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Loving to his own detriment. Merciless to mine.

He hates himself right now.

For wanting this. For needing to touch me even when he hates me.

He despises himself for letting the poison of our union affect him the way it does.

“I can’t look at you,” he seethes. A complete contradiction to the way his tongue laps at mine eagerly.

Breaking our kiss, I take a step back, not in the least ashamed of how disgustingly desperate I am for this man.

I turn without a word, my hands grasping my panties to slide them down my thighs.

I can feel his breath on my neck.

Watching.

Waiting.

I step forward, lifting a knee to slide it along the bed, but his hand grips at my hair.

“Just bend over the bed. No need to get comfortable.”

My throat tightens with emotion the same way my pussy does with anticipation.

I do as he says, arms sliding into the mussed sheets in front of me, bent at the waist, ready and waiting.

Is this what rock bottom feels like?

The farewell of our self-worth?

This isn’t hate fucking, but it sure as hell isn’t making love.

This is nothing but a selfish sorrowful attempt to erase our pain.

We’re brokenhearted fucking, and as Brooks slides urgently inside me, I conclude it’s the saddest, most depressing moment of my entire existence.

I want to cry.

I want to sob.

But I don’t want him to stop.

I’m a fucking mess.

He barely touches me as he thrusts in and out of my body, and I’ve never felt so detached from anything or anyone in my entire life.

I think that’s what hurts the most right now.

Brooks is the only person I’ve ever feltconnectedto, and now, he’s taking that away from me with every aloof drive of his hips.

A low growl sounds in his throat, but he clears it as quickly as it comes on, a small sniff giving away the thick roll of emotion coursing through him.

I chance a look over my shoulder, and our eyes collide.

He holds my stare, the blue of his eyes almost black with disaffection.

“Your body responds to mine with limited touch. My cock alone is enough to make you throb,” he seethes. “Do you feel that, Henley?” He slams forward, and I choke on my own breath.

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