Page 93 of Unleashed

Chapter 13

Simone

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GRIPPING ONTO THE EDGE of the brown-marbled granite sink, I bite my lip while squeezing my eyes and legs shut. But my attempt to will away the looming orgasm is absolute agony.

I take a deep breath, hoping to curb it, but with my eyes closed, I can only relive Greg shoving his dick into me, getting himself off, and hosing my body. When he was inside me, I was on the verge of coming every five seconds. No joke. I tried slowing him down, not dirty talking to him, and not encouraging my orgasm. I suppose I have no problem coming, but suppressing them with him is necessary for my well-being.

The only thing that kept me from coming was thinking of that goddamn motherfucker Finn Wilder arguing with me like it’s his side hustle. I guess it’s better than focusing on the biggest asshole of all: my father. Sick and twisted right there, thinking of my big brother while my ex-husband’s thick cock pounded into my eager pussy.

I swallow, still tasting Greg in my mouth, and I savor him as my clit throbs more. Straightening, I open my eyes and see a woman I don’t recognize in the mirror. Sections of my hair have fallen out of the bobby pins, makeup smears my face, and my tits hang out.

Remembering how Greg ate his own cum off me, I gasp and watch in the mirror as my hand falls between my legs. When I bury my fingers between my lips below, they slide around my wet arousal. I throw my head back but stifle a moan.

I push my index and middle fingers deeper and fuck myself. First, slow, but then as the tingles spread through my clit, I quicken my thrusts. I walk backward a few steps to the shower wall. From here, I see my fingers in the mirror. With my other hand, I use my index and middle fingers to pull my lips apart. I delve my fingers into the dusky pink entrance.

I pant, but my eyes fill with stinging tears as I move my fingers up to my starving clit. I watch my reflection flicking her fingers over the nub right below her spread fingers. I mouth, “Oh, God, Greg. I want to come with you,” as hot tears roll down my cheeks, streaking my makeup more. I move my other hand to resume fucking my cunt, using both hands to get myself off. I plead for a release, but now, it’s so hard to find when, only minutes ago, I prevented it.

Orgasming with Greg is not an option. With him, my orgasms morphed into something so deep and personal. They used to be rare for me and only with two other guys, once with each. The rest were from Greg or on my own. I can’t come with him or kiss him on the lips now because since he’s been with another woman, it’d be like me stamping him as mine again. I can’t trick myself into believing he is.

My hands ache, my pussy burns, and my tears fall faster, dragging me into oblivion. I drop to my knees on the yellow shag rug in front of the sink. My hands stop my face from smacking the tile. Not that it matters.

I cry into the rug without making a sound, which I’ve done with Greg beside me, oblivious. I can’t survive this week. I knew Greg would return, but not until I was gone. A clean break. But no, I’m dying a slow and torturous death, and he’s wielding the knife. Still, with a clean break, I would’ve suffered like hell. Just not in front of him every day.

As if laughing at me, my clit still thumps with unleashed need, but my heart isn’t into it. I tuck my face into the rug and take more deep breaths. The bedroom is silent, but it’s not like Greg has much to do there. He’ll most likely wonder what the hell I’m doing in here.

Wiping my face, I glare at the white tile squares as I push myself off the floor. I must stay strong so my father doesn’t see any other reason to doubt me. I remove the dress from my arms and shove it to the floor. I get rid of all the pins from my hair and watch it sweep the tops of my shoulders. I then drag my fingers through my hair to get them all.

After removing my false lashes, I use the toilet, noticing traces of dried, flaky cum on my chest. When I start the shower, I glance at the door to my room, longing for Greg’s arms. At the thought of him, my nipples harden, never tiring of his mouth.

I sigh and check the water before getting under the hot spray. I scrub my body with shea butter body wash and wash my hair with jasmine-scented shampoo. When I finish my shower routine, I realize Greg is waiting to use the bathroom and still needs to shower. The bathroom has been my sanctuary. I’d sleep here if I could.

Sleep. Holy shit. I have to sleep with Greg. Next to him. Like a couple. No, no, no. I can’t. I could start out there and wait until my dad falls asleep before sneaking downstairs to the couch.

When I finally exit the bathroom, I see the pink lamp on and Greg lying on the bed, facing the wall. His steady breathing is the only sound. He’s still wearing his dress shirt and now his underwear, which is a damn shame.

No, it isn’t, twat.

I roll my eyes and check my phone, with only a message from Sharla about my dress fitting. Yes, bitch. I didn’t forget. I’m happy for her. Really. Honestly.

Fuck, I haven’t had enough to drink tonight.

Going to bed, I debate on how to handle this situation. Picking the only way that makes sense, I jump onto the bed and bounce up and down beside him. Greg awakens and rolls over to scowl at me. “What the hell, Garrison?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” I snort, and he frowns to hide his amusement.

He sighs as he sits up, checking his watch. I notice he’s wearing Eden’s black bracelet with it. “I thought you died in the shitter. I had to piss downstairs, looking like Tom Cruise in Risky Business.”

“I’m done now. You need a shower, Rod. Pronto. I don’t want your tart—girlfriend—stinking up my bed. Her stench is all over you.”

Greg shakes his head at me with an incredulous laugh. “The only scent on me is you.” He looks up at me with a cocked eyebrow, but his eyes widen, and his lips part. Staring, his smile fades as if in a daze, and he mutters, “You’re all over me.”

Growing self-conscious, I sift my hand through my damp hair. “What’s your problem now?”

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