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The reflection is pure, carnal, aggressive lust. Dark and consuming. Enough to possess and make you forget how to breathe.
Nothing else matters except for the spine-tingling punch of his hips and the fullness he brings me.
I clench around his dick and cry out from how good he feels. Immediately after, a pang of guilt settles in my stomach. Then he hits the right spot and all is forgotten. I’m back to keening, shuddering as he pounds away.
Every word he’s said is true—I am incapable of resisting him. I melt at the thought of his touch. All the while fully knowing how bad he is for me.
Only to regret it immediately afterward.
Yet the next time, I’m falling prey like it’s a lesson I haven’t learned.
I’m mere seconds away from coming, my mouth hanging open in anticipation, when Salvatore wrenches himself off me.
I stumble, dazed and aroused, my heart beating fast. He’s stroking himself, finishing in a paper towel he’s snatched from the dispenser. I watch in distraught confusion as he comes and tosses the crumpled paper towel into the trash bin. He steps to the sink and begins washing his hands.
My pussy’s still throbbing, begging for more of his dick. My body abuzz, I was so close to coming. The shock must live on my face.
Salvatore stares at me in the mirror, a spiteful glint about him. “You’re as fucked up as I am, Phi. That’s why we’re drawn to each other. The difference is you like to pretend.”
With that, he turns and walks out, leaving me alone.
The reality of what’s happened unloads on me at once. The guilt and the shame and the embarrassment.
I pick my panties off the floor and push down my dress. I wince at my reflection in the mirror—my curls are in a state of disarray, my make up is smudged, my brown skin sheens with perspiration. He made a mess of me and he left.
He didn’t let me come; he knows my body well enough to tell I was about to.
I let him do it. I fell for his revenge like a lamb led to slaughter.
A frustrated breath rattles out of me as I clean myself up best I can. What do I even say to Cade? How can I possibly look him in the eye after…
I’ve been gone for twenty minutes.
Hesitant and regretful, I emerge from the women’s restroom. The tapas bar is as loud and lively as I when I wandered off. The place is still crowded and the live music plays on. I zero in on the table I’d been sitting at with Cade.
Empty.
Several bills have been tossed onto the table, left as a tip for the server.
It’s the final crushing blow that does it. That forces me to face the truth.
Iamfucked up. I’m a mess. I’ve told myself I’ve gotten better… but what does that mean?
In the months since my rape, I’ve gotten involved with my mafia ex-boyfriend. I’ve betrayed my beliefs in law and order and sought vengeance against the man who hurt me—against any man I could find who fit the profile.
If the truth is ever discovered, I’m going to be thrown behind bars. An utter and total disgrace to my family name. My life wasted away.
You’d think I’d stop. I’d recognize these things are bad for me, but as I rush out of the tapas bar and wander down the city street, my adrenaline is racing.
My mind is on clubs like Two-Twelve, where I can scope out a new mark to take down. I’m thinking about men like Skip Little, who escaped the punishment he’s owed for murdering his stepson.
The hunger rises up, its own kind of dangerous desire. Tonight, I was left unfulfilled by Salvatore.
I could sate myself in other ways…
I shake the dark thoughts away and stick my arm up to hail a taxi.
Home. I need to go home.
