Page 149 of Mine to Ruin

My vision blurs with the power of my release crashing in on me. With every thrust and every pained sound of pleasure our mouths let out, I fall down the abyss.

“Let’s test how many times this pussy can come on my cock.”

My throat dries with my cries and moans playing on repeat. The bed squelches with his thrusts and my hand shoots to grip the headboard. I come again, feeling degraded, reduced to just another hole to fuck. I am still trying to seek his eyes, to catch his eyes empty of love for me.

Again and again, I come until I’m spent, done, sore. He pulls out and I wince. My body trembles. My brain floats in so many endorphins it released with my orgasms; I can’t think straight anymore. My skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, and even his breath turns ragged. He rolls me on my back, straddles my face and grips my mouth.

Why don’t I mind how he treats my body, but hate that he won't look at me. What is wrong with me?

“Open. I’ll come down your throat.”

I try to connect with him, to assure myself it’s still us, that it means something, but he hasn’t looked at me once. I give up, why do I need to look in his eyes when his body tells me I’m just a body to fuck.

I take him in my mouth. His hands wrap around a lock of my hair, and his eyes burn with his pleasure as he fucks my mouth. His fingers caress my cheek, and his glassy eyes find mine. His gentle yet desolate look confuses me. The corner of his mouth tips up as if accepting something I am not privy of.

“You are never sexier than with my cock in your mouth,” he says a moment before he comes. “Swallow like my good angel.”

He lowers his head, and kisses me until I am breathless.

My name on his lips is a curse. His on mine is a goodbye.

The moment it ends, we collapse on the mattress, and I am numb.

“You wanted to know how I fuck other women, now you know,” he says, making sure I don’t interpret this moment as weakness.

“I only wanted your love…”

“Stop lying!” he screams and yanks at his hair. He scoots himself away and rocks himself.

I can’t be weakened by his dejected posture, so I turn around, chilled to my bones. I drag the duvet over my shivering body.

“I loved you so damn much. I don’t think I will ever heal from this,” I whisper.

He tilts my head back to him, those eyes swimming in agony, a few tears roll down his face. He wipes them away. “Did you love me when you accepted to marry me to keep your family safe? Instead of coming to me? Did you love me when you slept with my brother…”

“You married me anyway, right?”

He searches my eyes for something, his body strained. “You made me want to change, be a good man for you… to be worthy of you. What we just did should have never happened…” He stumbles out of the bed, wipes at the corners of his eyes, and crashes on his knees in the bathroom. The sounds of him throwing up haunt me.

I pull my knees to my chest. Physically and mentally exhausted, I fall asleep. In my dreams, he is there, his forehead resting on mine.

“I love you, angel.” It ends with an echo of his now distant voice, “You ruined me, too.”

The next morning, I tiptoe down the stairs, carrying a small bag. Kian lies on the couch, fully clothed, one leg on the floor, an empty bottle scattered on the floor, deep lines creasing his forehead. I drag my feet, and pull the door open, and don’t look back, not even once.

I leave the old me dead in a cold bed waiting for his warmth to bring me back to life, while the new me emerges from the ashes of a naïve and stupid woman. I fulfilled the part of the deal; I married him, and my family is fine.

Now I simply have to survive.

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