Betrayal

Chapter 23

Soft light wakes me.

I'm burning hot and take a deep breath, then look down. His arms are wrapped around my body and one of his legs is thrown across mine, trapping me against him. It's his body that's so hot. It's making me sweat.

I touch his skin and trace the veins from his forearm down to the top of his hand. His skin is tan and warm and soft. I fell asleep in his arms while I listened to the rain. Last night doesn't seem real. I can't believe where I'm at right now. I'm in his bed at his home. Where he sleeps with his wife. He fucked me in their bed.

I close my eyes and try not to think about that. That was so wrong. Really fucking wrong. Probably the worst thing we've done together. It's all been bad, but this is a different level of debauchery.

As I think of the things we did, my stomach drops and begins to ache. It arouses me through the guilt. He choked me, slapped me, spit in my mouth. It was so degrading... and I loved it. My bottom lip is sore and tender to the touch from where he struck me. The way his face looked, how he stared back at me, is burned into my brain. He liked it, too. It was incredibly intense.

I can't believe I asked him to hurt me. I wasn't myself. I don't know what came over me. I just wanted to feel some sort of pain and he gave it to me. It fed a desire I didn't even realize I had. I would've never thought I'd ask someone to hurt me that way.

I tilt my head up on the pillow. There's a clock on the nightstand. It's almost eight thirty. I feel dread settling into my stomach. I have to have my mother cremated today. Everything I've felt since finding out she passed has been so confusing, but what he said yesterday has stuck with me. I'm allowed to feel hurt. She's my mother. Even if I hated her and didn't speak to her, it's allowed to hurt me.

I'll never get to see her clean from drugs. I'll never get to speak to her about why she was the way she was. Ask her why I wasn't enough for her to change. I'll never have any opportunity to have an actual mother or feel loved by the one person who was supposed to love me unconditionally.

Tears try to prick my eyes and I rub at both of them to try to combat it. I don't want to cry anymore. I did enough of that yesterday. I'll save my tears for later when I have to have her cremated. Until then, I'll try to keep it together.

I don't want to move away from his hold because it feels so good, but I have to go to the bathroom. I can't hold it. As I ease out of his firm grasp, he sighs, and when I'm standing he rolls onto his side with his back to me. I focus on the way it looks, the muscles, from his neck down to his waist where the covers are bunched.

A door is propped open and I go to it, close it behind me, and go right for the toilet. His come is still inside of me and is dried on my thighs. I passed out not long after we fucked. I couldn't help it.

When I'm finished I wash my hands and let my eyes roam. There's a double sink, a glassed in shower, and a jacuzzi tub. The gray and white tiles are cool beneath my bare feet. It's a beautiful bathroom that's incredibly clean and neat.

I find a washcloth and wet it, clean my face, and pat it dry. My eyes are sore and the dark circles under them are much more noticeable than usual. I look tired. I focus on the small split on my bottom lip and sigh. An image of him slapping me comes to mind again and makes me shudder. I want him so badly so suddenly that it makes my insides hurt.

There's a robe hanging on the back of the door. I take it and pull it on. It's lined black and blue, silky, and obviously expensive. His initials are embroidered on the left side. It's so big the sleeves hang over my fingers and the bottom nearly touches the ground. I tie it tight, then step out.