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What I didn’t expect was these trembling, airy words exhaled from Rachel’s glistening lips, “I’m going to come.”
I opened my clenched eyes. I looked at her face. There she was: pupils blown wide, mouth parted as she held her breath, cheeks flushed. There it was: ecstasy written all over her fucking face.
She’d been getting off on it. The whole goddamn time I’d held her there with me buried inside, nipples pinned against mine. She’d been getting off. Twitching around my cock. Tightening around my cock. My hands were cuffs around her wrists and she liked it. Rachel was going to cum and there I was holding myself back like some goddamn fool.
Well, fuck her.
Pulling out of her was like slapping Rachel in the face. Her eyes refocused. Her lips slammed shut. She glared at me with a fury as I cut off her orgasm.
“Bastard.”
“You will not come until I say so.”
“Fuck you, I’ll come if I want.” She yanked a hand free from my hold and pressed her fingers to her clit, rubbing furiously. “Oh God.”
“No, your orgasms are mine.”
I tore her hand away from her pussy and she let out a furious shriek. I wrestled with her as she tried to punch me, her anger making her strong. She wasn’t strong enough though.
I got her hands back over her head and thrust back into her.
“Mine. My pussy. My orgasm.”
It only made her madder. I glared right back at her. The harder I fucked her, the madder she got. The madder she got, the harder I wanted to fuck her.
Our bodies dripped in sweat and our lungs burned and we hit each other with our eyes because our hands were preoccupied. Mine squeezing tighter, tighter as I fucked her harder. Hers struggling to free themselves harder, harder as I fucked her madder.
If I would have turned my head, even just a few inches, I would have seen us in the reflection of the mirror. I would have seen my ass clenched as I drove up into her. I would have seen Rachel’s ankles slipping and relocking, slipping and relocking and squeezing me closer. I would have seen her hands and mine above her head, interlocked. I could have believed that it was ten years ago and I was fucking the woman who hadn’t broken my heart.
But I didn’t turn my head. Didn’t wrench my eyes away from hers. Couldn’t.
All I saw was her hatred for me. The only reflection, my hatred for her. I couldn’t see it, but as I rushed toward the edge, I could feel it. The woman I’d loved. The woman who’d once loved me.
I could feel it in the way she couldn’t stop herself from bucking back against my hips, driving me further, deeper inside of her. I could feel it in the hum of her frustrated growls against my chest, like a bird trapped in her ribcage. I could feel it in the way she melted not against the wall, but against me.
My hips thrashed up into her. The muscles along my thighs were spasming like I’d run a marathon. I could hardly breathe. I was drenched, absolutely drenched in sweat. I was close, so fucking close.
“Dirty girl, you will come around my dick.”
I fucked her so hard her hair snagged against the bricks behind her. Even as she tried to tear her wrists away from my hand still above her head. Screaming in frustration because she couldn’t get away. Because she couldn’t get closer. Cursing my name because I was going to force her to come around my cock. Even as she lifted up her hips to meet mine. Even as she clamped her legs around my waist to hold me to her.
I could feel her anger in the way she came, in the fury of her pussy clenching around me, the hatred in the way she screamed my name. I came hard, shuddering against her. She took it as I sank my teeth into the fleshy part of her neck.
We fell together to the floor. We collided painfully. There’d be bruised elbows the next morning. Sore shoulders. Knots on the sides of our heads.
As I lay there panting, Rachel rolled over beside me. She drew her fingers through her hair as she stared up at the ceiling. Her face was unreadable to me. The pounding of the music outside the little back room came back into focus.
“I still want a divorce,” Rachel said after a moment or two.
She didn’t turn her head to me. Didn’t look over to make sure that I was listening. That I could even hear her. I wondered even if she said it more to herself than anyone else. Because I’d felt the way she responded to me, even if she thought she merely hated me. She wanted to come around me. She wanted me to come inside of her. I knew it. And I think Rachel goddamn knew I knew it.
Still I said, “I know.”
I didn’t tell her that I’d already signed her fucking divorce papers. Didn’t tell her that I’d been a little more sober and a couple of stamps away from sending them.
Because for the first time I didn’t quite believe her when she said she wanted a divorce. I didn’t know what the fuck Rachel wanted. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if Rachel knew.
But there was love in our hate. I knew that. Even if it was the light of an already dead star in an otherwise pitch-black sky.
I knew that.
