Page 84 of This Woman


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Fuck knows how long later, I glance out of the window, seeing the sun going down. I reach up with a wobbly hand to unfasten the top button of my shirt as I get up and go to the cabinet. There’s a knock at the door. “Go away,” I mumble.

More vodka.

I’m ignored, and the door opens. Sarah walks in, her eyes falling to the bottle in my hand. “Want some help unwinding?”

“No, I want to be alone,” I snap, not that my drunken slur penetrates her thick skin.

She says no more and closes the door behind her, and I stagger to the couch, flopping down, the soft cushion feeling like iron against my pounding head. It’s not pounding with the effects of alcohol. It’s still fucking pounding with visions, memories, and fucking feelings. How much do I need to drink to make this all go away? Will it ever go away? Will I ever return to the welcome place of nothingness?

More vodka.

Restless, I get up and start pacing my office, my legs unstable, my big body swaying. Why the fuck am I still hurting?

More vodka.

Knock, knock.

“I said—” I look at my office door when it opens.

And stare at Freja Van Der Haus on the threshold.

She pulls the tie of her overcoat. Shrugs it off. My eyes drop down her bare body.

“Shut the door,” I order harshly, placing my bottle on the cabinet as she obeys. I scrub my hands down my rough cheeks, wrestling away the fact that she looks nothing like Ava. At least twenty years older. More meat on her bones. Blonde hair. Too much makeup. She couldn’t be any more different. “Come here.”

She wanders slowly over, and even through my drunken eyes, I see her body lighting up. She stops in front of me.

Forget.

Eliminate her.

Do whatever it takes to free myself of this nightmare. And, more importantly, free Ava of me. And the daze of the alcohol kicks in—yes, this is familiar.A willing woman. No fight.This. Is. How. I. Fuck.It doesn’t matter which pussy. Just a willing fuck.“Turn around,” I say, my voice groggy. She slowly turns, looking over her shoulder coyly. She wants foreplay. A build-up. An extended session to blow her mind.

I haven’t the inclination to please her, just the desperate need to escape. I grab a condom and clasp her neck with one hand, walking her across my office to the sofa, applying pressure, encouraging her to bend over as I unfasten my belt and yank my trousers open. My limp dick falls into my hand. I stroke it, willing it to life, begging it to harden, the strain and effort almost too much. I slip the condom on with some effort, and with my hand on her back, I guide myself to her wet, begging pussy and push my way inside her with no warning or consideration. She’s ready. Always ready.

They always are.

I grunt, taking her hips, ignoring how wrong she feels. How wrong all of this is. She cries out, I bite down on my back teeth, and I start thrusting, my head dropped back, unwilling to look at her, unwilling to reason with myself. Fuck her hard.Do what you do best, Ward.I’m not capable of loving. I’m only capable of fucking. It’s all I know, all I’m good for.

You deserve nothing more than this meaningless pleasure.

Leave your feelings at the door.

I bellow at the ceiling, starting to pound her hard, my fingers clawing into her hips. This isn’t pleasurable. It’s not serving its purpose. Sarah was right to laugh at me. To think I could have Ava. That's why she sent this woman here.

I feel a hand on my back and drop my head, looking over my shoulder. A seductive smile greets me. I growl, pulling free of one pussy, and drag the woman in front of me, bending her over the couch beside Freja and burying my dick in another on a yell. She screams her delight, her head thrashing around immediately.

Sweat starts to seep through my shirt, my face strained, my dick sore. I force my eyes to the woman’s back. Then to Freja, who’s watching, waiting for her turn again. I blink when her face starts to distort, my vision fuzzy, my brain feeling like it’s smacking against the side of my skull as I try to bang myself free of my cage.

They’re. Not. Who. I. Want.

Trapped.

“Fuck!” I bark, pulling out fast and swinging around, my hands delving into my hair. “Get out,” I bellow, stalking to the door and swinging it open. “Get the fuck out!”

Both women scurry away, their faces expressions of pure shock, and I immediately hate myself more. They didn’t deserve that. But I’m in no fit state to right my wrongs.

I slam the door behind them.

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