He groaned and stuck a finger inside me. Holy guacamole! I have to stop this craziness.
“You sure don’t feel like you want me to stop, baby. You still feel like nirvana….my f**king nirvana.” He growled possessively.
I was going to say “Kyle—we have to stop” but I ended up moaning his named when he started to grind his finger at the ridged spot inside me. Kyle had the magic fingers, hands down. He knew it too.
Damn, those happy bubbles are making me delirious. My body broke out in sweat and I am at the very tip of surrender.
“You don’t want this, Sienna? Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to stop touching you?” His finger was relentless and I whimpered in frustration. “You have to try harder baby—because I sure wouldn’t stop. Fuck no—not when I have you all to myself, spread-eagled and readily f**kable.” He propped on one elbow and captured my nipple with his other finger still stuck inside me.
Oh, shit cakes.
He kissed my neck and squeezed my breast with his soaked finger. “I love you—so damn much.”
“Kyle—maybe—” he silenced me with a kiss. I felt him shift and his finger found my pu**y again. I was writhing in pure tormented physical and mental agony.
He took out his finger and took hold of my hips and plunged inside me with one quick thrust. My eyes widened when I felt him thrust deeper. Oh hell, when did he take off his pants?
“Shit—baby!” he groaned as he slid in and out of me. “I love you,” muttering through closed eyes as he found momentum and drove harder inside me.
There was no going back…I felt wretched when my body responded to him.
So much for resistance.
He screamed my name as he came and my body rode along with him in harmonious orgasm.
When Kyle gathered me in his arms and finally fell asleep, I felt a hot tear slide down the side of my face.
Blake…..
13
Blake
It was already ten in the morning and still I haven’t heard from Sienna. Toby left for the office around seven thirty. I should be at work too but I was set in waiting for Sienna.
Lucy was somewhere in her room. She looked pained for reasons I do not know. When I asked, she simply shrugged and pretended everything was okay.
I was in the kitchen working through emails. I got up when I noticed my cup was empty and needed a refill. I strode to the coffee machine. I poured coffee and added two teaspoons of sugar. When I heard the rustle of the key grating in the lock, my body tensed in anticipation.
Heavy thud of high-heeled shoes and a happy masculine voice echoed in the quiet atmosphere, it’s the pathetic prick—with Sienna.
I strode over to them without much ado. Sienna’s face lost all its blood when she saw me. The tosser didn’t even see it coming. I threw a heavy upper-cut punch that landed perfectly underneath his jaw.
Sienna screamed but I didn’t hear her. I was blinded by rage. I was blinded by jealousy. I was blinded by pain. I was blinded by Sienna.
Kyle found his balance and attempted to punch me but I caught him and threw a fist and connected beautifully with the side of his face. He thrashed and lunged for me. His fist landed squarely on my jaw—but I didn’t feel pain. I was about to take him down on the floor and kill the bloody bastard when Luce threw herself in the middle of the blasted fight.
“You—you need to go home, this very instant.” She pointed at Kyle who grunted and Sienna came to his rescue—fucking twit that he is.
He flinched when she tried to touch his bleeding face. He muttered “I’ll call you later” before leaving the flat. He looked like nutty and livid.
“You need to leave the flat too—” Luce glared furiously at me.
I stared at Sienna for another second and strode back to the kitchen and gathered my belongings. I do not want to stay here either.
It took her two hellish minutes to follow me. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Her voice shook as she asked. I ignored her questions.
I don’t trust myself this instant. I might just choke the life out of her.
My woman is wearing a man’s dress shirt. She wore his dress shirt. She wore his bloody f**king dress shirt!!!
It took every ounce in me not to turn around and wrench that blasted shirt into smithereens. But what’s decapitating my wretched heart and mind—is the very question I’m stupefied to ask is “Did you f**k him?”
“Blake—please—talk to me.” She gently tugged on my arm.
“Do. Not. Fucking. Touch. Me.” I said through gritted teeth. My hands were crammed with my laptop, papers, chargers and my phone. I left her there crying as I marched back to her room and packed it in my overnight bag. I was zipping it closed when I felt her wrap her arms around my waist. Her wet tears soaked my back. I closed my eyes and prayed for reason as she sobbed noisily.
“Stop, please—look at me, Blake,” she pleaded.
But I couldn’t. For the life of me—I couldn’t.
I need to leave but it was hard to move. The simple task of breathing was bloody difficult. I’m shattered into pieces but I had to know or I would be forever in a hellish wonderment. “Did you f**k him?” Her body tensed and completely halted her breathing.
Counting from one to ten, my patience was thinning. “DID YOU or DID YOU NOT FUCK HIM?!!!” She tightened her hold. “ANSWER ME, DAMN YOU!” I snarled ferociously.
“Yes….” she whispered.
A pained guttural sound came from my throat. I pushed her arms off me, took my bag and slammed her door shut and left the apartment.
My heart was erratic as I tried to breathe.
She did it…. She finally did it. I’m irreparable.
I had no clue how I got back to my apartment in Mayfair, but I did. I went to the bar and grabbed the nearest bottle of cognac. I took a long gulp and headed straight to my bedroom. Her silk robe sat on the foot of the bed. I hurled myself on top of it and cursed her. I called her names but the pain didn’t subside, it merely intensified.
I cried, I cried from the wounding pain that’s eating me and my whole existence.
I don’t think I can recover from this. I cannot believe she would let another man touch her.
She f**ked him.
She really did.
Did she enjoy it? Did she scream his name as she came? Does she enjoy hurting me? I am tormenting myself even more with torturous questions—because I am hurt and sadly, permanently broken.
I finished the cognac to its very last drop. I was numb but the sunken ache, rotting heinously inside of me didn’t leave me.