Baz grips my thighs and pulls me forward so my pussy is at the perfect angle during my internal tirade. I put my palms on his broad chest, protesting. We can’t do this.
He looks down and a quirky, defiant smile pulls at his lips. He imprisons my wrists with one large hand and pins them over my head against the wood cabinets. He isn’t taking no for an answer, and I’m not exactly voicing my objections.
He leans in, the head of his engorged cock brushing against my opening. “I missed your sounds. I missed knowing I was the one causing you to make them.” He breaches my entrance, and the wide, full, intoxicating feeling that is Baz wins out. All of this is wrong, yes, I know it. But I don’t care. Not now. Afterwards there will be plenty of time for regret. Right now, there’s plenty of time to come.
I drop my head and hiss out an “oh, fuck,” as he smoothly enters me, making sure I feel the sheer power of him. Of his body, of his girth. I feel it. All of it, just like the first time with him and every time after that.
“I want you to lose your shit all over my cock.” He thrusts commandingly, reaching that place so deep inside. The place only he has ever pioneered.
There’s no containing the loud, elicit sounds he brings forth as we fuck. As I writhe against him, beneath him, right along with him. Fighting fruitlessly against his strong, stone body. The cotton of my shirt becoming like sandpaper as it rubs against my stiff, straining, oversensitive nipples.
The stroke of my orgasm manifests into a full-blown molestation as it suddenly happens. As I do exactly what he ordered me to and lose my shit all over his cock like a rehabbed junkie injecting a hit of heroin for the very first time.
I don’t even recognize my own screams as he pumps through my climax, prodding so hard he lifts my ass right off the counter time and time again. He follows me down the rabbit hole several suspended seconds later. Sinking his teeth into my collarbone so savagely I swear he leaves a mark.
I’m a quivering mass by the time he’s finished with me. The regret intensifying as my mind slowly clears.
I knew it was coming. It was the underlying emotion through this whole thing. But my body needed him as much as it needed food. I was starving. We both were, regardless of the right or wrong.
A wave of anger washes over the regret, creating a riptide of fury. I don’t know where it comes from exactly, but it’s powerful. Soul-consuming.
I feel his come leak down the inside of one of my thighs when he pulls out, and I instantly react. I can’t even stop myself. It’s like I’m demonically influenced.
“Fucking bastard!” I slap him across the face, stunning us both. Tears well in my eyes.Tears!I never cry. But here I am, about to become as watery as the New York City sewer system.
I think I contracted his lunacy.
I thrust myself off the counter, desperate for an escape. I don’t understand these feelings. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. All I know is that I don’t want Baz to see me cry. I don’t want to be weak. He has this strange power over me.Hemakes me weak.
I run out of the kitchen, shielding the tears. I can’t stop them, even though I try. Angry, hurt, frustrated tears pour from the ducts.
I take refuge in the bedroom, locking the door behind me and hiding beneath the covers. I cry them all out. Every single one, a sick yet satisfying sensation churning in my stomach.
I cry like I haven’t cried in years, until the pillow is soaked and I’m completely exhausted.
Wrapping my arms around my abdomen, I find solace in the little life that’s growing there and fall fast asleep.
I WAKE UPto the sound of aclick-click.
I flutter my eyes open to the dusky room and the silhouette of Baz sitting next to me on the edge of the bed.
He’s watching me sleep with a dead look in his eyes. So lost. So desolate, my defenses automatically go up.
“Baz?” I whisper, not moving a muscle. This version of Baz is like a feral animal, and one wrong move could provoke him to attack.
“Do you ever just wish it would end, Stevie?”
“Wish what would end, Baz?” I ask cautiously.
“All of it. All the noise and commotion and clutter? Wish it would just drain right out of your head?”
I eye him carefully in the dim light, maintaining my fetal position.
“No,” I reply softly. “Sometimes life is hard, but I never wish it would end.”
“It’s so painful sometimes. All the emotions, and the anxiety, and the pain. I’m so tired of hurting the people I love. Being a burden.” A tear drips off his cheek. Jesus, it destroys my fucking soul seeing him so beat down. “And I’msoexhausted.”
He does look like absolute shit. Those bags under his eyes tell me he hasn’t slept in days. Maybe a week.
