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Another slap sends me sideways, head lolling to the side until the back of his hand sends me the other way. “More,” he grunts, grasping into my thigh. “Make me come.”
I’m coming. I can feel it. My breathing grates out at the intensity, pulling to a halt as I start to feel it crashing over me. Everything tenses in me to let it come, let it build further.
Another slap assaults me. Harsh and unyielding and sending a wave of pain over the top of the orgasm, and then I’m grabbed severely and shunted about on him. Back and forth, forth and back. Everything crashes and tumbles, my legs and arms like jelly as he finishes himself off on my languid body.
Grunts and growls sound out, his fingers holding me so tightly. I’m dragged forward, body limp in his grasp until I’m up against his lips and we’re kissing again. More grunts. More growls of hedonism into my lips, and then he’s pushing me downwards. “Show me the story you told me. Make it real for me,” he growls.
My legs fall to the floor, neck wrenched about in his hold to get me to him again. My mouth opens of its own accord, thoughts of swallowing him down flooding me with memories of dark corners and shadows. I can smell it, smell his need in the air around me. So hot. All of it. Him. Me. Us. Fucking. His cock is pushed into my mouth and down my throat before I manage to ask for it.
I gag, struggling with his size, and wait for the hot jet of come to seep into me. Harsh hands. Harsh hold. Painful, and yet I’m in a maze of wants and desires. Held. Hit. Pushed and made to behave accordingly.
Behave accordingly.
He comes eventually. It pours into me like white heat finding something to soothe it, cool it down. I swallow and grip onto the arm of the chair, the other hand clasped onto his forearm holding my head still. Muscles. I can feel them tense under my fingers. Heavy and dense. And the taste consumes me more than the sensations. It’s new, bold and alive inside me.
I lap and draw my tongue over the flesh, all the time listening to his low groans and grunts. Such a nice noise. Low. Growled, as if possessive of something. Me maybe. Who knows? It's comforting, though.
Warm.
The hand holding me tosses me suddenly, as if I’m irrelevant, and I fall backwards to the floor in a heap. My hands brace the ground, body trying to rise from the tumble. I don’t understand. It was good, wasn’t it? I stare at the carpet blankly, trying to find sense, and then laugh lowly at the thought of care here. It was good for me. Wanton and sensual. Something I wanted and enjoyed. And that’s enough for me now. Manhandled and pushed to pass limits of comfort is fine, invigorating even.
Clapping sounds somewhere close by. I start turning at the sound of it, unsure if it’s Gray or someone else. A hand picks my hair up immediately, twisting my head to look upwards. “But she’s not crying, Gray. I expected more.” Dark tan features look down at me, a murky smile on his face as he wrenches my head. Malachi. I gaze, my eyes like whirlpools as I try to take him in. So tall above me. So calm.Malachi says take another pill.“Pretty, though prettier with tears.”
I’m dropped to the floor the second he says it, castoff, and then a laugh echoes. It’s loud, amused. He’s laughing at me.Prettier with tears. I grumble to myself and crawl forward, searching for something to get me out of here. I took another pill because of him. That was three maybe, four? I don’t know anymore. No tears, though. Never will I cry for a man again.
“Gray?”
No answer. Just more distant laughing reverberating around the walls and floor. My hand lifts, fingers trying to feel him again, and I watch the chain glinting in the light. I should put this on him. Stay safe. He said he’d look after me here. Keep the others away. I don’t think I care about that. I just want more of his touch, more of his power on me.
Malachi says.
Hours seem to go by. Maybe. I don’t know about that either. Maybe it’s only minutes and it just feels like hours to me. I’m crawling the floor, though. Unable to get up or move muscles, as I creep through a doorway. Everything feels so heavy. Tired. I should sleep somewhere. Curl up into a ball and wait this out.
Malachi says take another pill.
I did, and now nothing works.
I finally get to the corner I was aiming for and huddle myself in it, bringing my legs to my chest for comfort. Cold now. No heat like there was when I was with Gray. Where is he? I clutch the gold chain and stare into the room, eyes slowly registering the books and dust around me. It’s all covered in a layer of dust, forgotten about and left to rot. I’m like that now. Left to rot after the event. Discarded having been used.
So empty again.
So lost.
~
I can hear a sigh. Long and blown out as if the world is ending. It’s enough for me to pull the covers up around me and try to ignore it because the world has ended. My husband’s dead, and, previous to him finding the fucking audacity to die, he fucked other women behind my back for fun.
Asshole.
I pull my legs up into a ball and snuggle into the pillow, trying to get comfortable so I can ignore the world some more. It isn’t comfortable, though. It’s hard and ridged, as if someone’s stuffed iron bars through it. It feels like a prison would. Unbreakable. Immovable.
Still, I’m not leaving it yet. I’ll lie here until I can’t anymore and then maybe I’ll be able to make sense of what my life is now. Empty is what it is. I don’t want empty. Empty is cold and lacking substance. I told Gray I needed that – substance. Why I thought he could deliver anything I don’t know. He’s no one. My dead husband’s boss. Attractive, though. Pretty lips.
Hard and callous on me.
My eyes fly open, mind reeling with memories, as I suck in breaths. We kissed. I sucked him off and swallowed his come. I stare blankly into the room around me, panting and letting all the feelings come. Hard. Harsh. He slapped me and ….
“You’re alright, Hannah,” his voice says. Something strokes my head, pushing it quietly back down. “Relax and let yourself ease off.” It’s only then that I realise I’m on his stomach, his long legs stretched out in front of my eyes towards the floor. I slink back against him and rub my face into his shirt, enjoying the scent of it. Potent. Smells manly. Spicy. Soft notes of something else, though. Flowers. Summer in a rain storm.
