I sigh in exhaustion throwing my belongings all over my homes living room. Who knew at 19 I'd already be so sick of my life. The only thing that ever happens interesting to me is Wentworth.
After the interview he put some space between us, instead of hotels I decided it'd be better to meet at my house alone. From every other night to waiting for a whole month for his touch was driving me insane.
I pull out my phone and decide to text him:
Me: busy? Went: no, 2 hours? Me: perfect
If only everyone knew how not perfect life is. I shower, comb my hair, find my sexiest underwear, not that any of it matters to him. He gets what he needs and leaves.
Always.
The 2 hours fly by, it meant a lot for me to impress him. I hear a ring at the front door followed by the three knocks he always does, so I know it's him.
"Hey." I whisper. "Hey." He speaks back, his voice bouncing off the walls, to and from everywhere. His deep and mature voice, laced with lust and apart from that not a single other care.
Usually he doesn't even give me time to speak, it's just straight to sex, sometimes not even a reply at all.
Seconds later he raises his hand to my cheek, stroking it with a tight grip as he pushes himself against me. Both of us backed up on the front door. His left leg is in between my two legs and his other hand cupping my breasts. I moan into the kiss, his lips connecting to my neck.
Peppering my upper body with kisses as he guides me to the bedroom. He grabs a condom and places his hands on both sides of my head holding himself upright. I stare at his face, admire the way his eyebrows knit together as he thrusts in and out. How his whole face scrunches and how he grunts as he comes down to kiss my breasts in between thrusts.
He never looks me in the eyes. Always at my body or lips. I'm the idiot who waits for him to notice me.
My nails drag down his back and body goes limp as I simultaneously release with him. He leans down leaving some more open mouthed kisses on my face as well as chest. I sigh out in pleasure and then feel him lay down next to me. His face turned the other way. Probably regretting what happened. And always happens between us.
On any other day he would leave straight away. As soon as we've finished he'd grab his shirt and dress himself before leaving. Sometimes when I fall asleep he even showers.
I don't know why I keep expecting things to be different today but God keeps letting me down. I feel my heart shatter when he gets out of the bed. He grabs a towel and some of the clothes he keeps here, out of the cupboard and walks into the bathroom.
When I can finally hear the water start running I silently cry. He doesn't really care about me. He has a boyfriend he loves and could give his life for back at home. I'm just a time pass.
Fixing myself up and pulling off a believable smile I walk into the bathroom. My underwear back on. I open the sliding shower doors and he looks at me as though what are you doing here?
Hesitantly I place both my hands on his shoulders, I pat them as though I'm reassuring myself but it's more to let him know I'm about to do something and he needs to wait. He allows my hands to travel down to his torso, his so carefully maintained beautiful body. Savouring each touch, I lower myself so I can kiss him where his boxers straps usually start.
Except he's not wearing them in the shower and I have a handful of him in my hands. I bring his length to my mouth and then get to work. His head rocks back as he bucks his hips, his hand holding my hair out the way as the water from the shower head still falls onto both of us. Our voices echoing throughout the whole house.
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A/N (Current picture in my head minus the shirt)
STORY CARRIED ON
After that we both shower silently, together. Who knew for a man so old he could look and feel so young.
Yawning I try to keep my eyes open but the heat of the water is too tempting. Yet I don't want to leave Wentworth's side. I step out the shower and dry myself before going back into bed completely naked.
A few minutes later Went follows out, smelling strong of aftershave. My best guess is he shaved whilst in the bathroom. "You can stay if you want." I yawn out trying not to sound desperate or bothered whilst slowly looking up to him. He looks at me his car keys in his hands. Wentworth scratches the back of his head before turning around.
"Can't tonight." Is all he says. My hearts broken pieces sizzling crisp, dark and burnt. I can hear him as he ties his shoelaces. He comes back to me, leaning down to kiss me one more time before he leaves, as always.
But today he sits on the bed and kisses me longer and harder. Almost as though it's like he won't be coming back. Before anything else can happen. He's out of the door and I can hear his engine revving, until he finally drives off.
