The Devil's Trail

13. Ignorance

I pull my bottom lip through my teeth, as I pull on a set of hips, willing them to keep going. To keep their rhythm, but the second they slack, my desperation airs out.

"Keep going." I pant feeling a small bud coil in my stomach.

"You like that don't you? Huh? You want it all?" A groan comes back at me.

"Yes. Please yes." I beg.

"I-I- Jesus Delilah you're hurting."  He speaks, causing me to pull my hands off his hips and flail them back against the bed.  "I'm almost there."

Don't you dare...

"No keep going."

"I can't. I- I–"

Then it happens.

"Fuck." Jack grunts stilling himself, stealing any source of excitement from me, instantly.

I should know his routine by now, but I am always so under satisfied that I always forget it as he drops down on me, winding me in the process. Before panting in my face, he then rolls off me and onto the bed. "Wow. That was so good."

For you maybe, you inconsiderate prick.

I simply smile, not wanting to ruin his moment. "Uh yeah, it was."

The lies had got convincing over time and I always had hope that one day it would happen. That he would take second in the cumming olympics. But he always took gold. Leaving me without my dose of endorphins or afterglow that so many women... Okay, Poppy always talked about.

I'm serious, that girl may as well have a halo around her hair from how well she glows and how soft her hair and clear her skin is.

Where as I may as well be one of the three pigs that the big bad wolf stalks. Or even a troll that lives under the bridge.

"Was that okay for you?" He asks rubbing his chest.

I nod. "Fine. You?"

"I was looking for a little more than that.." he laughs slightly.

"Great." I force out begrudgingly.

As I'm looking at him, I get the case of the giggles. Remembering a time when I asked him to pull my hair or slap my arse. How disgusted he was over it, how he asked if I was okay and if I had been drinking.

"It must have been really good." He chuckles.

"Yeah." I lie still sniggering to myself.

The man was so vanilla, I wondered if he ever heard about rough sex or even a little role play. If I said 50 shades of Grey he'd ask for a paint swatch and if I said a playroom? He'd expect a games console.

It's not that I didn't love Jack, I did. But I just wished he was more equipped in bringing excitement. I want him to knock me off my feet, shove me into the bedroom, tease me until I couldn't take no more and then savage me like a starved animal.

I got planned love making.

He even suggested a roster once, I almost punched him in the throat.

I love the intimacy, the levels of connecting with a soul, or at least I did until it got so clinical and routine. But then he had always been a quick finisher. At times I was grateful, it meant I could go back to my book..

Like I said. Routine.

Then Jack's last goodnight? Was rolling onto his side, facing away from me.