, yet making it impossible for her to leave. Every encounter was merely an outlet for him. Afterward, he would coldly pull away, stating that was the only purpose of allowing her to stay with him. He didn't love her, yet he desired her body.

And so she endured, for eight long years! Eight years!

Sylvia suddenly broke free from her shame, glaring at him with her eyes wide open, and Bridget was knocking on the door inches away behind her. She could feel every vibration of the door, every turn of the lock tightening the strings of her tension.

"Rupert? What's going on?"

Instead of stopping, the man rubbed the corner of her eye with his thumb adorned with the ring, his mischievous gaze laden with lust.

He tilted his head to continue his assault, and that was when Sylvia noticed the bite marks on his neck.