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Yes, that’s where I’m going to go.
It’s not completely dark, though, because I can see that stranger’s face.
Clayton.
I gasp.
How did I even get here?
For once, the dark leads me to a safe place, and I’ll stay for as long as I can. Clayton has got to be my story tonight because I won’t survive reality this time.
Those pair of magnificent eyes…
I release a long, peaceful breath as I visualize them.
They’re stunned to see me, but there’s patience and graciousness in them. He touches me the way I long to be touched—like the man intends to please me because he cherishes me.
Clayton starts slow, savoring every inch of my skin when piece by piece, my clothing is peeled off. And once I’m naked, he lets his desire lead him. Firstly, he clutches my thighs to keep them parted, then he rubs the surface of my pussy, heightening my needs.
I moan.
“God, bitch!”
That voice shreds my heaven.
Worse still, I feel something crushing my neck.
“The fuck, Iz!” Don stares down at me.
What have I done?
“Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“No… why?” I gasp.
“Fuck, your cunt feels tight tonight.”
I choke when he finally lets my throat loose. I then compose myself, shooting him a hungry look. “Because your cock is so damn hard.”
He cracks a smooth smile like he’s Don Juan. Perhaps no one ever said that to him, or I managed to convince him it was the truth. Soon he places his arm back on my throat.
“Don…” I barely huff out his name.
I shake under the ruthless force. Breathless, I dare myself to imagine Clayton. One more time. If I’m to take my last breath now, I want him to be on my mind.
But Don lets go.
Although I wish he hadn’t. Because, to my horror, he ditches the condom. He hasn’t come, and he has something in his mind. He had hinted at blowjobs before we left L.A., but this man isn’t after my mouth.
“No! Don’t you dare!” I yell and roll myself away from under his body.
He grabs me, and I kick him in the gut, then hurl myself off the bed. I crawl toward the door.
“Bitch!” He drags me by the leg, then tosses my body to the middle of the bed. He savagely falls on me, breaking my spirit like a giant hand snapping a toothpick.
I fight mindlessly.
“You’re damaged goods,” he growls to my ear, pinning me down. “I’m not gonna knock you up if that’s what you’re fretting about.”
