Chapter Ten #3
Blake fumbles with a condom, rolling it on, then climbing onto the bed.
Pushing my knees open, Blake falls down on top of me.
I can smell the strong stench of the scotch he’s been nursing all night and have to turn my head the other way to avoid it.
Blake lines himself up with my center and starts to push his way in.
When I wince, he doesn’t notice, too busy rutting, pushing in slightly, before pulling back out. “For fuck’s sake, Bristol, you’re making it hard on me.” My heart lodges in my throat. This isn’t what I wanted it to be like, but now I’m remembering how it was.
“I’m sorry, let me just . . .” I slip my hand between us, finding my clit and rubbing in soft circles the way I like it.
I let my eyes fall shut, trying to focus on the sensation when a pair of familiar emerald eyes appear, the strong, soft-spoken, tender man behind them looking down at me with so much awe and appreciation.
My heart stammers in my chest as my clit throbs against my fingers.
Blake slips inside easier, filling me in one hard thrust that makes my stomach roll with nausea. He starts to pull out, a fast drag of his dick before pushing hard back in, as I try to let myself get lost to the sensations, trying to stay in the moment.
My free hand runs the familiar length of his arms, over the swell of his shoulders and back down again, but every time I close my eyes, I’m greeted with a stare that is not the man currently inside me.
My pussy gets wetter, soaking my fingers, my heart pounding in my chest, as I do everything I can to focus on Blake, but no matter how hard I try, the only thing turning me on right now is imagining what it would be like if it were Rhys instead.
How he’d hold me close, how he’d check in on me, how he’d make sure I came before he ever got close.
I don’t know how I know those things, but I do.
“That’s it. You’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you?” My heart seizes in my chest, and I freeze my ministrations. “Fuck, that’s right, take it. My whore likes to be filled, huh? Likes to take cock any way I can give it to her?” he seethes as he jerks into me.
I tilt my head to the side as I gasp for air. Blake pounds into me, ruthlessly, harder than I would want. Just as I tap him, finally done with this bullshit and wanting him to get off, Blake comes with a loud, drawn-out pant.
He rolls off of me a second later, lying on his back with an arm covering his eyes as he catches his breath. Tears well in my eyes, my hands shaking. What the fuck just happened? Did he really just fuck me, call me a slut and a whore, come, and then it’s over?
Sex should be about open communication, and this certainly isn’t something we’ve ever talked about before. If Blake is into degrading his partners, he should talk to me before trying it.
I sniffle, sitting up and adjusting my bra, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but near Blake.
How the hell could he think any of this was okay?
So much for goddamn connection. My body tightens as if insects are crawling under my skin.
It’s a trapped kind of discomfort, the kind that makes me want to run without knowing where to go, to peel something away even though there’s nothing there to peel.
I just want out, even if I don’t know where “out” would be. All I know is I need to move.
“Are you seriously crying?” Blake snaps. Is he serious right now? Where the fuck is his concern? “Did you not come?”
“Do you think I want to be called a slut, Blake? Do you know me at all?”
“It’s sex talk, thought we’d try something new. Get over it. It’s not a big deal.”
“Don’t do it again. I hated it,” I say, wiping away my stupid tears and storming off to the bathroom.
I quickly pee and step into the shower to scrub my body free of what I just did, then get ready for bed on autopilot.
When I return to the bedroom, Blake is already under the blankets.
I guess cleaning up after sex tonight isn’t on his radar.
I pull back the sheets and climb in, lying on my side with my back facing him.
What has happened to us? Has it always been this shitty?
The tears I had washed away come back with a vengeance as I lie next to the man I thought I loved.
If I had to pinpoint the exact moment I realized I wasn’t happy in this relationship, that I had lost my self-worth, it would be right now.
It’s not like this is the first time Blake has let me down, hasn’t harmed me in some way, disappointed me, or left me unsatisfied.
It wasn’t overnight. It was more a gradual loss of everything that I thought he was and that we were and could be together.
To people on the outside, I have a perfect life, one that affords me the privilege of not wanting for a thing.
A beautiful home in a dream neighborhood, a career I’ve worked my entire life to have, a lifelong best friend who’s seen me through more ups and downs than a rollercoaster at a theme park, and a fiancé.
There are only two things on that list that I can’t live without, and Blake isn’t one of them.
That tells me everything I need to know. But it’s still sad.
“You’re seriously still crying?”
“Leave me alone, Blake. I just want to sleep. I’m not going to fight tonight.”
“You’re pathetic, Bristol. It’s not that big of a deal; you need to get over yourself. You’re mine, do you understand? You’re mine, so you better accept you’re not going anywhere. Don’t get any ideas.”
The last thought that crosses my mind before sleep and exhaustion takes me is that I’m no one’s but my own, and I need to prove that to him.