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“God, baby,” he pants. “You feel so fucking good.”
I drag my nails down his back as he drills into me. Easton is not small by any means, and no matter how many times we're together, I can feel the way I have to stretch around him. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
He moves his mouth to my ear. “Give me what I want, Kennedy. Let me feel that pretty pussy clench around me.”
“It’s my orgasm,” I counter, and yet still, the pressure in my core starts to build.
It's like he has a direct line to climax central. No matter what I do, I can never deny him of anything when we're like this. My body just naturally reacts to him. Does whatever is necessary to please him.
I let out a moan that he quickly swallows down as another high hits and threatens to leave me in ruins. Easton hums contently against my lips with that arrogant smirk already appearing. But I’m loving it too much to care. At least until he moves.
He pulls out and rolls me onto my side, only to get behind me. It's a position we've done a million times, and yet this time feels different, like he's making it so he doesn't have to see my face.
Like he's making it so he can picture it's her.
“Always so good,” he coos as he pushes inside of me from behind. “So fucking good for me.”
I try to push the thoughts from my mind, to convince myself I'm just paranoid and to stay in the moment, but I can't. It's eating me alive from the inside out. But like he said before, all we've done tonight is argue. If I stop him now, if I ruin this, it might be the final straw.
So, instead of pushing him away, both physically and figuratively, I stay still and let him pound into me—tears slipping out and pooling on the pillow as he chases his own high.
I LIE AWAKE EACH night for days, staring at the ceiling. Easton has one arm draped across my stomach as he sleeps soundly beside me. Minutes feel like hours, and my mind will not shut off. It's reeling, playing the events of the last two weeks on a loop, and I can't seem to shake the feeling in my gut.
He's lying.
He's a cheater.
He's in love with her.
The monsters are there, in the dark parts of my mind, convincing me to run. To leave him and never look back. And lately, it's becoming harder to find reasons to stay than it is to go.
A couple weeks ago, the thought of walking away from him was enough to send me into a panic attack. Despite everything he did, I couldn't find it in me to leave. It's like I needed him in order to breathe. But now, as the dust starts to settle, I don't know where we go from here.
I don't know how to get over this.
I don't know if I can.
Accepting the fact that I'm not going to get any sleep, I once again slip out of Easton's hold and climb off the bed. The room is dark, only illuminated by the moonlight, but I manage to spot my bag sitting on the floor next to the dresser. I pull a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt out of it. When I go to pick up my bra, however, I notice Easton's phone lying on the floor. It’s exactly where it landed after he threw it during yet another argument that preceded desperate hate sex.
Like most nights lately.
I pick it up and place it on the dresser before making quick work of getting dressed. As I pull my shirt over my head, my eyes land on it again.
I bet he's still sneaking around.
Go through his phone. You'll see.
No. No, I can't.
Looking over at Easton, I notice he's fast asleep. If I were to have a look, he would never know. And even if he did, if he has nothing to hide, he shouldn't care.
Just take a little peek.
I grab the phone off the dresser and press a button, making it come to life. It only takes a second for me to put in his password. I bite my lip nervously and open his text messages.
Kennedy Lehigh
Zayn Bronsyn
