Page 70 of Breathe Like Hell

My hands flexed on her hips as I fucked her harder.

“Do you even care that you’re with both of us at the same time?” I questioned, toxicity dripping in my thoughts, corrupting and ruining everything. “Does that compute in your brain as something you shouldn’t be doing?”

“Yes,” she whined, gripping the comforter.

“That’s difficult to believe, considering how you just. Keep. Doing. It.” I punctuated every word with a thrust of my hips, going harder each time.

“I’m sorry,” she moaned as she arched. “I’m so fucking sorry!”

“I don’t think you are.” I pulled her hair, hard, making her wince, her neck tilted back. Her hand slipped underneath her body to touch her clit. She still thought she deserved to come. “There’s something seriously wrong with you, baby.”

“I am sorry,” Dakota cried out, her pussy squeezing around my shaft. She was so wet now that I could hear it. Could hear her fingers desperately rubbing her swollen little clit.

“You know what I think?” I leaned over her, driving deeper, shoving my palm against the back of her skull. “I think that pretending you’re apologetic turns you on. I think you know you’re pathetic, you know you’re not a good girl, you know I’m going to be pissed at you for saying sorry and it makes you come that much harder.”

“That’s not true.” Her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Maybe you’re sorry for him, but not sorry for me. Never sorry for me.”

Dakota was breathing heavily, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted.

The thought that she might’ve been able to smell Micah on his pillow slammed into my thoughts, making my teeth grind.

Greedy, desperate, lying slut.

You belong to me, not him. Don’t breathe him in while I’m inside of you.

My fingers curled angrily around her hipbone, squeezing her tight enough to hopefully add fresh bruises to her collection. Her perfect skin, pale and soft, marred by my disgusting obsession.

Then I turned her head, shoving her face into the pillow, hard. Too hard, probably.

She couldn’t breathe now.

Can’t smell him like this, can you, baby?

The darkest parts of my brain wanted to affect her more than Micah did, even if in worse ways. Did she fear him the way she used to fear me?

I fucked her harder, pushed her head harder, wondering how much pressure it would take to actually break her nose.

I wouldn’t do that to her, though.

It didn’t take her long to start struggling.

“You wanna breathe?” I said in her ear, exertion making my voice hoarse.

She might’ve been nodding, but it was difficult to tell with the way her head was buried in the pillow.

It only made me harder.

“You need air, baby?” I asked. I wished I could erase every memory she’d ever made with Micah in this bed, wished I could scrub every inch of her brain clean of his shadows. Neither one of us deserved her, but I had her first. He didn’t know her like I did, and he never would.

She saved all the fucked-up shit for me.

That was us.

Dakota pushed back, her hair messy and tangled under my palm, woven around my fingers. Every movement was shaded with both desire and fear, two dark sides of the same coin. An arch in her spine paired with sharp nails raking down my thigh. A surge of wetness dripping from her perfect cunt paired with muffled screams.

Heat coiled around the base of my spine, sparking through my veins with every cry she wept into the pillow.