Resentment

Ch. 3

September 4th
Hyped Strip Club
New York New York
Beyoncé's POV

Its killing me to be this close to her again. Seeing her made my stomach drop into my ass and that stupid lump form in my throat.

I don't know where to begin with what I'm feeling right now.

I'm hurt more than anything.

I'm angry that she thinks she can control me.

I'm angry she said she still loves me because that made my hate for her somehow fucking evaporate.

I'm angry because I'm still horribly in love with her.

I'm sad. So fucking sad.

I'm happy to be this close to her again. To feel her, smell her, hear her.

And worst of all, I'm turned on from the god damn manhandling and possessiveness.

"You wanna say dat again?" The tone in her voice and the look in her eyes made my heart pound.

"Fuck. You."

"I know it's been a few years, so lemme refresh yuh memory. You say dat tuh me, you're gonna get what you asked fah." That fire in her eyes told me she meant that threat.

I look up at her hand still holding my wrists together above my head, and I feel butterflies swarm my stomach when I see the tattoos on our right wrists. She looked up too, and I saw a small smile in my peripheral.

"So, you wanna say dat again or do you wanna rethink yuh sentence?"

"I'm not scared of your little threats, Rihanna." The sexy smirk that always made my panties soaked appeared on her lips.

"So go a'ead an say it again." She shrugged her shoulders slightly as we kept eye contact.

"Fuck yo-" I was cut off by her lips crashing into mine. I didn't mean to, but I whimpered the second I felt them against my own.

For two years I'd dreamt of these lips. I've craved her kisses, hell, I went through withdrawals without them. I knew she was no good for me, that this was no good for me, but my emotions got the best of me in this moment.

Not one logical thought races through my mind as her lips move against mine. I wasn't thinking about how I shouldn't be doing this or thinking about the pain I went through because of her. All I was thinking about was this kiss... her... us, and how something so wrong felt so fucking right.

She finally let go of my wrists and brought her hands down to the back of my thighs. I'm lifted off my feet as her lips continue devouring my own. I wrap my legs securely around her waist and my arms around her neck. There's no space in between us, and I fucking love it.

A low, throaty moan leaves my throat when she presses herself into me, making her hard bulge press against my core. God only knows how wet I am, and it's literally only from a kiss. Thats just how we were together. One single kiss could bring me to my knees.

She pulls away from the kiss with my bottom lip in between her teeth, making it fling back when she's far enough away. Her eyes connect with mine, silently demanding I keep eye contact with her.

One of her hands leaves the back of my thigh and travels to the front of my body. My nails dig into her shoulder when I feel her moving my bottoms to the side. I want to look down so bad, but I know better than to break eye contact.

I watch her take her bottom lip in between her teeth and hear a groan slip out when her fingers connect with my slippery lips.

"Shit, G." She mumbles as she plays in my wetness. I gasp when her fingers graze my clit and try to not moan from the sensation. "You've always 'ad da wettest and prettiest pussy." Two of her fingers push inside of me, and I moan deeply while throwing my head back. I can't keep my eyes on her anymore. If I keep looking at her, imma end up cumming just from her stare.