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Tonight, I caught him jerking off, and not only did it turn me on, it made me feel like the world’s worst lover. I don’t want to deprive him of sex, because what if he went somewhere else to find it? Kingston claims he would never cheat, but he’s a salacious lover and his physical drive is powerful. He needs sex regularly to feel needed. Some would say he’s addicted.
But also, seeing him touch himself made me want him, made me need to feel like a vixen. I saw he was looking at his phone. Was he watching porn? I don’t know, but it made me want to prove my worth to him, prove I am still the one woman he claimed to only ever lust after.
His hands grip my ass again, nudging me closer to his hard cock trying to break free from his sleep pants. When the material-clad erection hits my bare clit, I gasp, moaning into the living room.
“Heaven,” he murmurs against my breast, his mouth worshipping my rose-colored nipple.
“What?” I stutter, unashamedly grinding against his cock, the sensation strong enough to bring me closer and closer to the edge with each thrust.
“You giving yourself to me, that sound you make when you’ve forfeited. That is heaven.” I drop my eyes, tilting my head slightly, taking in his mouth on my budded nipple. He lavishes it, giving it more attention then what most men would. My chest has easily become an aphrodisiac for him.
The words he’s whispering are making me feel claustrophobic, because they further prove my inadequacy as a lover—as his best friend. Is this what he thinks I’m doing?
Aren’t you though, Lana?
“Forfeiting?” I yelp when he bites down hard, my nipple burning deliciously against his tongue as he soothes the pain.
Finally bringing his eyes to me, he reaches down and pulls his cock free, the hard shaft bobbing in the air, hard and ready for me. I peek at it and bite my lip, missing the thick invasion that comes with his cock inside me, but I refocus my attention on him.
“Yeah, you haven’t wanted me in so long—probably still don’t, but for some reason, you feel tonight I deserve you. If it’s all a show, then that’s fine, because I want to be the star of that show. I need your touch that fucking bad, Lana.”
A knife is dug into my heart while another one digs deep inside his. I want Kingston. It’s not a matter of if I want him; it’s more about if I can fix myself enough to be worthy of him.
I am spiraling down a long road of depression, losing myself and who I am. I feel territorial over myself, because I’m so lost that I don’t know if I trust anyone to ever have me completely. What can I give when I, myself, don’t even know what I’m giving anymore? What is my worth to not only myself but to the man of value under me?
“Don’t talk like that. It’s not you—”
“It’s me? Fuck that bullshit,” He cuts me off, calling my bluff.
“It’s true, Kings. You know it, I know it, and all the world would know it if they knew me,” I admit, bringing my hands down between us to glide them up and down his warm, thick, smooth shaft.
He groans, thrusting up into my hands. “You aren’t playing fair,” He moans as my hands start working.
“I don’t want to play fair. I just want to play.” My inner minx has awoken, my demons hushed for now. The heavy talk is mute to me, because there is nothing he can say right now that will be able to fix me like he seems to think. I’m not a twenty-four-hour bug that can be cured with some treatment in love. I need more than that. I need salvation.
“On one condition.” He stops my hands with his, banding them around my wrist.
“What’s that, Daddy?” I wink, already in full costume, my dirty ways unleashed, but this doesn’t make him laugh. Instead, his face grows stoic.
“You pretend that you love me tonight, that never once have we been anything but happy.”
His words sting me into emotional paralyzation. Has he never been happy? I know we both have problems, but have I made him truly unhappy, and if so, why the hell did he stay?
I leave his body faster than he has time to stop me. Grabbing my nightie, I slip it on fast. Moving my hair out of my face when I am fully dressed, I point at him. “You didn’t have to stay! You could have left!” I yell, as he rights himself in his pants, standing to face off with me.
“What? Leave you when you were pregnant with Prince? Yeah, because that’s the right thing to do.” He scoffs, and my jaw unhinges, falling open.
“Wow, so you stayed for the baby? I don’t need the support or pity, Kingston!” I push his chest and go to move around him. Surprisingly he lets me, but he stays hot on my heels as I stomp into the kitchen.
The constant loop of this fight is becoming far too much. We have done this dangerous dance for so many years now that I’m pretty sure it’s happening more than us actually talking, laughing, having fun, or just being best friends. We’re toxic at this point. Shit, we’ve been toxic since day one.
“No, I stayed because we were finally happy. You were finally happy, Lana! Don’t drag our son into your shit!” he yells, and I lean back, turning on him, my back on fire now.
“My shit? Wow! Wow! Thank you. I’m already well aware that I’m ‘shit’ and that I’m the problem, but thank you for reaffirming it.”
“Oh my fuck! What do you want from me, Lana? What?” he screams, actually screams at me for the first time in our relationship. I cower, backing up against the counter.
“Don’t you fucking cower from me! This is us. You stand up and either fight for it or we end it here and now!” he roars, and my eyes lift from the ground, rounded and filled with consternation.
