The sound of her slickness is filling the compact space of the car as I force her to watch herself as she comes. She shakes and convulses as her pussy, literally, drips all over the seat, coating the leather.
"There it is, Good Girl. Always so compl...
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Self Righteous ~ Bryson Tiller
She bolts out the gym, the door sliding shut in her wake. Maybe I have a greater chance than I thought. The memory of her face scrunching in pleasure as she grinds on my fingers replays over and over in my mind. Seeing her breathless and shaking for the first time in over three years has given me even more motivation to keep trying to break through her walls. I didn't even think what happened moments ago was possible. That she'd let me lay a finger on her. But she did. My mind continues to speak as I rise and move over to the bench press.
I've sat and questioned why I feel so connected to her. There are billions of other women, spread out across the five oceans and seven continents, but she's the only one that ignites the ash filled pit buried deep in my stomach. No woman has ever done it for me like she has. When she left, pain shackled itself to my shoulders and weighed on my soul. And that was when I thought she was to blame. When I found out she left due to my pure ignorance, the torment only worsened.
I was punished day and night. I'd sleep only to dream of her smile or how her curls would flow gracefully when we'd walk the paths of the California's beaches. I'd try to embrace her only to find that the space is now filled with sand, dissipating into the air. That dream haunted me every night for three years.
I never ment to let the names i called her slip from my lips. They were just manifestations of the agony I felt when I saw that picture. To see the woman I loved and planned on proposing too a week later, laughing at another man's jokes. Smiling in another's face. I thought I saw lust in her eyes but it was only ever friendship and warmth. Devotion to her brother.
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Mason opens the car door, allowing me to step out before closing it behind me. "Thank you Mase, I'll see you in the morning." He nods as I make my way through the lobby and call the lift. I'm scrolling through my emails mindlessly as I step into the contraption and swipe my keycard to direct it to my floor. There's multiple meeting requests that I forward to my assistant, Aidan, to organise in order of importance. I come across a email titled 'The Truth in Black and White' but before I can open it, my phone looses connection. Once the lift comes to a halt, I reload the email and it buffers as I stroll into our home.
