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I need more outlets. Something is eating me up inside and I can't point it out. I know I enjoyed what I did. I know I want to do it again. But why do I feel like shit?
I turn on the shower and go under it.
The fleeting nature of life. One minute you know what you planned to do, and the next an action triggers a different reaction from you.
I punch the chocolate brown tiles of my bathroom, and the warm shower cascades on my head down my body.
This is a side of me that I keep away from every other woman I've been with and it's for a reason. I know once I dive into this part of me, I'll want to keep sinking deeper and deeper until I reach the very bottom.
Like right now, I know she is sore, and I know she hates me, hell, even I hate me, but I can't help the fact that I want to go back in there and fuck my way through another orgasm. I want to take her to the very bottom with me. I want to own her. I want to teach her body things that she doesn't know she can like and make her crave them even though she hates them.
I grunt sharply.
We were fine. We were fucking fine. I had it under control. I wasn't going to let loose. I wasn't going to make it so damn hard for her. I was going to let her pleasure herself while I watchedand guided her to her climax. I wanted to do that for her. Because she came to me in her moment of need and I fucking wanted to be that person to care for her.
Then she fucking ruined it.
Who would bring up Claudio in my fucking bedroom? Who the fuck is he to find his way into my intimacy?
I grind my teeth and punch the wall again, wishing it were the face of that fucker that I am hitting. What will I not give to have this wall turn to him so I can vent my anger on something more deserving?
I turn off the shower and reach for a beige towel on the wall hanger to wrap around my waist.
The problem with letting yourself bask in a high is that when it drops, you crash back into the reality of all the damage you've caused while on the high. I care deeply for her. I've cared for her from the fucking first day I set my eyes on her and the only thing that stopped me was that she belonged to someone I cared greatly about too. I care so much that I cannot stand to be in the same room with her right now, knowing there's a stronger part of her that will not forgive me for tonight.
I exhale and walk out of my bathroom, bracing myself for what awaits me in my room. The damage caused by my high that I now need to fix. How I will fix it is the fucking question of the century.
I step out and my eyes immediately rake the room to see that she is not here.
She left.
Can I blame her?
Even I want to leave my own fucking body right now.
I walk to my bed and stare blankly at the now rumpled and thrown-over beige sheet, with darkened spots from body sweat and perhaps tears, and the sash from her robe hanging loosely to the floor.
The scent of coconut milk and sex is still potent in the air. I can still hear her screams and I can feel her fingers bruising me as she fights to break free from me. The rage in her eyes and the nos she snarled at me. All of it comes pouring into my berserk mind at once.
It will drive me mad, that is if it were possible to go any madder.
I sit and pluck my phone from the nightstand, needing to report myself. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be something to worry about, but this is Rosaline. She is not just a random hooker. She is not something I can get out of my system. Orazio was right. He should be worried.
I dial his number and nod to myself for the words I'll be hearing.
“Hey, love bug,” he grumbles into the receiver. He is more of a morning person, so chances are, I'm waking him up from sleep.
“Orazio,” I exhale. The sunken tone I'm using is enough to cue him.
“Go on, what have we done this time and how quickly do I need to dig up your grave?” His voice is clearer now. My tone whipped the sleep off him and he wouldn't be my best friend if he could not tell that that tone meant that I'd done something again.
“You were right,” I clear my throat. What the fuck am I even saying? He was right and I knew he was right all along. I'm doing this because somehow, I'm in desperate need of an ally.
“I'm always right, but about what, this time?” He puffs.
“About Rosaline.”
“Hey, honey pie, listen to me, don't do it,” he grunts, “Do you need me to come get you or something?” I can hear movements now and I'm sure he is about to drive down here.
