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⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️
The content of this chapter contains sensitive material that may be distressing or triggering to some individuals. Topics include mention of self-harm. Please proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being. If you need support, please reach out to a trusted person or call 911!

 If you need support, please reach out to a trusted person or call 911!

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Dominic

You were different, my baby
Now I see you're just like the rest
Thought you were different, my baby
You've become my biggest regret

The only sounds filling the room were the rhythmic slaps of our bodies colliding and the unrestrained moans spilling from her lips, echoing off the walls like a sensual symphony.

The air was thick with heat, sweat, and the lingering scent of sex, wrapping around us like an intoxicating haze. I wasn't even sure how we had ended up here, tangled in the sheets of her bed, but here I was, fucking her with a fervor that I had no real reason for.

Nayeli had hit me up earlier in the day, practically begging me to come over since we hadn't seen each other since I left for Bermuda. She was on me the moment I stepped inside her apartment, clinging to me like her life depended on it. She said she missed me, but the way she answered the door-clad in nothing but a red lace thong told me she had more than just nostalgia on her mind.

It had started in the living room, her lips wrapped around my dick while I lounged back, a blunt burning between my fingers. The sensation of her throat tightening around me as I took a slow, deep inhale of smoke was damn near euphoric. One moment, I was basking in the high, her warm mouth working me over with precision; the next, I had her bent over the edge of her bed, gripping her hips as I drove into her with deliberate force.

My right hand snaked around her throat, pulling her back against me so l could see her face. Her dark brown eyes, glazed with pleasure, held me captive–-not because I felt anything for her, but because they reminded me of her.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get Raelle out of my head. Since Bermuda, she had taken up permanent residence in my mind, haunting me in ways I never thought possible. Coming over here, fucking Nayeli until she screamed my name, was supposed to be a distraction. Instead, it only made me think of Raelle more.

Every moan Nayeli let out, every arch of her back, every shiver that rolled through her body--it all sent me spiraling back to the way Raelle looked in the throes of pleasure. The way her nose scrunched up when she was close, the way her teeth sank into her plump bottom lip as she tried to hold back her cries. The memory alone was enough to make my muscles coil in anticipation of release. Lately, the only way I could come was if I thought of her, and that shit infuriated me.

Her voice replayed in my head like a cruel taunt: "I want you to think of me every time you fuck that bitch." Her tone had been so certain, so commanding as if she already knew the power she held over me. And the worst part? She was right.

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