I can't help the moan that escapes my mouth at the taste of her tongue against mine, and my hips pulse reflexively up to meet hers. But before I can reach the heat emanating from her core, she grasps my neck in her hand and pushes me away, pressing...
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I have never slept soundly. Never without night terrors that made me twitch in my sleep. I would often wake in the middle of the night, my skin dripping with sweat, yet my body shivering from cold. My sheets were so drenched that I couldn't possibly fall back asleep in the wet spot. I would often have to walk to my bathroom closet and pull out a towel. Laying on the scratchy towel surface would, while uncomfortable, made it so I wouldn't have to lay in a puddle of my own sweat. Even then, I would oven sweat through the towels, while feeling far too cold to pull the covers from my body. It was this recurring and all-encompassing rollercoaster from hell, yet I couldn't figure a way to safely dismount without losing the infinitesimal pieces of good that somehow managed to burry themselves inside me with a painful stronghold. I was trapped.
And yet...
I slowly pulled myself from sleep feeling abundantly different sensations than usual.
The sun was tickling my face as my sheer curtains allowed the soft rays reluctant entrance. I felt a sense of peace as I snuggled into the covers, finding a warmth that I was far too comfortable to give up. Soft and smooth to the touch. In confusion, I stroked the mass, maintaining a facade of confidence as my soft fingers slightly trembled over smooth skin. Inside, my heart was pounding and my nerves were high on end, goosebumps peppering my skin. I leaned into the a dip and took an inhale.
Kai.
Somehow he slithered his way into my room, without waking me. If there's anything I hate, it's vulnerability. No one is allowed in my bed. I tend to lead my conquests straight to the guest bedroom when I need a quick release. The first time I fucked in my bed was when I had Kai tied up and writhing beneath me with untenable desperation. I've broken so many rules with him. To the point where he thinks he has the fucking right to enter my bed without my permission.
The worst thing about the whole situation is that I don't think I have ever slept so soundly. I lift the sheets and, to my surprise, they are dry. Clear of the layers of cold-sweats that grace my sheets. Not a single, solitary damp spot. The anger is bubbling up. Perhaps it's misplaced, but at this point in time, I couldn't fucking care less.
I quickly spring up, feeling a heavy weight slowly settling on my shoulders, invading my senses, applying pressure to old wounds. I felt my spiral coming, like an itch demanding to be scratched, but I'm holding it off. I can't let it escape in his presence.
I straddle his waist and grip his throat, watching as his eyes flutter open, assessing his surroundings in confusion. I watch as the confusion subsides once his eyes move to mine. He smiles, but there is something else behind that smile. An expression that I'm more than familiar with. An expression that I despise more than ever.
Pity.
"What the fuck are you doing in my bed." I spit out the words as calmly as I possibly can, yet I can't keep the slight snarl that shapes my lips, I cant help the way my eyes narrow in accusation.
