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A deep sense of satisfaction fills me at seeing her like this, nudging that darkness a bit further down into the cage I’ve been keeping it in. She is on her knees in front of me, totally at my mercy while I take from her.
An image tries to drift to the front of my mind of blue eyes peering up at me, lips tilted up in a secretive smile. It’s our secret, Luke, echoes at the edges of my hearing. I ruthlessly shove it down. I’m in control here, so I close my eyes and start bobbing her head up and down the length of my cock until my balls draw up and a familiar tingling starts at the base of my cock. Pulling out all the way, I tap the side of her mouth.
“Open,” I growl, and she doesn’t hesitate, always so fucking eager.
With a jerk I start coming, ropes of my release painting a picture all over her face. I watch in satisfaction as my cum hits her closed eyes, some of it dripping into her open mouth. Tucking myself back into my slacks, I hesitate.
This place isn’t home, and it doesn’t feel right staying here, but the lies I’ve told prevent me from going home. Besides, I’m not done. I need more before I can face my life. Settling down on the couch, I give her a pointed look, and like the good little dog she is, she comes trotting over.
She looks ridiculous in those heels, breasts bouncing with every step. Hesitating, she stares at me before obediently sinking down on the floor next to me. She thinks this is all a game. That it’s a kink of mine. It’s not. Back in uni, I tried every avenue I could to appease my darkness. I joined a BDSM club, but it didn’t last long. It failed to give me what I craved because there was no realness to it. Both parties went in with their eyes open, enacting a scene that was mutually beneficial. I am enacting a scene, but by the end I want her to be destroyed.
Grabbing the remote, I mindlessly start searching until I find a replay of a Gators game. A tumbler half filled with whiskey is waiting for me next to an almost full bottle. The first few gulps burn, but it settles in my stomach with a soothing heat. I don’t know how many times she refills the glass for me but eventually, the alcohol, combined with the stress from the last week, finally catches up with me, and I doze off.
***
Sometime later, I’m woken up by the feeling of warm heat enveloping me. The room is shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the TV. Moans echo from the TV, and I’m briefly distracted from the breasts pressed into my face. A couple is writhing on a bed, her legs wrapped around his waist, clawed fingers digging into his flexing ass while he’s ruthlessly pounding into her. The brush of breasts against my face turns my head, and I take a nipple into my mouth, sucking and flicking it with my tongue. I’m not sure where the moan of satisfaction comes from; it could be the TV or the warm body grinding down on my cock. My beautiful angel. Wrapping my arms around her naked body, I run my hands down her back, coming to rest on her ass and clenching it in my hands. Pressing her down, I grind my aching cock up into her, circling my hips. I want to be inside her as deep as I can go. If I could, I would crawl inside her and die there a happy man. With a groan, my head drops back to the couch, all I can focus on is the ache of my cock, and the warm, velvety smoothness gliding up and down at an excruciatingly slow pace. She lowers her head to mine, her tongue licking along my lips, and I open for her, expecting her sweet taste to fill my mouth. Instead, all I taste is whiskey. Our tongues tangle, and my hands help her bounce up and down, the slapping soundtrack of skin meeting skin mingling with those coming from the TV.
“Yes, baby,” her voice breathes, a mere whisper in the dark. “I knew it would be so good between us.”
I want to argue, ask her what she’s talking about because it’s always so good between us, but before I can utter a word, her lips are back on mine, our tongues twisting and twining, stealing the breath from my lungs. Tightening my arms, I pull us to the side and roll on top of her. It’s like we’re reenacting the scene on the TV, her arms and legs coming up to wrap around me.
I keep my gaze focused on the TV, timing my thrusts to match his, my balls slapping against her ass. I’m not going to last long; I was already halfway there by the time I woke up. But I never come before she does, so I trace her ear with my tongue, sucking the lobe of it in my mouth. Gliding my hand down, I flick her clit, before circling it with my thumb. She shudders, and then the rhythmic gripping of her pussy around my dick sends me crashing over the edge. Groaning, I keep pumping my hips while I fill her up with my seed, and through the fog in my head, I imagine it taking hold, her belly once again growing big with my child.
Collapsing, I roll us to the side and pull her into me, the heat of my angel warming me while I drift off back to sleep.
***
There’s a dull throbbing in my temples when I wake up. It takes a few tries, but I manage to open my eyes, trying to blink the scratchiness away. My brain is sluggish, so it takes a few moments for me to figure out where I am. I must have fallen asleep on the couch at some point. I’m on my back, and when I glance down at my body, my brain stalls trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. She’s wrapped around me, her head on my chest, her leg resting on my legs, her knee pressing down on my cock. My naked cock. My slacks are still on, but it hangs loosely, my cock hanging out. My shirt buttons are undone, her hand splayed on my chest, while my arm is around her, hand resting on her ass. She’s completely naked. Hazy images assault me, and I jerk up, dislodging her and making her roll off the couch in the process. She yelps when she hits the ground, but I hardly hear her as my gaze frantically scans the room. Her crumpled bra lies next to the bottle of almost-finished whiskey. My eyes freeze on our discarded shoes haphazardly piled together. No, no, no, no, my mind screams at me. It’s the wrong fucking shoes.
“Baby.” Her soft touch on my arm turns my body to stone.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I grit out, fisting my hands. The need to punch something, to punch her, is overwhelming, and my fists shake with the effort to hold it in. “What the fuck have you done?” I roar, jumping up. I can’t have her looming over me. It takes me to places I never ever want to go again.
She takes a quick step back at the force of my rage but then squares her shoulders, her chin tilting up to a stubborn angle. “We did what you came over here last night to do.” Her voice is insistent, emphasizing the “we.” “We made love.”
I take a threatening step towards her and despite her chin trembling she holds her ground. “Firstly, there is no ‘we,’” I mock. “Secondly, don’t ever call what we do ‘making love.’ What we do is fuck, nothing more, nothing less.”
Taking a step back, I whirl around, scrunching my hair in my hands. “Go put on clothes.” I choke out. I can’t look at her like this. I need her to look like the slut she is. Anything else is too much for me to handle right now. Rustling sounds out behind me, and when I turn around again, she’s tying the belt of the robe she had on last night.
This situation is so fucked up, but my mind stalls on one thought. “Tell me we used a fucking condom.” My heart’s beating a mile a minute, panic threatening to rear up and choke me. She doesn’t need to answer, her reluctance to speak coming across loud and clear. My heart free-falls and I groan a curse.
“I don’t see what the problem is. You were going to fuck me anyway.” She’s getting snippy now, and I want to choke it right out of her.
“The problem,” I hiss, “is that last night I thought you were my wife. There is no way I would ever fuck your dirty cunt without protection.” Her eyes widen in hurt, but I don’t give a fuck. I have officially lost it. All I can think about is the possibility that she might be pregnant, and the thought sends tendrils of nausea shooting through my body. Desperately I start righting my clothes and yanking on my shoes and socks, ignoring her protests. Grabbing my keys, I storm to the door and almost bump into her when I whirl around.
“Stay right here,” I snarl.
“Where are you going? I was planning on making us breakfast.”
“I’ll be back,” I snap and charge to the car, momentarily blinded by the sunlight.
Half an hour later, I’m back and head straight to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, I fill it up with water.
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring her question, I thrust the glass and the pill I got from the pharmacy to her. “Drink it,” my voice brooking no argument.
“What is it?”
